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diff --git a/1696-h/1696-h.htm b/1696-h/1696-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90782fe --- /dev/null +++ b/1696-h/1696-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6544 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Club of Queer Trades, by G. K. Chesterton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Club of Queer Trades, by G. K. Chesterton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Club of Queer Trades + +Author: G. K. Chesterton + +Release Date: November 17, 2008 [EBook #1696] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLUB OF QUEER TRADES *** + + + + +Produced by Anonomous Project Gutenberg Volunteers, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE CLUB OF QUEER TRADES + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by G. K. Chesterton + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter 1. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Tremendous Adventures of Major Brown + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter 2. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Painful Fall of a Great Reputation + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter 3. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Awful Reason of the Vicar's Visit + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter 4. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Singular Speculation of the House-Agent + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter 5. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Noticeable Conduct of Professor Chadd + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter 6. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Eccentric Seclusion of the Old Lady + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + Chapter 1. The Tremendous Adventures of Major Brown + </h2> + <p> + Rabelais, or his wild illustrator Gustave Dore, must have had something to + do with the designing of the things called flats in England and America. + There is something entirely Gargantuan in the idea of economising space by + piling houses on top of each other, front doors and all. And in the chaos + and complexity of those perpendicular streets anything may dwell or + happen, and it is in one of them, I believe, that the inquirer may find + the offices of the Club of Queer Trades. It may be thought at the first + glance that the name would attract and startle the passer-by, but nothing + attracts or startles in these dim immense hives. The passer-by is only + looking for his own melancholy destination, the Montenegro Shipping Agency + or the London office of the Rutland Sentinel, and passes through the + twilight passages as one passes through the twilight corridors of a dream. + If the Thugs set up a Strangers' Assassination Company in one of the great + buildings in Norfolk Street, and sent in a mild man in spectacles to + answer inquiries, no inquiries would be made. And the Club of Queer Trades + reigns in a great edifice hidden like a fossil in a mighty cliff of + fossils. + </p> + <p> + The nature of this society, such as we afterwards discovered it to be, is + soon and simply told. It is an eccentric and Bohemian Club, of which the + absolute condition of membership lies in this, that the candidate must + have invented the method by which he earns his living. It must be an + entirely new trade. The exact definition of this requirement is given in + the two principal rules. First, it must not be a mere application or + variation of an existing trade. Thus, for instance, the Club would not + admit an insurance agent simply because instead of insuring men's + furniture against being burnt in a fire, he insured, let us say, their + trousers against being torn by a mad dog. The principle (as Sir Bradcock + Burnaby-Bradcock, in the extraordinarily eloquent and soaring speech to + the club on the occasion of the question being raised in the Stormby Smith + affair, said wittily and keenly) is the same. Secondly, the trade must be + a genuine commercial source of income, the support of its inventor. Thus + the Club would not receive a man simply because he chose to pass his days + collecting broken sardine tins, unless he could drive a roaring trade in + them. Professor Chick made that quite clear. And when one remembers what + Professor Chick's own new trade was, one doesn't know whether to laugh or + cry. + </p> + <p> + The discovery of this strange society was a curiously refreshing thing; to + realize that there were ten new trades in the world was like looking at + the first ship or the first plough. It made a man feel what he should + feel, that he was still in the childhood of the world. That I should have + come at last upon so singular a body was, I may say without vanity, not + altogether singular, for I have a mania for belonging to as many societies + as possible: I may be said to collect clubs, and I have accumulated a vast + and fantastic variety of specimens ever since, in my audacious youth, I + collected the Athenaeum. At some future day, perhaps, I may tell tales of + some of the other bodies to which I have belonged. I will recount the + doings of the Dead Man's Shoes Society (that superficially immoral, but + darkly justifiable communion); I will explain the curious origin of the + Cat and Christian, the name of which has been so shamefully + misinterpreted; and the world shall know at last why the Institute of + Typewriters coalesced with the Red Tulip League. Of the Ten Teacups, of + course I dare not say a word. The first of my revelations, at any rate, + shall be concerned with the Club of Queer Trades, which, as I have said, + was one of this class, one which I was almost bound to come across sooner + or later, because of my singular hobby. The wild youth of the metropolis + call me facetiously 'The King of Clubs'. They also call me 'The Cherub', + in allusion to the roseate and youthful appearance I have presented in my + declining years. I only hope the spirits in the better world have as good + dinners as I have. But the finding of the Club of Queer Trades has one + very curious thing about it. The most curious thing about it is that it + was not discovered by me; it was discovered by my friend Basil Grant, a + star-gazer, a mystic, and a man who scarcely stirred out of his attic. + </p> + <p> + Very few people knew anything of Basil; not because he was in the least + unsociable, for if a man out of the street had walked into his rooms he + would have kept him talking till morning. Few people knew him, because, + like all poets, he could do without them; he welcomed a human face as he + might welcome a sudden blend of colour in a sunset; but he no more felt + the need of going out to parties than he felt the need of altering the + sunset clouds. He lived in a queer and comfortable garret in the roofs of + Lambeth. He was surrounded by a chaos of things that were in odd contrast + to the slums around him; old fantastic books, swords, armour—the + whole dust-hole of romanticism. But his face, amid all these quixotic + relics, appeared curiously keen and modern—a powerful, legal face. + And no one but I knew who he was. + </p> + <p> + Long ago as it is, everyone remembers the terrible and grotesque scene + that occurred in———, when one of the most acute and forcible of the + English judges suddenly went mad on the bench. I had my own view of that + occurrence; but about the facts themselves there is no question at all. + For some months, indeed for some years, people had detected something + curious in the judge's conduct. He seemed to have lost interest in the + law, in which he had been beyond expression brilliant and terrible as a + K.C., and to be occupied in giving personal and moral advice to the people + concerned. He talked more like a priest or a doctor, and a very outspoken + one at that. The first thrill was probably given when he said to a man who + had attempted a crime of passion: “I sentence you to three years + imprisonment, under the firm, and solemn, and God-given conviction, that + what you require is three months at the seaside.” He accused criminals + from the bench, not so much of their obvious legal crimes, but of things + that had never been heard of in a court of justice, monstrous egoism, lack + of humour, and morbidity deliberately encouraged. Things came to a head in + that celebrated diamond case in which the Prime Minister himself, that + brilliant patrician, had to come forward, gracefully and reluctantly, to + give evidence against his valet. After the detailed life of the household + had been thoroughly exhibited, the judge requested the Premier again to + step forward, which he did with quiet dignity. The judge then said, in a + sudden, grating voice: “Get a new soul. That thing's not fit for a dog. + Get a new soul.” All this, of course, in the eyes of the sagacious, was + premonitory of that melancholy and farcical day when his wits actually + deserted him in open court. It was a libel case between two very eminent + and powerful financiers, against both of whom charges of considerable + defalcation were brought. The case was long and complex; the advocates + were long and eloquent; but at last, after weeks of work and rhetoric, the + time came for the great judge to give a summing-up; and one of his + celebrated masterpieces of lucidity and pulverizing logic was eagerly + looked for. He had spoken very little during the prolonged affair, and he + looked sad and lowering at the end of it. He was silent for a few moments, + and then burst into a stentorian song. His remarks (as reported) were as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “O Rowty-owty tiddly-owty Tiddly-owty tiddly-owty Highty-ighty + tiddly-ighty Tiddly-ighty ow.” + </p> + <p> + He then retired from public life and took the garret in Lambeth. + </p> + <p> + I was sitting there one evening, about six o'clock, over a glass of that + gorgeous Burgundy which he kept behind a pile of black-letter folios; he + was striding about the room, fingering, after a habit of his, one of the + great swords in his collection; the red glare of the strong fire struck + his square features and his fierce grey hair; his blue eyes were even + unusually full of dreams, and he had opened his mouth to speak dreamily, + when the door was flung open, and a pale, fiery man, with red hair and a + huge furred overcoat, swung himself panting into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry to bother you, Basil,” he gasped. “I took a liberty—made an + appointment here with a man—a client—in five minutes—I + beg your pardon, sir,” and he gave me a bow of apology. + </p> + <p> + Basil smiled at me. “You didn't know,” he said, “that I had a practical + brother. This is Rupert Grant, Esquire, who can and does all there is to + be done. Just as I was a failure at one thing, he is a success at + everything. I remember him as a journalist, a house-agent, a naturalist, + an inventor, a publisher, a schoolmaster, a—what are you now, + Rupert?” + </p> + <p> + “I am and have been for some time,” said Rupert, with some dignity, “a + private detective, and there's my client.” + </p> + <p> + A loud rap at the door had cut him short, and, on permission being given, + the door was thrown sharply open and a stout, dapper man walked swiftly + into the room, set his silk hat with a clap on the table, and said, “Good + evening, gentlemen,” with a stress on the last syllable that somehow + marked him out as a martinet, military, literary and social. He had a + large head streaked with black and grey, and an abrupt black moustache, + which gave him a look of fierceness which was contradicted by his sad + sea-blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + Basil immediately said to me, “Let us come into the next room, Gully,” and + was moving towards the door, but the stranger said: + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. Friends remain. Assistance possibly.” + </p> + <p> + The moment I heard him speak I remembered who he was, a certain Major + Brown I had met years before in Basil's society. I had forgotten + altogether the black dandified figure and the large solemn head, but I + remembered the peculiar speech, which consisted of only saying about a + quarter of each sentence, and that sharply, like the crack of a gun. I do + not know, it may have come from giving orders to troops. + </p> + <p> + Major Brown was a V.C., and an able and distinguished soldier, but he was + anything but a warlike person. Like many among the iron men who recovered + British India, he was a man with the natural beliefs and tastes of an old + maid. In his dress he was dapper and yet demure; in his habits he was + precise to the point of the exact adjustment of a tea-cup. One enthusiasm + he had, which was of the nature of a religion—the cultivation of + pansies. And when he talked about his collection, his blue eyes glittered + like a child's at a new toy, the eyes that had remained untroubled when + the troops were roaring victory round Roberts at Candahar. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Major,” said Rupert Grant, with a lordly heartiness, flinging + himself into a chair, “what is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yellow pansies. Coal-cellar. P. G. Northover,” said the Major, with + righteous indignation. + </p> + <p> + We glanced at each other with inquisitiveness. Basil, who had his eyes + shut in his abstracted way, said simply: + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “Fact is. Street, you know, man, pansies. On wall. Death to me. Something. + Preposterous.” + </p> + <p> + We shook our heads gently. Bit by bit, and mainly by the seemingly sleepy + assistance of Basil Grant, we pieced together the Major's fragmentary, but + excited narration. It would be infamous to submit the reader to what we + endured; therefore I will tell the story of Major Brown in my own words. + But the reader must imagine the scene. The eyes of Basil closed as in a + trance, after his habit, and the eyes of Rupert and myself getting rounder + and rounder as we listened to one of the most astounding stories in the + world, from the lips of the little man in black, sitting bolt upright in + his chair and talking like a telegram. + </p> + <p> + Major Brown was, I have said, a successful soldier, but by no means an + enthusiastic one. So far from regretting his retirement on half-pay, it + was with delight that he took a small neat villa, very like a doll's + house, and devoted the rest of his life to pansies and weak tea. The + thought that battles were over when he had once hung up his sword in the + little front hall (along with two patent stew-pots and a bad + water-colour), and betaken himself instead to wielding the rake in his + little sunlit garden, was to him like having come into a harbour in + heaven. He was Dutch-like and precise in his taste in gardening, and had, + perhaps, some tendency to drill his flowers like soldiers. He was one of + those men who are capable of putting four umbrellas in the stand rather + than three, so that two may lean one way and two another; he saw life like + a pattern in a freehand drawing-book. And assuredly he would not have + believed, or even understood, any one who had told him that within a few + yards of his brick paradise he was destined to be caught in a whirlpool of + incredible adventure, such as he had never seen or dreamed of in the + horrible jungle, or the heat of battle. + </p> + <p> + One certain bright and windy afternoon, the Major, attired in his usual + faultless manner, had set out for his usual constitutional. In crossing + from one great residential thoroughfare to another, he happened to pass + along one of those aimless-looking lanes which lie along the back-garden + walls of a row of mansions, and which in their empty and discoloured + appearance give one an odd sensation as of being behind the scenes of a + theatre. But mean and sulky as the scene might be in the eyes of most of + us, it was not altogether so in the Major's, for along the coarse gravel + footway was coming a thing which was to him what the passing of a + religious procession is to a devout person. A large, heavy man, with + fish-blue eyes and a ring of irradiating red beard, was pushing before him + a barrow, which was ablaze with incomparable flowers. There were splendid + specimens of almost every order, but the Major's own favourite pansies + predominated. The Major stopped and fell into conversation, and then into + bargaining. He treated the man after the manner of collectors and other + mad men, that is to say, he carefully and with a sort of anguish selected + the best roots from the less excellent, praised some, disparaged others, + made a subtle scale ranging from a thrilling worth and rarity to a + degraded insignificance, and then bought them all. The man was just + pushing off his barrow when he stopped and came close to the Major. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what, sir,” he said. “If you're interested in them things, + you just get on to that wall.” + </p> + <p> + “On the wall!” cried the scandalised Major, whose conventional soul + quailed within him at the thought of such fantastic trespass. + </p> + <p> + “Finest show of yellow pansies in England in that there garden, sir,” + hissed the tempter. “I'll help you up, sir.” + </p> + <p> + How it happened no one will ever know but that positive enthusiasm of the + Major's life triumphed over all its negative traditions, and with an easy + leap and swing that showed that he was in no need of physical assistance, + he stood on the wall at the end of the strange garden. The second after, + the flapping of the frock-coat at his knees made him feel inexpressibly a + fool. But the next instant all such trifling sentiments were swallowed up + by the most appalling shock of surprise the old soldier had ever felt in + all his bold and wandering existence. His eyes fell upon the garden, and + there across a large bed in the centre of the lawn was a vast pattern of + pansies; they were splendid flowers, but for once it was not their + horticultural aspects that Major Brown beheld, for the pansies were + arranged in gigantic capital letters so as to form the sentence: + </p> + <p> + DEATH TO MAJOR BROWN + </p> + <p> + A kindly looking old man, with white whiskers, was watering them. Brown + looked sharply back at the road behind him; the man with the barrow had + suddenly vanished. Then he looked again at the lawn with its incredible + inscription. Another man might have thought he had gone mad, but Brown did + not. When romantic ladies gushed over his V.C. and his military exploits, + he sometimes felt himself to be a painfully prosaic person, but by the + same token he knew he was incurably sane. Another man, again, might have + thought himself a victim of a passing practical joke, but Brown could not + easily believe this. He knew from his own quaint learning that the garden + arrangement was an elaborate and expensive one; he thought it + extravagantly improbable that any one would pour out money like water for + a joke against him. Having no explanation whatever to offer, he admitted + the fact to himself, like a clear-headed man, and waited as he would have + done in the presence of a man with six legs. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the stout old man with white whiskers looked up, and the + watering can fell from his hand, shooting a swirl of water down the gravel + path. + </p> + <p> + “Who on earth are you?” he gasped, trembling violently. + </p> + <p> + “I am Major Brown,” said that individual, who was always cool in the hour + of action. + </p> + <p> + The old man gaped helplessly like some monstrous fish. At last he + stammered wildly, “Come down—come down here!” + </p> + <p> + “At your service,” said the Major, and alighted at a bound on the grass + beside him, without disarranging his silk hat. + </p> + <p> + The old man turned his broad back and set off at a sort of waddling run + towards the house, followed with swift steps by the Major. His guide led + him through the back passages of a gloomy, but gorgeously appointed house, + until they reached the door of the front room. Then the old man turned + with a face of apoplectic terror dimly showing in the twilight. + </p> + <p> + “For heaven's sake,” he said, “don't mention jackals.” + </p> + <p> + Then he threw open the door, releasing a burst of red lamplight, and ran + downstairs with a clatter. + </p> + <p> + The Major stepped into a rich, glowing room, full of red copper, and + peacock and purple hangings, hat in hand. He had the finest manners in the + world, and, though mystified, was not in the least embarrassed to see that + the only occupant was a lady, sitting by the window, looking out. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said, bowing simply, “I am Major Brown.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” said the lady; but she did not turn her head. + </p> + <p> + She was a graceful, green-clad figure, with fiery red hair and a flavour + of Bedford Park. “You have come, I suppose,” she said mournfully, “to tax + me about the hateful title-deeds.” + </p> + <p> + “I have come, madam,” he said, “to know what is the matter. To know why my + name is written across your garden. Not amicably either.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke grimly, for the thing had hit him. It is impossible to describe + the effect produced on the mind by that quiet and sunny garden scene, the + frame for a stunning and brutal personality. The evening air was still, + and the grass was golden in the place where the little flowers he studied + cried to heaven for his blood. + </p> + <p> + “You know I must not turn round,” said the lady; “every afternoon till the + stroke of six I must keep my face turned to the street.” + </p> + <p> + Some queer and unusual inspiration made the prosaic soldier resolute to + accept these outrageous riddles without surprise. + </p> + <p> + “It is almost six,” he said; and even as he spoke the barbaric copper + clock upon the wall clanged the first stroke of the hour. At the sixth the + lady sprang up and turned on the Major one of the queerest and yet most + attractive faces he had ever seen in his life; open, and yet tantalising, + the face of an elf. + </p> + <p> + “That makes the third year I have waited,” she cried. “This is an + anniversary. The waiting almost makes one wish the frightful thing would + happen once and for all.” + </p> + <p> + And even as she spoke, a sudden rending cry broke the stillness. From low + down on the pavement of the dim street (it was already twilight) a voice + cried out with a raucous and merciless distinctness: + </p> + <p> + “Major Brown, Major Brown, where does the jackal dwell?” + </p> + <p> + Brown was decisive and silent in action. He strode to the front door and + looked out. There was no sign of life in the blue gloaming of the street, + where one or two lamps were beginning to light their lemon sparks. On + returning, he found the lady in green trembling. + </p> + <p> + “It is the end,” she cried, with shaking lips; “it may be death for both + of us. Whenever—” + </p> + <p> + But even as she spoke her speech was cloven by another hoarse proclamation + from the dark street, again horribly articulate. + </p> + <p> + “Major Brown, Major Brown, how did the jackal die?” + </p> + <p> + Brown dashed out of the door and down the steps, but again he was + frustrated; there was no figure in sight, and the street was far too long + and empty for the shouter to have run away. Even the rational Major was a + little shaken as he returned in a certain time to the drawing-room. + Scarcely had he done so than the terrific voice came: + </p> + <p> + “Major Brown, Major Brown, where did—” + </p> + <p> + Brown was in the street almost at a bound, and he was in time—in + time to see something which at first glance froze the blood. The cries + appeared to come from a decapitated head resting on the pavement. + </p> + <p> + The next moment the pale Major understood. It was the head of a man thrust + through the coal-hole in the street. The next moment, again, it had + vanished, and Major Brown turned to the lady. “Where's your coal-cellar?” + he said, and stepped out into the passage. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with wild grey eyes. “You will not go down,” she cried, + “alone, into the dark hole, with that beast?” + </p> + <p> + “Is this the way?” replied Brown, and descended the kitchen stairs three + at a time. He flung open the door of a black cavity and stepped in, + feeling in his pocket for matches. As his right hand was thus occupied, a + pair of great slimy hands came out of the darkness, hands clearly + belonging to a man of gigantic stature, and seized him by the back of the + head. They forced him down, down in the suffocating darkness, a brutal + image of destiny. But the Major's head, though upside down, was perfectly + clear and intellectual. He gave quietly under the pressure until he had + slid down almost to his hands and knees. Then finding the knees of the + invisible monster within a foot of him, he simply put out one of his long, + bony, and skilful hands, and gripping the leg by a muscle pulled it off + the ground and laid the huge living man, with a crash, along the floor. He + strove to rise, but Brown was on top like a cat. They rolled over and + over. Big as the man was, he had evidently now no desire but to escape; he + made sprawls hither and thither to get past the Major to the door, but + that tenacious person had him hard by the coat collar and hung with the + other hand to a beam. At length there came a strain in holding back this + human bull, a strain under which Brown expected his hand to rend and part + from the arm. But something else rent and parted; and the dim fat figure + of the giant vanished out of the cellar, leaving the torn coat in the + Major's hand; the only fruit of his adventure and the only clue to the + mystery. For when he went up and out at the front door, the lady, the rich + hangings, and the whole equipment of the house had disappeared. It had + only bare boards and whitewashed walls. + </p> + <p> + “The lady was in the conspiracy, of course,” said Rupert, nodding. Major + Brown turned brick red. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “I think not.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert raised his eyebrows and looked at him for a moment, but said + nothing. When next he spoke he asked: + </p> + <p> + “Was there anything in the pockets of the coat?” + </p> + <p> + “There was sevenpence halfpenny in coppers and a threepenny-bit,” said the + Major carefully; “there was a cigarette-holder, a piece of string, and + this letter,” and he laid it on the table. It ran as follows: + </p> + <p> + Dear Mr Plover, + </p> + <p> + I am annoyed to hear that some delay has occurred in the arrangements re + Major Brown. Please see that he is attacked as per arrangement tomorrow. + The coal-cellar, of course. + </p> + <p> + Yours faithfully, P. G. Northover. + </p> + <p> + Rupert Grant was leaning forward listening with hawk-like eyes. He cut in: + </p> + <p> + “Is it dated from anywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “No—oh, yes!” replied Brown, glancing upon the paper; “14 Tanner's + Court, North—” + </p> + <p> + Rupert sprang up and struck his hands together. + </p> + <p> + “Then why are we hanging here? Let's get along. Basil, lend me your + revolver.” + </p> + <p> + Basil was staring into the embers like a man in a trance; and it was some + time before he answered: + </p> + <p> + “I don't think you'll need it.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” said Rupert, getting into his fur coat. “One never knows. + But going down a dark court to see criminals—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think they are criminals?” asked his brother. + </p> + <p> + Rupert laughed stoutly. “Giving orders to a subordinate to strangle a + harmless stranger in a coal-cellar may strike you as a very blameless + experiment, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think they wanted to strangle the Major?” asked Basil, in the same + distant and monotonous voice. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, you've been asleep. Look at the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “I am looking at the letter,” said the mad judge calmly; though, as a + matter of fact, he was looking at the fire. “I don't think it's the sort + of letter one criminal would write to another.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, you are glorious,” cried Rupert, turning round, with + laughter in his blue bright eyes. “Your methods amaze me. Why, there is + the letter. It is written, and it does give orders for a crime. You might + as well say that the Nelson Column was not at all the sort of thing that + was likely to be set up in Trafalgar Square.” + </p> + <p> + Basil Grant shook all over with a sort of silent laughter, but did not + otherwise move. + </p> + <p> + “That's rather good,” he said; “but, of course, logic like that's not what + is really wanted. It's a question of spiritual atmosphere. It's not a + criminal letter.” + </p> + <p> + “It is. It's a matter of fact,” cried the other in an agony of + reasonableness. + </p> + <p> + “Facts,” murmured Basil, like one mentioning some strange, far-off + animals, “how facts obscure the truth. I may be silly—in fact, I'm + off my head—but I never could believe in that man—what's his + name, in those capital stories?—Sherlock Holmes. Every detail points + to something, certainly; but generally to the wrong thing. Facts point in + all directions, it seems to me, like the thousands of twigs on a tree. + It's only the life of the tree that has unity and goes up—only the + green blood that springs, like a fountain, at the stars.” + </p> + <p> + “But what the deuce else can the letter be but criminal?” + </p> + <p> + “We have eternity to stretch our legs in,” replied the mystic. “It can be + an infinity of things. I haven't seen any of them—I've only seen the + letter. I look at that, and say it's not criminal.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what's the origin of it?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't the vaguest idea.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don't you accept the ordinary explanation?” + </p> + <p> + Basil continued for a little to glare at the coals, and seemed collecting + his thoughts in a humble and even painful way. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you went out into the moonlight. Suppose you passed through + silent, silvery streets and squares until you came into an open and + deserted space, set with a few monuments, and you beheld one dressed as a + ballet girl dancing in the argent glimmer. And suppose you looked, and saw + it was a man disguised. And suppose you looked again, and saw it was Lord + Kitchener. What would you think?” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment, and went on: + </p> + <p> + “You could not adopt the ordinary explanation. The ordinary explanation of + putting on singular clothes is that you look nice in them; you would not + think that Lord Kitchener dressed up like a ballet girl out of ordinary + personal vanity. You would think it much more likely that he inherited a + dancing madness from a great grandmother; or had been hypnotised at a + seance; or threatened by a secret society with death if he refused the + ordeal. With Baden-Powell, say, it might be a bet—but not with + Kitchener. I should know all that, because in my public days I knew him + quite well. So I know that letter quite well, and criminals quite well. + It's not a criminal's letter. It's all atmospheres.” And he closed his + eyes and passed his hand over his forehead. + </p> + <p> + Rupert and the Major were regarding him with a mixture of respect and + pity. The former said, + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm going, anyhow, and shall continue to think—until your + spiritual mystery turns up—that a man who sends a note recommending + a crime, that is, actually a crime that is actually carried out, at least + tentatively, is, in all probability, a little casual in his moral tastes. + Can I have that revolver?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Basil, getting up. “But I am coming with you.” And he + flung an old cape or cloak round him, and took a sword-stick from the + corner. + </p> + <p> + “You!” said Rupert, with some surprise, “you scarcely ever leave your hole + to look at anything on the face of the earth.” + </p> + <p> + Basil fitted on a formidable old white hat. + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely ever,” he said, with an unconscious and colossal arrogance, + “hear of anything on the face of the earth that I do not understand at + once, without going to see it.” + </p> + <p> + And he led the way out into the purple night. + </p> + <p> + We four swung along the flaring Lambeth streets, across Westminster + Bridge, and along the Embankment in the direction of that part of Fleet + Street which contained Tanner's Court. The erect, black figure of Major + Brown, seen from behind, was a quaint contrast to the hound-like stoop and + flapping mantle of young Rupert Grant, who adopted, with childlike + delight, all the dramatic poses of the detective of fiction. The finest + among his many fine qualities was his boyish appetite for the colour and + poetry of London. Basil, who walked behind, with his face turned blindly + to the stars, had the look of a somnambulist. + </p> + <p> + Rupert paused at the corner of Tanner's Court, with a quiver of delight at + danger, and gripped Basil's revolver in his great-coat pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we go in now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not get police?” asked Major Brown, glancing sharply up and down the + street. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure,” answered Rupert, knitting his brows. “Of course, it's + quite clear, the thing's all crooked. But there are three of us, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't get the police,” said Basil in a queer voice. Rupert glanced + at him and stared hard. + </p> + <p> + “Basil,” he cried, “you're trembling. What's the matter—are you + afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “Cold, perhaps,” said the Major, eyeing him. There was no doubt that he + was shaking. + </p> + <p> + At last, after a few moments' scrutiny, Rupert broke into a curse. + </p> + <p> + “You're laughing,” he cried. “I know that confounded, silent, shaky laugh + of yours. What the deuce is the amusement, Basil? Here we are, all three + of us, within a yard of a den of ruffians—” + </p> + <p> + “But I shouldn't call the police,” said Basil. “We four heroes are quite + equal to a host,” and he continued to quake with his mysterious mirth. + </p> + <p> + Rupert turned with impatience and strode swiftly down the court, the rest + of us following. When he reached the door of No. 14 he turned abruptly, + the revolver glittering in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Stand close,” he said in the voice of a commander. “The scoundrel may be + attempting an escape at this moment. We must fling open the door and rush + in.” + </p> + <p> + The four of us cowered instantly under the archway, rigid, except for the + old judge and his convulsion of merriment. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” hissed Rupert Grant, turning his pale face and burning eyes + suddenly over his shoulder, “when I say 'Four', follow me with a rush. If + I say 'Hold him', pin the fellows down, whoever they are. If I say 'Stop', + stop. I shall say that if there are more than three. If they attack us I + shall empty my revolver on them. Basil, have your sword-stick ready. Now—one, + two, three, four!” + </p> + <p> + With the sound of the word the door burst open, and we fell into the room + like an invasion, only to stop dead. + </p> + <p> + The room, which was an ordinary and neatly appointed office, appeared, at + the first glance, to be empty. But on a second and more careful glance, we + saw seated behind a very large desk with pigeonholes and drawers of + bewildering multiplicity, a small man with a black waxed moustache, and + the air of a very average clerk, writing hard. He looked up as we came to + a standstill. + </p> + <p> + “Did you knock?” he asked pleasantly. “I am sorry if I did not hear. What + can I do for you?” + </p> + <p> + There was a doubtful pause, and then, by general consent, the Major + himself, the victim of the outrage, stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + The letter was in his hand, and he looked unusually grim. + </p> + <p> + “Is your name P. G. Northover?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “That is my name,” replied the other, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Major Brown, with an increase in the dark glow of his + face, “that this letter was written by you.” And with a loud clap he + struck open the letter on the desk with his clenched fist. The man called + Northover looked at it with unaffected interest and merely nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said the Major, breathing hard, “what about that?” + </p> + <p> + “What about it, precisely,” said the man with the moustache. + </p> + <p> + “I am Major Brown,” said that gentleman sternly. + </p> + <p> + Northover bowed. “Pleased to meet you, sir. What have you to say to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Say!” cried the Major, loosing a sudden tempest; “why, I want this + confounded thing settled. I want—” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” said Northover, jumping up with a slight elevation of + the eyebrows. “Will you take a chair for a moment.” And he pressed an + electric bell just above him, which thrilled and tinkled in a room beyond. + The Major put his hand on the back of the chair offered him, but stood + chafing and beating the floor with his polished boot. + </p> + <p> + The next moment an inner glass door was opened, and a fair, weedy, young + man, in a frock-coat, entered from within. + </p> + <p> + “Mr Hopson,” said Northover, “this is Major Brown. Will you please finish + that thing for him I gave you this morning and bring it in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Mr Hopson, and vanished like lightning. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse me, gentlemen,” said the egregious Northover, with his + radiant smile, “if I continue to work until Mr Hopson is ready. I have + some books that must be cleared up before I get away on my holiday + tomorrow. And we all like a whiff of the country, don't we? Ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + The criminal took up his pen with a childlike laugh, and a silence ensued; + a placid and busy silence on the part of Mr P. G. Northover; a raging + silence on the part of everybody else. + </p> + <p> + At length the scratching of Northover's pen in the stillness was mingled + with a knock at the door, almost simultaneous with the turning of the + handle, and Mr Hopson came in again with the same silent rapidity, placed + a paper before his principal, and disappeared again. + </p> + <p> + The man at the desk pulled and twisted his spiky moustache for a few + moments as he ran his eye up and down the paper presented to him. He took + up his pen, with a slight, instantaneous frown, and altered something, + muttering—“Careless.” Then he read it again with the same + impenetrable reflectiveness, and finally handed it to the frantic Brown, + whose hand was beating the devil's tattoo on the back of the chair. + </p> + <p> + “I think you will find that all right, Major,” he said briefly. + </p> + <p> + The Major looked at it; whether he found it all right or not will appear + later, but he found it like this: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Major Brown to P. G. Northover. £ s. d. + January 1, to account rendered 5 6 0 + May 9, to potting and embedding of 200 pansies 2 0 0 + To cost of trolley with flowers 0 15 0 + To hiring of man with trolley 0 5 0 + To hire of house and garden for one day 1 0 0 + To furnishing of room in peacock curtains, copper ornaments, etc. 3 0 0 + To salary of Miss Jameson 1 0 0 + To salary of Mr Plover 1 0 0 + ————— + Total £14 6 0 + A Remittance will oblige. +</pre> + <p> + “What,” said Brown, after a dead pause, and with eyes that seemed slowly + rising out of his head, “What in heaven's name is this?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” repeated Northover, cocking his eyebrow with amusement. + “It's your account, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “My account!” The Major's ideas appeared to be in a vague stampede. “My + account! And what have I got to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Northover, laughing outright, “naturally I prefer you to pay + it.” + </p> + <p> + The Major's hand was still resting on the back of the chair as the words + came. He scarcely stirred otherwise, but he lifted the chair bodily into + the air with one hand and hurled it at Northover's head. + </p> + <p> + The legs crashed against the desk, so that Northover only got a blow on + the elbow as he sprang up with clenched fists, only to be seized by the + united rush of the rest of us. The chair had fallen clattering on the + empty floor. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go, you scamps,” he shouted. “Let me—” + </p> + <p> + “Stand still,” cried Rupert authoritatively. “Major Brown's action is + excusable. The abominable crime you have attempted—” + </p> + <p> + “A customer has a perfect right,” said Northover hotly, “to question an + alleged overcharge, but, confound it all, not to throw furniture.” + </p> + <p> + “What, in God's name, do you mean by your customers and overcharges?” + shrieked Major Brown, whose keen feminine nature, steady in pain or + danger, became almost hysterical in the presence of a long and + exasperating mystery. “Who are you? I've never seen you or your insolent + tomfool bills. I know one of your cursed brutes tried to choke me—” + </p> + <p> + “Mad,” said Northover, gazing blankly round; “all of them mad. I didn't + know they travelled in quartettes.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough of this prevarication,” said Rupert; “your crimes are discovered. + A policeman is stationed at the corner of the court. Though only a private + detective myself, I will take the responsibility of telling you that + anything you say—” + </p> + <p> + “Mad,” repeated Northover, with a weary air. + </p> + <p> + And at this moment, for the first time, there struck in among them the + strange, sleepy voice of Basil Grant. + </p> + <p> + “Major Brown,” he said, “may I ask you a question?” + </p> + <p> + The Major turned his head with an increased bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “You?” he cried; “certainly, Mr Grant.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me,” said the mystic, with sunken head and lowering brow, as + he traced a pattern in the dust with his sword-stick, “can you tell me + what was the name of the man who lived in your house before you?” + </p> + <p> + The unhappy Major was only faintly more disturbed by this last and futile + irrelevancy, and he answered vaguely: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think so; a man named Gurney something—a name with a hyphen—Gurney-Brown; + that was it.” + </p> + <p> + “And when did the house change hands?” said Basil, looking up sharply. His + strange eyes were burning brilliantly. + </p> + <p> + “I came in last month,” said the Major. + </p> + <p> + And at the mere word the criminal Northover suddenly fell into his great + office chair and shouted with a volleying laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it's too perfect—it's too exquisite,” he gasped, beating the + arms with his fists. He was laughing deafeningly; Basil Grant was laughing + voicelessly; and the rest of us only felt that our heads were like + weathercocks in a whirlwind. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it, Basil,” said Rupert, stamping. “If you don't want me to go + mad and blow your metaphysical brains out, tell me what all this means.” + </p> + <p> + Northover rose. + </p> + <p> + “Permit me, sir, to explain,” he said. “And, first of all, permit me to + apologize to you, Major Brown, for a most abominable and unpardonable + blunder, which has caused you menace and inconvenience, in which, if you + will allow me to say so, you have behaved with astonishing courage and + dignity. Of course you need not trouble about the bill. We will stand the + loss.” And, tearing the paper across, he flung the halves into the + waste-paper basket and bowed. + </p> + <p> + Poor Brown's face was still a picture of distraction. “But I don't even + begin to understand,” he cried. “What bill? what blunder? what loss?” + </p> + <p> + Mr P. G. Northover advanced in the centre of the room, thoughtfully, and + with a great deal of unconscious dignity. On closer consideration, there + were apparent about him other things beside a screwed moustache, + especially a lean, sallow face, hawk-like, and not without a careworn + intelligence. Then he looked up abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where you are, Major?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “God knows I don't,” said the warrior, with fervour. + </p> + <p> + “You are standing,” replied Northover, “in the office of the Adventure and + Romance Agency, Limited.” + </p> + <p> + “And what's that?” blankly inquired Brown. + </p> + <p> + The man of business leaned over the back of the chair, and fixed his dark + eyes on the other's face. + </p> + <p> + “Major,” said he, “did you ever, as you walked along the empty street upon + some idle afternoon, feel the utter hunger for something to happen—something, + in the splendid words of Walt Whitman: 'Something pernicious and dread; + something far removed from a puny and pious life; something unproved; + something in a trance; something loosed from its anchorage, and driving + free.' Did you ever feel that?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said the Major shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I must explain with more elaboration,” said Mr Northover, with a + sigh. “The Adventure and Romance Agency has been started to meet a great + modern desire. On every side, in conversation and in literature, we hear + of the desire for a larger theatre of events for something to waylay us + and lead us splendidly astray. Now the man who feels this desire for a + varied life pays a yearly or a quarterly sum to the Adventure and Romance + Agency; in return, the Adventure and Romance Agency undertakes to surround + him with startling and weird events. As a man is leaving his front door, + an excited sweep approaches him and assures him of a plot against his + life; he gets into a cab, and is driven to an opium den; he receives a + mysterious telegram or a dramatic visit, and is immediately in a vortex of + incidents. A very picturesque and moving story is first written by one of + the staff of distinguished novelists who are at present hard at work in + the adjoining room. Yours, Major Brown (designed by our Mr Grigsby), I + consider peculiarly forcible and pointed; it is almost a pity you did not + see the end of it. I need scarcely explain further the monstrous mistake. + Your predecessor in your present house, Mr Gurney-Brown, was a subscriber + to our agency, and our foolish clerks, ignoring alike the dignity of the + hyphen and the glory of military rank, positively imagined that Major + Brown and Mr Gurney-Brown were the same person. Thus you were suddenly + hurled into the middle of another man's story.” + </p> + <p> + “How on earth does the thing work?” asked Rupert Grant, with bright and + fascinated eyes. + </p> + <p> + “We believe that we are doing a noble work,” said Northover warmly. “It + has continually struck us that there is no element in modern life that is + more lamentable than the fact that the modern man has to seek all artistic + existence in a sedentary state. If he wishes to float into fairyland, he + reads a book; if he wishes to dash into the thick of battle, he reads a + book; if he wishes to soar into heaven, he reads a book; if he wishes to + slide down the banisters, he reads a book. We give him these visions, but + we give him exercise at the same time, the necessity of leaping from wall + to wall, of fighting strange gentlemen, of running down long streets from + pursuers—all healthy and pleasant exercises. We give him a glimpse + of that great morning world of Robin Hood or the Knights Errant, when one + great game was played under the splendid sky. We give him back his + childhood, that godlike time when we can act stories, be our own heroes, + and at the same instant dance and dream.” + </p> + <p> + Basil gazed at him curiously. The most singular psychological discovery + had been reserved to the end, for as the little business man ceased + speaking he had the blazing eyes of a fanatic. + </p> + <p> + Major Brown received the explanation with complete simplicity and good + humour. + </p> + <p> + “Of course; awfully dense, sir,” he said. “No doubt at all, the scheme + excellent. But I don't think—” He paused a moment, and looked + dreamily out of the window. “I don't think you will find me in it. + Somehow, when one's seen—seen the thing itself, you know—blood + and men screaming, one feels about having a little house and a little + hobby; in the Bible, you know, 'There remaineth a rest'.” + </p> + <p> + Northover bowed. Then after a pause he said: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, may I offer you my card. If any of the rest of you desire, at + any time, to communicate with me, despite Major Brown's view of the matter—” + </p> + <p> + “I should be obliged for your card, sir,” said the Major, in his abrupt + but courteous voice. “Pay for chair.” + </p> + <p> + The agent of Romance and Adventure handed his card, laughing. + </p> + <p> + It ran, “P. G. Northover, B.A., C.Q.T., Adventure and Romance Agency, 14 + Tanner's Court, Fleet Street.” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth is 'C.Q.T.'?” asked Rupert Grant, looking over the Major's + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know?” returned Northover. “Haven't you ever heard of the Club + of Queer Trades?” + </p> + <p> + “There seems to be a confounded lot of funny things we haven't heard of,” + said the little Major reflectively. “What's this one?” + </p> + <p> + “The Club of Queer Trades is a society consisting exclusively of people + who have invented some new and curious way of making money. I was one of + the earliest members.” + </p> + <p> + “You deserve to be,” said Basil, taking up his great white hat, with a + smile, and speaking for the last time that evening. + </p> + <p> + When they had passed out the Adventure and Romance agent wore a queer + smile, as he trod down the fire and locked up his desk. “A fine chap, that + Major; when one hasn't a touch of the poet one stands some chance of being + a poem. But to think of such a clockwork little creature of all people + getting into the nets of one of Grigsby's tales,” and he laughed out aloud + in the silence. + </p> + <p> + Just as the laugh echoed away, there came a sharp knock at the door. An + owlish head, with dark moustaches, was thrust in, with deprecating and + somewhat absurd inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “What! back again, Major?” cried Northover in surprise. “What can I do for + you?” + </p> + <p> + The Major shuffled feverishly into the room. + </p> + <p> + “It's horribly absurd,” he said. “Something must have got started in me + that I never knew before. But upon my soul I feel the most desperate + desire to know the end of it all.” + </p> + <p> + “The end of it all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Major. “'Jackals', and the title-deeds, and 'Death to + Major Brown'.” + </p> + <p> + The agent's face grew grave, but his eyes were amused. + </p> + <p> + “I am terribly sorry, Major,” said he, “but what you ask is impossible. I + don't know any one I would sooner oblige than you; but the rules of the + agency are strict. The Adventures are confidential; you are an outsider; I + am not allowed to let you know an inch more than I can help. I do hope you + understand—” + </p> + <p> + “There is no one,” said Brown, “who understands discipline better than I + do. Thank you very much. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + And the little man withdrew for the last time. + </p> + <p> + He married Miss Jameson, the lady with the red hair and the green + garments. She was an actress, employed (with many others) by the Romance + Agency; and her marriage with the prim old veteran caused some stir in her + languid and intellectualized set. She always replied very quietly that she + had met scores of men who acted splendidly in the charades provided for + them by Northover, but that she had only met one man who went down into a + coal-cellar when he really thought it contained a murderer. + </p> + <p> + The Major and she are living as happily as birds, in an absurd villa, and + the former has taken to smoking. Otherwise he is unchanged—except, + perhaps, there are moments when, alert and full of feminine unselfishness + as the Major is by nature, he falls into a trance of abstraction. Then his + wife recognizes with a concealed smile, by the blind look in his blue + eyes, that he is wondering what were the title-deeds, and why he was not + allowed to mention jackals. But, like so many old soldiers, Brown is + religious, and believes that he will realize the rest of those purple + adventures in a better world. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 2. The Painful Fall of a Great Reputation + </h2> + <p> + Basil Grant and I were talking one day in what is perhaps the most perfect + place for talking on earth—the top of a tolerably deserted tramcar. + To talk on the top of a hill is superb, but to talk on the top of a flying + hill is a fairy tale. + </p> + <p> + The vast blank space of North London was flying by; the very pace gave us + a sense of its immensity and its meanness. It was, as it were, a base + infinitude, a squalid eternity, and we felt the real horror of the poor + parts of London, the horror that is so totally missed and misrepresented + by the sensational novelists who depict it as being a matter of narrow + streets, filthy houses, criminals and maniacs, and dens of vice. In a + narrow street, in a den of vice, you do not expect civilization, you do + not expect order. But the horror of this was the fact that there was + civilization, that there was order, but that civilisation only showed its + morbidity, and order only its monotony. No one would say, in going through + a criminal slum, “I see no statues. I notice no cathedrals.” But here + there were public buildings; only they were mostly lunatic asylums. Here + there were statues; only they were mostly statues of railway engineers and + philanthropists—two dingy classes of men united by their common + contempt for the people. Here there were churches; only they were the + churches of dim and erratic sects, Agapemonites or Irvingites. Here, above + all, there were broad roads and vast crossings and tramway lines and + hospitals and all the real marks of civilization. But though one never + knew, in one sense, what one would see next, there was one thing we knew + we should not see—anything really great, central, of the first + class, anything that humanity had adored. And with revulsion indescribable + our emotions returned, I think, to those really close and crooked entries, + to those really mean streets, to those genuine slums which lie round the + Thames and the City, in which nevertheless a real possibility remains that + at any chance corner the great cross of the great cathedral of Wren may + strike down the street like a thunderbolt. + </p> + <p> + “But you must always remember also,” said Grant to me, in his heavy + abstracted way, when I had urged this view, “that the very vileness of the + life of these ordered plebeian places bears witness to the victory of the + human soul. I agree with you. I agree that they have to live in something + worse than barbarism. They have to live in a fourth-rate civilization. But + yet I am practically certain that the majority of people here are good + people. And being good is an adventure far more violent and daring than + sailing round the world. Besides—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” I said. + </p> + <p> + No answer came. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” I said, looking up. + </p> + <p> + The big blue eyes of Basil Grant were standing out of his head and he was + paying no attention to me. He was staring over the side of the tram. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” I asked, peering over also. + </p> + <p> + “It is very odd,” said Grant at last, grimly, “that I should have been + caught out like this at the very moment of my optimism. I said all these + people were good, and there is the wickedest man in England.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” I asked, leaning over further, “where?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I was right enough,” he went on, in that strange continuous and + sleepy tone which always angered his hearers at acute moments, “I was + right enough when I said all these people were good. They are heroes; they + are saints. Now and then they may perhaps steal a spoon or two; they may + beat a wife or two with the poker. But they are saints all the same; they + are angels; they are robed in white; they are clad with wings and haloes—at + any rate compared to that man.” + </p> + <p> + “Which man?” I cried again, and then my eye caught the figure at which + Basil's bull's eyes were glaring. + </p> + <p> + He was a slim, smooth person, passing very quickly among the quickly + passing crowd, but though there was nothing about him sufficient to + attract a startled notice, there was quite enough to demand a curious + consideration when once that notice was attracted. He wore a black + top-hat, but there was enough in it of those strange curves whereby the + decadent artist of the eighties tried to turn the top-hat into something + as rhythmic as an Etruscan vase. His hair, which was largely grey, was + curled with the instinct of one who appreciated the gradual beauty of grey + and silver. The rest of his face was oval and, I thought, rather Oriental; + he had two black tufts of moustache. + </p> + <p> + “What has he done?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure of the details,” said Grant, “but his besetting sin is a + desire to intrigue to the disadvantage of others. Probably he has adopted + some imposture or other to effect his plan.” + </p> + <p> + “What plan?” I asked. “If you know all about him, why don't you tell me + why he is the wickedest man in England? What is his name?” + </p> + <p> + Basil Grant stared at me for some moments. + </p> + <p> + “I think you've made a mistake in my meaning,” he said. “I don't know his + name. I never saw him before in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Never saw him before!” I cried, with a kind of anger; “then what in + heaven's name do you mean by saying that he is the wickedest man in + England?” + </p> + <p> + “I meant what I said,” said Basil Grant calmly. “The moment I saw that + man, I saw all these people stricken with a sudden and splendid innocence. + I saw that while all ordinary poor men in the streets were being + themselves, he was not being himself. I saw that all the men in these + slums, cadgers, pickpockets, hooligans, are all, in the deepest sense, + trying to be good. And I saw that that man was trying to be evil.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you never saw him before—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “In God's name, look at his face,” cried out Basil in a voice that + startled the driver. “Look at the eyebrows. They mean that infernal pride + which made Satan so proud that he sneered even at heaven when he was one + of the first angels in it. Look at his moustaches, they are so grown as to + insult humanity. In the name of the sacred heavens look at his hair. In + the name of God and the stars, look at his hat.” + </p> + <p> + I stirred uncomfortably. + </p> + <p> + “But, after all,” I said, “this is very fanciful—perfectly absurd. + Look at the mere facts. You have never seen the man before, you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the mere facts,” he cried out in a kind of despair. “The mere facts! + Do you really admit—are you still so sunk in superstitions, so + clinging to dim and prehistoric altars, that you believe in facts? Do you + not trust an immediate impression?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, an immediate impression may be,” I said, “a little less practical + than facts.” + </p> + <p> + “Bosh,” he said. “On what else is the whole world run but immediate + impressions? What is more practical? My friend, the philosophy of this + world may be founded on facts, its business is run on spiritual + impressions and atmospheres. Why do you refuse or accept a clerk? Do you + measure his skull? Do you read up his physiological state in a handbook? + Do you go upon facts at all? Not a scrap. You accept a clerk who may save + your business—you refuse a clerk that may rob your till, entirely + upon those immediate mystical impressions under the pressure of which I + pronounce, with a perfect sense of certainty and sincerity, that that man + walking in that street beside us is a humbug and a villain of some kind.” + </p> + <p> + “You always put things well,” I said, “but, of course, such things cannot + immediately be put to the test.” + </p> + <p> + Basil sprang up straight and swayed with the swaying car. + </p> + <p> + “Let us get off and follow him,” he said. “I bet you five pounds it will + turn out as I say.” + </p> + <p> + And with a scuttle, a jump, and a run, we were off the car. + </p> + <p> + The man with the curved silver hair and the curved Eastern face walked + along for some time, his long splendid frock-coat flying behind him. Then + he swung sharply out of the great glaring road and disappeared down an + ill-lit alley. We swung silently after him. + </p> + <p> + “This is an odd turning for a man of that kind to take,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “A man of what kind?” asked my friend. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, “a man with that kind of expression and those boots. I + thought it rather odd, to tell the truth, that he should be in this part + of the world at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” said Basil, and said no more. + </p> + <p> + We tramped on, looking steadily in front of us. The elegant figure, like + the figure of a black swan, was silhouetted suddenly against the glare of + intermittent gaslight and then swallowed again in night. The intervals + between the lights were long, and a fog was thickening the whole city. Our + pace, therefore, had become swift and mechanical between the lamp-posts; + but Basil came to a standstill suddenly like a reined horse; I stopped + also. We had almost run into the man. A great part of the solid darkness + in front of us was the darkness of his body. + </p> + <p> + At first I thought he had turned to face us. But though we were hardly a + yard off he did not realize that we were there. He tapped four times on a + very low and dirty door in the dark, crabbed street. A gleam of gas cut + the darkness as it opened slowly. We listened intently, but the interview + was short and simple and inexplicable as an interview could be. Our + exquisite friend handed in what looked like a paper or a card and said: + </p> + <p> + “At once. Take a cab.” + </p> + <p> + A heavy, deep voice from inside said: + </p> + <p> + “Right you are.” + </p> + <p> + And with a click we were in the blackness again, and striding after the + striding stranger through a labyrinth of London lanes, the lights just + helping us. It was only five o'clock, but winter and the fog had made it + like midnight. + </p> + <p> + “This is really an extraordinary walk for the patent-leather boots,” I + repeated. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Basil humbly. “It leads to Berkeley Square.” + </p> + <p> + As I tramped on I strained my eyes through the dusky atmosphere and tried + to make out the direction described. For some ten minutes I wondered and + doubted; at the end of that I saw that my friend was right. We were coming + to the great dreary spaces of fashionable London—more dreary, one + must admit, even than the dreary plebeian spaces. + </p> + <p> + “This is very extraordinary!” said Basil Grant, as we turned into Berkeley + Square. + </p> + <p> + “What is extraordinary?” I asked. “I thought you said it was quite + natural.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not wonder,” answered Basil, “at his walking through nasty streets; + I do not wonder at his going to Berkeley Square. But I do wonder at his + going to the house of a very good man.” + </p> + <p> + “What very good man?” I asked with exasperation. + </p> + <p> + “The operation of time is a singular one,” he said with his imperturbable + irrelevancy. “It is not a true statement of the case to say that I have + forgotten my career when I was a judge and a public man. I remember it all + vividly, but it is like remembering some novel. But fifteen years ago I + knew this square as well as Lord Rosebery does, and a confounded long + sight better than that man who is going up the steps of old Beaumont's + house.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is old Beaumont?” I asked irritably. + </p> + <p> + “A perfectly good fellow. Lord Beaumont of Foxwood—don't you know + his name? He is a man of transparent sincerity, a nobleman who does more + work than a navvy, a socialist, an anarchist, I don't know what; anyhow, + he's a philosopher and philanthropist. I admit he has the slight + disadvantage of being, beyond all question, off his head. He has that real + disadvantage which has arisen out of the modern worship of progress and + novelty; and he thinks anything odd and new must be an advance. If you + went to him and proposed to eat your grandmother, he would agree with you, + so long as you put it on hygienic and public grounds, as a cheap + alternative to cremation. So long as you progress fast enough it seems a + matter of indifference to him whether you are progressing to the stars or + the devil. So his house is filled with an endless succession of literary + and political fashions; men who wear long hair because it is romantic; men + who wear short hair because it is medical; men who walk on their feet only + to exercise their hands; and men who walk on their hands for fear of + tiring their feet. But though the inhabitants of his salons are generally + fools, like himself, they are almost always, like himself, good men. I am + really surprised to see a criminal enter there.” + </p> + <p> + “My good fellow,” I said firmly, striking my foot on the pavement, “the + truth of this affair is very simple. To use your own eloquent language, + you have the 'slight disadvantage' of being off your head. You see a total + stranger in a public street; you choose to start certain theories about + his eyebrows. You then treat him as a burglar because he enters an honest + man's door. The thing is too monstrous. Admit that it is, Basil, and come + home with me. Though these people are still having tea, yet with the + distance we have to go, we shall be late for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Basil's eyes were shining in the twilight like lamps. + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” he said, “that I had outlived vanity.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want now?” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “I want,” he cried out, “what a girl wants when she wears her new frock; I + want what a boy wants when he goes in for a clanging match with a monitor—I + want to show somebody what a fine fellow I am. I am as right about that + man as I am about your having a hat on your head. You say it cannot be + tested. I say it can. I will take you to see my old friend Beaumont. He is + a delightful man to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean—?” I began. + </p> + <p> + “I will apologize,” he said calmly, “for our not being dressed for a + call,” and walking across the vast misty square, he walked up the dark + stone steps and rang at the bell. + </p> + <p> + A severe servant in black and white opened the door to us: on receiving my + friend's name his manner passed in a flash from astonishment to respect. + We were ushered into the house very quickly, but not so quickly but that + our host, a white-haired man with a fiery face, came out quickly to meet + us. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” he cried, shaking Basil's hand again and again, “I have + not seen you for years. Have you been—er—” he said, rather + wildly, “have you been in the country?” + </p> + <p> + “Not for all that time,” answered Basil, smiling. “I have long given up my + official position, my dear Philip, and have been living in a deliberate + retirement. I hope I do not come at an inopportune moment.” + </p> + <p> + “An inopportune moment,” cried the ardent gentleman. “You come at the most + opportune moment I could imagine. Do you know who is here?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not,” answered Grant, with gravity. Even as he spoke a roar of + laughter came from the inner room. + </p> + <p> + “Basil,” said Lord Beaumont solemnly, “I have Wimpole here.” + </p> + <p> + “And who is Wimpole?” + </p> + <p> + “Basil,” cried the other, “you must have been in the country. You must + have been in the antipodes. You must have been in the moon. Who is + Wimpole? Who was Shakespeare?” + </p> + <p> + “As to who Shakespeare was,” answered my friend placidly, “my views go no + further than thinking that he was not Bacon. More probably he was Mary + Queen of Scots. But as to who Wimpole is—” and his speech also was + cloven with a roar of laughter from within. + </p> + <p> + “Wimpole!” cried Lord Beaumont, in a sort of ecstasy. “Haven't you heard + of the great modern wit? My dear fellow, he has turned conversation, I do + not say into an art—for that, perhaps, it always was but into a + great art, like the statuary of Michael Angelo—an art of + masterpieces. His repartees, my good friend, startle one like a man shot + dead. They are final; they are—” + </p> + <p> + Again there came the hilarious roar from the room, and almost with the + very noise of it, a big, panting apoplectic old gentleman came out of the + inner house into the hall where we were standing. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear chap,” began Lord Beaumont hastily. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Beaumont, I won't stand it,” exploded the large old + gentleman. “I won't be made game of by a twopenny literary adventurer like + that. I won't be made a guy. I won't—” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Beaumont feverishly. “Let me introduce you. This is Mr + Justice Grant—that is, Mr Grant. Basil, I am sure you have heard of + Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh.” + </p> + <p> + “Who has not?” asked Grant, and bowed to the worthy old baronet, eyeing + him with some curiosity. He was hot and heavy in his momentary anger, but + even that could not conceal the noble though opulent outline of his face + and body, the florid white hair, the Roman nose, the body stalwart though + corpulent, the chin aristocratic though double. He was a magnificent + courtly gentleman; so much of a gentleman that he could show an + unquestionable weakness of anger without altogether losing dignity; so + much of a gentleman that even his faux pas were well-bred. + </p> + <p> + “I am distressed beyond expression, Beaumont,” he said gruffly, “to fail + in respect to these gentlemen, and even more especially to fail in it in + your house. But it is not you or they that are in any way concerned, but + that flashy half-caste jackanapes—” + </p> + <p> + At this moment a young man with a twist of red moustache and a sombre air + came out of the inner room. He also did not seem to be greatly enjoying + the intellectual banquet within. + </p> + <p> + “I think you remember my friend and secretary, Mr Drummond,” said Lord + Beaumont, turning to Grant, “even if you only remember him as a + schoolboy.” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly,” said the other. Mr Drummond shook hands pleasantly and + respectfully, but the cloud was still on his brow. Turning to Sir Walter + Cholmondeliegh, he said: + </p> + <p> + “I was sent by Lady Beaumont to express her hope that you were not going + yet, Sir Walter. She says she has scarcely seen anything of you.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman, still red in the face, had a temporary internal + struggle; then his good manners triumphed, and with a gesture of obeisance + and a vague utterance of, “If Lady Beaumont... a lady, of course,” he + followed the young man back into the salon. He had scarcely been deposited + there half a minute before another peal of laughter told that he had (in + all probability) been scored off again. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I can excuse dear old Cholmondeliegh,” said Beaumont, as he + helped us off with our coats. “He has not the modern mind.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the modern mind?” asked Grant. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's enlightened, you know, and progressive—and faces the facts + of life seriously.” At this moment another roar of laughter came from + within. + </p> + <p> + “I only ask,” said Basil, “because of the last two friends of yours who + had the modern mind; one thought it wrong to eat fishes and the other + thought it right to eat men. I beg your pardon—this way, if I + remember right.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” said Lord Beaumont, with a sort of feverish entertainment, + as he trotted after us towards the interior, “I can never quite make out + which side you are on. Sometimes you seem so liberal and sometimes so + reactionary. Are you a modern, Basil?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Basil, loudly and cheerfully, as he entered the crowded + drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + This caused a slight diversion, and some eyes were turned away from our + slim friend with the Oriental face for the first time that afternoon. Two + people, however, still looked at him. One was the daughter of the house, + Muriel Beaumont, who gazed at him with great violet eyes and with the + intense and awful thirst of the female upper class for verbal amusement + and stimulus. The other was Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh, who looked at him + with a still and sullen but unmistakable desire to throw him out of the + window. + </p> + <p> + He sat there, coiled rather than seated on the easy chair; everything from + the curves of his smooth limbs to the coils of his silvered hair + suggesting the circles of a serpent more than the straight limbs of a man—the + unmistakable, splendid serpentine gentleman we had seen walking in North + London, his eyes shining with repeated victory. + </p> + <p> + “What I can't understand, Mr Wimpole,” said Muriel Beaumont eagerly, “is + how you contrive to treat all this so easily. You say things quite + philosophical and yet so wildly funny. If I thought of such things, I'm + sure I should laugh outright when the thought first came.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with Miss Beaumont,” said Sir Walter, suddenly exploding with + indignation. “If I had thought of anything so futile, I should find it + difficult to keep my countenance.” + </p> + <p> + “Difficult to keep your countenance,” cried Mr Wimpole, with an air of + alarm; “oh, do keep your countenance! Keep it in the British Museum.” + </p> + <p> + Every one laughed uproariously, as they always do at an already admitted + readiness, and Sir Walter, turning suddenly purple, shouted out: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who you are talking to, with your confounded tomfooleries?” + </p> + <p> + “I never talk tomfooleries,” said the other, “without first knowing my + audience.” + </p> + <p> + Grant walked across the room and tapped the red-moustached secretary on + the shoulder. That gentleman was leaning against the wall regarding the + whole scene with a great deal of gloom; but, I fancied, with very + particular gloom when his eyes fell on the young lady of the house + rapturously listening to Wimpole. + </p> + <p> + “May I have a word with you outside, Drummond?” asked Grant. “It is about + business. Lady Beaumont will excuse us.” + </p> + <p> + I followed my friend, at his own request, greatly wondering, to this + strange external interview. We passed abruptly into a kind of side room + out of the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Drummond,” said Basil sharply, “there are a great many good people, and a + great many sane people here this afternoon. Unfortunately, by a kind of + coincidence, all the good people are mad, and all the sane people are + wicked. You are the only person I know of here who is honest and has also + some common sense. What do you make of Wimpole?” + </p> + <p> + Mr Secretary Drummond had a pale face and red hair; but at this his face + became suddenly as red as his moustache. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a fair judge of him,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked Grant. + </p> + <p> + “Because I hate him like hell,” said the other, after a long pause and + violently. + </p> + <p> + Neither Grant nor I needed to ask the reason; his glances towards Miss + Beaumont and the stranger were sufficiently illuminating. Grant said + quietly: + </p> + <p> + “But before—before you came to hate him, what did you really think + of him?” + </p> + <p> + “I am in a terrible difficulty,” said the young man, and his voice told + us, like a clear bell, that he was an honest man. “If I spoke about him as + I feel about him now, I could not trust myself. And I should like to be + able to say that when I first saw him I thought he was charming. But + again, the fact is I didn't. I hate him, that is my private affair. But I + also disapprove of him—really I do believe I disapprove of him quite + apart from my private feelings. When first he came, I admit he was much + quieter, but I did not like, so to speak, the moral swell of him. Then + that jolly old Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh got introduced to us, and this + fellow, with his cheap-jack wit, began to score off the old man in the way + he does now. Then I felt that he must be a bad lot; it must be bad to + fight the old and the kindly. And he fights the poor old chap savagely, + unceasingly, as if he hated old age and kindliness. Take, if you want it, + the evidence of a prejudiced witness. I admit that I hate the man because + a certain person admires him. But I believe that apart from that I should + hate the man because old Sir Walter hates him.” + </p> + <p> + This speech affected me with a genuine sense of esteem and pity for the + young man; that is, of pity for him because of his obviously hopeless + worship of Miss Beaumont, and of esteem for him because of the direct + realistic account of the history of Wimpole which he had given. Still, I + was sorry that he seemed so steadily set against the man, and could not + help referring it to an instinct of his personal relations, however nobly + disguised from himself. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of these meditations, Grant whispered in my ear what was + perhaps the most startling of all interruptions. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of God, let's get away.” + </p> + <p> + I have never known exactly in how odd a way this odd old man affected me. + I only know that for some reason or other he so affected me that I was, + within a few minutes, in the street outside. + </p> + <p> + “This,” he said, “is a beastly but amusing affair.” + </p> + <p> + “What is?” I asked, baldly enough. + </p> + <p> + “This affair. Listen to me, my old friend. Lord and Lady Beaumont have + just invited you and me to a grand dinner-party this very night, at which + Mr Wimpole will be in all his glory. Well, there is nothing very + extraordinary about that. The extraordinary thing is that we are not + going.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, really,” I said, “it is already six o'clock and I doubt if we could + get home and dress. I see nothing extraordinary in the fact that we are + not going.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you?” said Grant. “I'll bet you'll see something extraordinary in + what we're doing instead.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Doing instead?” I asked. “What are we doing instead?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said he, “we are waiting for one or two hours outside this house on + a winter evening. You must forgive me; it is all my vanity. It is only to + show you that I am right. Can you, with the assistance of this cigar, wait + until both Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh and the mystic Wimpole have left this + house?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” I said. “But I do not know which is likely to leave first. + Have you any notion?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “Sir Walter may leave first in a glow of rage. Or again, Mr + Wimpole may leave first, feeling that his last epigram is a thing to be + flung behind him like a firework. And Sir Walter may remain some time to + analyse Mr Wimpole's character. But they will both have to leave within + reasonable time, for they will both have to get dressed and come back to + dinner here tonight.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke the shrill double whistle from the porch of the great house + drew a dark cab to the dark portal. And then a thing happened that we + really had not expected. Mr Wimpole and Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh came out + at the same moment. + </p> + <p> + They paused for a second or two opposite each other in a natural doubt; + then a certain geniality, fundamental perhaps in both of them, made Sir + Walter smile and say: “The night is foggy. Pray take my cab.” + </p> + <p> + Before I could count twenty the cab had gone rattling up the street with + both of them. And before I could count twenty-three Grant had hissed in my + ear: + </p> + <p> + “Run after the cab; run as if you were running from a mad dog—run.” + </p> + <p> + We pelted on steadily, keeping the cab in sight, through dark mazy + streets. God only, I thought, knows why we are running at all, but we are + running hard. Fortunately we did not run far. The cab pulled up at the + fork of two streets and Sir Walter paid the cabman, who drove away + rejoicing, having just come in contact with the more generous among the + rich. Then the two men talked together as men do talk together after + giving and receiving great insults, the talk which leads either to + forgiveness or a duel—at least so it seemed as we watched it from + ten yards off. Then the two men shook hands heartily, and one went down + one fork of the road and one down another. + </p> + <p> + Basil, with one of his rare gestures, flung his arms forward. + </p> + <p> + “Run after that scoundrel,” he cried; “let us catch him now.” + </p> + <p> + We dashed across the open space and reached the juncture of two paths. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” I shouted wildly to Grant. “That's the wrong turning.” + </p> + <p> + He ran on. + </p> + <p> + “Idiot!” I howled. “Sir Walter's gone down there. Wimpole has slipped us. + He's half a mile down the other road. You're wrong... Are you deaf? You're + wrong!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I am,” he panted, and ran on. + </p> + <p> + “But I saw him!” I cried. “Look in front of you. Is that Wimpole? It's the + old man... What are you doing? What are we to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Keep running,” said Grant. + </p> + <p> + Running soon brought us up to the broad back of the pompous old baronet, + whose white whiskers shone silver in the fitful lamplight. My brain was + utterly bewildered. I grasped nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Charlie,” said Basil hoarsely, “can you believe in my common sense for + four minutes?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” I said, panting. + </p> + <p> + “Then help me to catch that man in front and hold him down. Do it at once + when I say 'Now'. Now!” + </p> + <p> + We sprang on Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh, and rolled that portly old + gentleman on his back. He fought with a commendable valour, but we got him + tight. I had not the remotest notion why. He had a splendid and + full-blooded vigour; when he could not box he kicked, and we bound him; + when he could not kick he shouted, and we gagged him. Then, by Basil's + arrangement, we dragged him into a small court by the street side and + waited. As I say, I had no notion why. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to incommode you,” said Basil calmly out of the darkness; “but + I have made an appointment here.” + </p> + <p> + “An appointment!” I said blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, glancing calmly at the apoplectic old aristocrat gagged on + the ground, whose eyes were starting impotently from his head. “I have + made an appointment here with a thoroughly nice young fellow. An old + friend. Jasper Drummond his name is—you may have met him this + afternoon at the Beaumonts. He can scarcely come though till the + Beaumonts' dinner is over.” + </p> + <p> + For I do not know how many hours we stood there calmly in the darkness. By + the time those hours were over I had thoroughly made up my mind that the + same thing had happened which had happened long ago on the bench of a + British Court of Justice. Basil Grant had gone mad. I could imagine no + other explanation of the facts, with the portly, purple-faced old country + gentleman flung there strangled on the floor like a bundle of wood. + </p> + <p> + After about four hours a lean figure in evening dress rushed into the + court. A glimpse of gaslight showed the red moustache and white face of + Jasper Drummond. + </p> + <p> + “Mr Grant,” he said blankly, “the thing is incredible. You were right; but + what did you mean? All through this dinner-party, where dukes and + duchesses and editors of Quarterlies had come especially to hear him, that + extraordinary Wimpole kept perfectly silent. He didn't say a funny thing. + He didn't say anything at all. What does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + Grant pointed to the portly old gentleman on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “That is what it means,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Drummond, on observing a fat gentleman lying so calmly about the place, + jumped back, as from a mouse. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he said weakly, “... what?” + </p> + <p> + Basil bent suddenly down and tore a paper out of Sir Walter's + breastpocket, a paper which the baronet, even in his hampered state, + seemed to make some effort to retain. + </p> + <p> + It was a large loose piece of white wrapping paper, which Mr Jasper + Drummond read with a vacant eye and undisguised astonishment. As far as he + could make out, it consisted of a series of questions and answers, or at + least of remarks and replies, arranged in the manner of a catechism. The + greater part of the document had been torn and obliterated in the + struggle, but the termination remained. It ran as follows: + </p> + <p> + C. Says... Keep countenance. + </p> + <p> + W. Keep... British Museum. + </p> + <p> + C. Know whom talk... absurdities. + </p> + <p> + W. Never talk absurdities without... + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” cried Drummond, flinging the paper down in a sort of final + fury. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” replied Grant, his voice rising into a kind of splendid + chant. “What is it? It is a great new profession. A great new trade. A + trifle immoral, I admit, but still great, like piracy.” + </p> + <p> + “A new profession!” said the young man with the red moustache vaguely; “a + new trade!” + </p> + <p> + “A new trade,” repeated Grant, with a strange exultation, “a new + profession! What a pity it is immoral.” + </p> + <p> + “But what the deuce is it?” cried Drummond and I in a breath of blasphemy. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said Grant calmly, “the great new trade of the Organizer of + Repartee. This fat old gentleman lying on the ground strikes you, as I + have no doubt, as very stupid and very rich. Let me clear his character. + He is, like ourselves, very clever and very poor. He is also not really at + all fat; all that is stuffing. He is not particularly old, and his name is + not Cholmondeliegh. He is a swindler, and a swindler of a perfectly + delightful and novel kind. He hires himself out at dinner-parties to lead + up to other people's repartees. According to a preconcerted scheme (which + you may find on that piece of paper), he says the stupid things he has + arranged for himself, and his client says the clever things arranged for + him. In short, he allows himself to be scored off for a guinea a night.” + </p> + <p> + “And this fellow Wimpole—” began Drummond with indignation. + </p> + <p> + “This fellow Wimpole,” said Basil Grant, smiling, “will not be an + intellectual rival in the future. He had some fine things, elegance and + silvered hair, and so on. But the intellect is with our friend on the + floor.” + </p> + <p> + “That fellow,” cried Drummond furiously, “that fellow ought to be in + gaol.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Basil indulgently; “he ought to be in the Club of Queer + Trades.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 3. The Awful Reason of the Vicar's Visit + </h2> + <p> + The revolt of Matter against Man (which I believe to exist) has now been + reduced to a singular condition. It is the small things rather than the + large things which make war against us and, I may add, beat us. The bones + of the last mammoth have long ago decayed, a mighty wreck; the tempests no + longer devour our navies, nor the mountains with hearts of fire heap hell + over our cities. But we are engaged in a bitter and eternal war with small + things; chiefly with microbes and with collar studs. The stud with which I + was engaged (on fierce and equal terms) as I made the above reflections, + was one which I was trying to introduce into my shirt collar when a loud + knock came at the door. + </p> + <p> + My first thought was as to whether Basil Grant had called to fetch me. He + and I were to turn up at the same dinner-party (for which I was in the act + of dressing), and it might be that he had taken it into his head to come + my way, though we had arranged to go separately. It was a small and + confidential affair at the table of a good but unconventional political + lady, an old friend of his. She had asked us both to meet a third guest, a + Captain Fraser, who had made something of a name and was an authority on + chimpanzees. As Basil was an old friend of the hostess and I had never + seen her, I felt that it was quite possible that he (with his usual social + sagacity) might have decided to take me along in order to break the ice. + The theory, like all my theories, was complete; but as a fact it was not + Basil. + </p> + <p> + I was handed a visiting card inscribed: “Rev. Ellis Shorter”, and + underneath was written in pencil, but in a hand in which even hurry could + not conceal a depressing and gentlemanly excellence, “Asking the favour of + a few moments' conversation on a most urgent matter.” + </p> + <p> + I had already subdued the stud, thereby proclaiming that the image of God + has supremacy over all matters (a valuable truth), and throwing on my + dress-coat and waistcoat, hurried into the drawing-room. He rose at my + entrance, flapping like a seal; I can use no other description. He flapped + a plaid shawl over his right arm; he flapped a pair of pathetic black + gloves; he flapped his clothes; I may say, without exaggeration, that he + flapped his eyelids, as he rose. He was a bald-browed, white-haired, + white-whiskered old clergyman, of a flappy and floppy type. He said: + </p> + <p> + “I am so sorry. I am so very sorry. I am so extremely sorry. I come—I + can only say—I can only say in my defence, that I come—upon an + important matter. Pray forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + I told him I forgave perfectly and waited. + </p> + <p> + “What I have to say,” he said brokenly, “is so dreadful—it is so + dreadful—I have lived a quiet life.” + </p> + <p> + I was burning to get away, for it was already doubtful if I should be in + time for dinner. But there was something about the old man's honest air of + bitterness that seemed to open to me the possibilities of life larger and + more tragic than my own. + </p> + <p> + I said gently: “Pray go on.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless the old gentleman, being a gentleman as well as old, noticed + my secret impatience and seemed still more unmanned. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so sorry,” he said meekly; “I wouldn't have come—but for—your + friend Major Brown recommended me to come here.” + </p> + <p> + “Major Brown!” I said, with some interest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Reverend Mr Shorter, feverishly flapping his plaid shawl + about. “He told me you helped him in a great difficulty—and my + difficulty! Oh, my dear sir, it's a matter of life and death.” + </p> + <p> + I rose abruptly, in an acute perplexity. “Will it take long, Mr Shorter?” + I asked. “I have to go out to dinner almost at once.” + </p> + <p> + He rose also, trembling from head to foot, and yet somehow, with all his + moral palsy, he rose to the dignity of his age and his office. + </p> + <p> + “I have no right, Mr Swinburne—I have no right at all,” he said. “If + you have to go out to dinner, you have of course—a perfect right—of + course a perfect right. But when you come back—a man will be dead.” + </p> + <p> + And he sat down, quaking like a jelly. + </p> + <p> + The triviality of the dinner had been in those two minutes dwarfed and + drowned in my mind. I did not want to go and see a political widow, and a + captain who collected apes; I wanted to hear what had brought this dear, + doddering old vicar into relation with immediate perils. + </p> + <p> + “Will you have a cigar?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” he said, with indescribable embarrassment, as if not + smoking cigars was a social disgrace. + </p> + <p> + “A glass of wine?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, no, thank you; not just now,” he repeated with that + hysterical eagerness with which people who do not drink at all often try + to convey that on any other night of the week they would sit up all night + drinking rum-punch. “Not just now, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing else I can get for you?” I said, feeling genuinely sorry for the + well-mannered old donkey. “A cup of tea?” + </p> + <p> + I saw a struggle in his eye and I conquered. When the cup of tea came he + drank it like a dipsomaniac gulping brandy. Then he fell back and said: + </p> + <p> + “I have had such a time, Mr Swinburne. I am not used to these excitements. + As Vicar of Chuntsey, in Essex”—he threw this in with an + indescribable airiness of vanity—“I have never known such things + happen.” + </p> + <p> + “What things happen?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + He straightened himself with sudden dignity. + </p> + <p> + “As Vicar of Chuntsey, in Essex,” he said, “I have never been forcibly + dressed up as an old woman and made to take part in a crime in the + character of an old woman. Never once. My experience may be small. It may + be insufficient. But it has never occurred to me before.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never heard of it,” I said, “as among the duties of a clergyman. + But I am not well up in church matters. Excuse me if perhaps I failed to + follow you correctly. Dressed up—as what?” + </p> + <p> + “As an old woman,” said the vicar solemnly, “as an old woman.” + </p> + <p> + I thought in my heart that it required no great transformation to make an + old woman of him, but the thing was evidently more tragic than comic, and + I said respectfully: + </p> + <p> + “May I ask how it occurred?” + </p> + <p> + “I will begin at the beginning,” said Mr Shorter, “and I will tell my + story with the utmost possible precision. At seventeen minutes past eleven + this morning I left the vicarage to keep certain appointments and pay + certain visits in the village. My first visit was to Mr Jervis, the + treasurer of our League of Christian Amusements, with whom I concluded + some business touching the claim made by Parkes the gardener in the matter + of the rolling of our tennis lawn. I then visited Mrs Arnett, a very + earnest churchwoman, but permanently bedridden. She is the author of + several small works of devotion, and of a book of verse, entitled (unless + my memory misleads me) Eglantine.” + </p> + <p> + He uttered all this not only with deliberation, but with something that + can only be called, by a contradictory phrase, eager deliberation. He had, + I think, a vague memory in his head of the detectives in the detective + stories, who always sternly require that nothing should be kept back. + </p> + <p> + “I then proceeded,” he went on, with the same maddening conscientiousness + of manner, “to Mr Carr (not Mr James Carr, of course; Mr Robert Carr) who + is temporarily assisting our organist, and having consulted with him (on + the subject of a choir boy who is accused, I cannot as yet say whether + justly or not, of cutting holes in the organ pipes), I finally dropped in + upon a Dorcas meeting at the house of Miss Brett. The Dorcas meetings are + usually held at the vicarage, but my wife being unwell, Miss Brett, a + newcomer in our village, but very active in church work, had very kindly + consented to hold them. The Dorcas society is entirely under my wife's + management as a rule, and except for Miss Brett, who, as I say, is very + active, I scarcely know any members of it. I had, however, promised to + drop in on them, and I did so. + </p> + <p> + “When I arrived there were only four other maiden ladies with Miss Brett, + but they were sewing very busily. It is very difficult, of course, for any + person, however strongly impressed with the necessity in these matters of + full and exact exposition of the facts, to remember and repeat the actual + details of a conversation, particularly a conversation which (though + inspired with a most worthy and admirable zeal for good work) was one + which did not greatly impress the hearer's mind at the time and was in + fact—er—mostly about socks. I can, however, remember + distinctly that one of the spinster ladies (she was a thin person with a + woollen shawl, who appeared to feel the cold, and I am almost sure she was + introduced to me as Miss James) remarked that the weather was very + changeable. Miss Brett then offered me a cup of tea, which I accepted, I + cannot recall in what words. Miss Brett is a short and stout lady with + white hair. The only other figure in the group that caught my attention + was a Miss Mowbray, a small and neat lady of aristocratic manners, silver + hair, and a high voice and colour. She was the most emphatic member of the + party; and her views on the subject of pinafores, though expressed with a + natural deference to myself, were in themselves strong and advanced. + Beside her (although all five ladies were dressed simply in black) it + could not be denied that the others looked in some way what you men of the + world would call dowdy. + </p> + <p> + “After about ten minutes' conversation I rose to go, and as I did so I + heard something which—I cannot describe it—something which + seemed to—but I really cannot describe it.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you hear?” I asked, with some impatience. + </p> + <p> + “I heard,” said the vicar solemnly, “I heard Miss Mowbray (the lady with + the silver hair) say to Miss James (the lady with the woollen shawl), the + following extraordinary words. I committed them to memory on the spot, and + as soon as circumstances set me free to do so, I noted them down on a + piece of paper. I believe I have it here.” He fumbled in his + breast-pocket, bringing out mild things, note-books, circulars and + programmes of village concerts. “I heard Miss Mowbray say to Miss James, + the following words: 'Now's your time, Bill.'” + </p> + <p> + He gazed at me for a few moments after making this announcement, gravely + and unflinchingly, as if conscious that here he was unshaken about his + facts. Then he resumed, turning his bald head more towards the fire. + </p> + <p> + “This appeared to me remarkable. I could not by any means understand it. + It seemed to me first of all peculiar that one maiden lady should address + another maiden lady as 'Bill'. My experience, as I have said, may be + incomplete; maiden ladies may have among themselves and in exclusively + spinster circles wilder customs than I am aware of. But it seemed to me + odd, and I could almost have sworn (if you will not misunderstand the + phrase), I should have been strongly impelled to maintain at the time that + the words, 'Now's your time, Bill', were by no means pronounced with that + upper-class intonation which, as I have already said, had up to now + characterized Miss Mowbray's conversation. In fact, the words, 'Now's your + time, Bill', would have been, I fancy, unsuitable if pronounced with that + upper-class intonation. + </p> + <p> + “I was surprised, I repeat, then, at the remark. But I was still more + surprised when, looking round me in bewilderment, my hat and umbrella in + hand, I saw the lean lady with the woollen shawl leaning upright against + the door out of which I was just about to make my exit. She was still + knitting, and I supposed that this erect posture against the door was only + an eccentricity of spinsterhood and an oblivion of my intended departure. + </p> + <p> + “I said genially, 'I am so sorry to disturb you, Miss James, but I must + really be going. I have—er—' I stopped here, for the words she + had uttered in reply, though singularly brief and in tone extremely + business-like, were such as to render that arrest of my remarks, I think, + natural and excusable. I have these words also noted down. I have not the + least idea of their meaning; so I have only been able to render them + phonetically. But she said,” and Mr Shorter peered short-sightedly at his + papers, “she said: 'Chuck it, fat 'ead,' and she added something that + sounded like 'It's a kop', or (possibly) 'a kopt'. And then the last cord, + either of my sanity or the sanity of the universe, snapped suddenly. My + esteemed friend and helper, Miss Brett, standing by the mantelpiece, said: + 'Put 'is old 'ead in a bag, Sam, and tie 'im up before you start jawin'. + You'll be kopt yourselves some o' these days with this way of doin' + things, har lar theater.' + </p> + <p> + “My head went round and round. Was it really true, as I had suddenly + fancied a moment before, that unmarried ladies had some dreadful riotous + society of their own from which all others were excluded? I remembered + dimly in my classical days (I was a scholar in a small way once, but now, + alas! rusty), I remembered the mysteries of the Bona Dea and their strange + female freemasonry. I remembered the witches' Sabbaths. I was just, in my + absurd lightheadedness, trying to remember a line of verse about Diana's + nymphs, when Miss Mowbray threw her arm round me from behind. The moment + it held me I knew it was not a woman's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Brett—or what I had called Miss Brett—was standing in + front of me with a big revolver in her hand and a broad grin on her face. + Miss James was still leaning against the door, but had fallen into an + attitude so totally new, and so totally unfeminine, that it gave one a + shock. She was kicking her heels, with her hands in her pockets and her + cap on one side. She was a man. I mean he was a wo—no, that is I saw + that instead of being a woman she—he, I mean—that is, it was a + man.” + </p> + <p> + Mr Shorter became indescribably flurried and flapping in endeavouring to + arrange these genders and his plaid shawl at the same time. He resumed + with a higher fever of nervousness: + </p> + <p> + “As for Miss Mowbray, she—he, held me in a ring of iron. He had her + arm—that is she had his arm—round her neck—my neck I + mean—and I could not cry out. Miss Brett—that is, Mr Brett, at + least Mr something who was not Miss Brett—had the revolver pointed + at me. The other two ladies—or er—gentlemen, were rummaging in + some bag in the background. It was all clear at last: they were criminals + dressed up as women, to kidnap me! To kidnap the Vicar of Chuntsey, in + Essex. But why? Was it to be Nonconformists? + </p> + <p> + “The brute leaning against the door called out carelessly, ''Urry up, + 'Arry. Show the old bloke what the game is, and let's get off.' + </p> + <p> + “'Curse 'is eyes,' said Miss Brett—I mean the man with the revolver—'why + should we show 'im the game?' + </p> + <p> + “'If you take my advice you bloomin' well will,' said the man at the door, + whom they called Bill. 'A man wot knows wot 'e's doin' is worth ten wot + don't, even if 'e's a potty old parson.' + </p> + <p> + “'Bill's right enough,' said the coarse voice of the man who held me (it + had been Miss Mowbray's). 'Bring out the picture, 'Arry.' + </p> + <p> + “The man with the revolver walked across the room to where the other two + women—I mean men—were turning over baggage, and asked them for + something which they gave him. He came back with it across the room and + held it out in front of me. And compared to the surprise of that display, + all the previous surprises of this awful day shrank suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “It was a portrait of myself. That such a picture should be in the hands + of these scoundrels might in any case have caused a mild surprise; but no + more. It was no mild surprise that I felt. The likeness was an extremely + good one, worked up with all the accessories of the conventional + photographic studio. I was leaning my head on my hand and was relieved + against a painted landscape of woodland. It was obvious that it was no + snapshot; it was clear that I had sat for this photograph. And the truth + was that I had never sat for such a photograph. It was a photograph that I + had never had taken. + </p> + <p> + “I stared at it again and again. It seemed to me to be touched up a good + deal; it was glazed as well as framed, and the glass blurred some of the + details. But there unmistakably was my face, my eyes, my nose and mouth, + my head and hand, posed for a professional photographer. And I had never + posed so for any photographer. + </p> + <p> + “'Be'old the bloomin' miracle,' said the man with the revolver, with + ill-timed facetiousness. 'Parson, prepare to meet your God.' And with this + he slid the glass out of the frame. As the glass moved, I saw that part of + the picture was painted on it in Chinese white, notably a pair of white + whiskers and a clerical collar. And underneath was a portrait of an old + lady in a quiet black dress, leaning her head on her hand against the + woodland landscape. The old lady was as like me as one pin is like + another. It had required only the whiskers and the collar to make it me in + every hair. + </p> + <p> + “'Entertainin', ain't it?' said the man described as 'Arry, as he shot the + glass back again. 'Remarkable resemblance, parson. Gratifyin' to the lady. + Gratifyin' to you. And hi may hadd, particlery gratifyin' to us, as bein' + the probable source of a very tolerable haul. You know Colonel Hawker, the + man who's come to live in these parts, don't you?' + </p> + <p> + “I nodded. + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' said the man 'Arry, pointing to the picture, 'that's 'is mother. + 'Oo ran to catch 'im when 'e fell? She did,' and he flung his fingers in a + general gesture towards the photograph of the old lady who was exactly + like me. + </p> + <p> + “'Tell the old gent wot 'e's got to do and be done with it,' broke out + Bill from the door. 'Look 'ere, Reverend Shorter, we ain't goin' to do you + no 'arm. We'll give you a sov. for your trouble if you like. And as for + the old woman's clothes—why, you'll look lovely in 'em.' + </p> + <p> + “'You ain't much of a 'and at a description, Bill,' said the man behind + me. 'Mr Shorter, it's like this. We've got to see this man Hawker tonight. + Maybe 'e'll kiss us all and 'ave up the champagne when 'e sees us. Maybe + on the other 'and—'e won't. Maybe 'e'll be dead when we goes away. + Maybe not. But we've got to see 'im. Now as you know, 'e shuts 'isself up + and never opens the door to a soul; only you don't know why and we does. + The only one as can ever get at 'im is 'is mother. Well, it's a confounded + funny coincidence,' he said, accenting the penultimate, 'it's a very + unusual piece of good luck, but you're 'is mother.' + </p> + <p> + “'When first I saw 'er picture,' said the man Bill, shaking his head in a + ruminant manner, 'when I first saw it I said—old Shorter. Those were + my exact words—old Shorter.' + </p> + <p> + “'What do you mean, you wild creatures?' I gasped. 'What am I to do?' + </p> + <p> + “'That's easy said, your 'oldness,' said the man with the revolver, + good-humouredly; 'you've got to put on those clothes,' and he pointed to a + poke-bonnet and a heap of female clothes in the corner of the room. + </p> + <p> + “I will not dwell, Mr Swinburne, upon the details of what followed. I had + no choice. I could not fight five men, to say nothing of a loaded pistol. + In five minutes, sir, the Vicar of Chuntsey was dressed as an old woman—as + somebody else's mother, if you please—and was dragged out of the + house to take part in a crime. + </p> + <p> + “It was already late in the afternoon, and the nights of winter were + closing in fast. On a dark road, in a blowing wind, we set out towards the + lonely house of Colonel Hawker, perhaps the queerest cortege that ever + straggled up that or any other road. To every human eye, in every + external, we were six very respectable old ladies of small means, in black + dresses and refined but antiquated bonnets; and we were really five + criminals and a clergyman. + </p> + <p> + “I will cut a long story short. My brain was whirling like a windmill as I + walked, trying to think of some manner of escape. To cry out, so long as + we were far from houses, would be suicidal, for it would be easy for the + ruffians to knife me or to gag me and fling me into a ditch. On the other + hand, to attempt to stop strangers and explain the situation was + impossible, because of the frantic folly of the situation itself. Long + before I had persuaded the chance postman or carrier of so absurd a story, + my companions would certainly have got off themselves, and in all + probability would have carried me off, as a friend of theirs who had the + misfortune to be mad or drunk. The last thought, however, was an + inspiration; though a very terrible one. Had it come to this, that the + Vicar of Chuntsey must pretend to be mad or drunk? It had come to this. + </p> + <p> + “I walked along with the rest up the deserted road, imitating and keeping + pace, as far as I could, with their rapid and yet lady-like step, until at + length I saw a lamp-post and a policeman standing under it. I had made up + my mind. Until we reached them we were all equally demure and silent and + swift. When we reached them I suddenly flung myself against the railings + and roared out: 'Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! Rule Britannia! Get your 'air + cut. Hoop-la! Boo!' It was a condition of no little novelty for a man in + my position. + </p> + <p> + “The constable instantly flashed his lantern on me, or the draggled, + drunken old woman that was my travesty. 'Now then, mum,' he began gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “'Come along quiet, or I'll eat your heart,' cried Sam in my ear hoarsely. + 'Stop, or I'll flay you.' It was frightful to hear the words and see the + neatly shawled old spinster who whispered them. + </p> + <p> + “I yelled, and yelled—I was in for it now. I screamed comic refrains + that vulgar young men had sung, to my regret, at our village concerts; I + rolled to and fro like a ninepin about to fall. + </p> + <p> + “'If you can't get your friend on quiet, ladies,' said the policeman, 'I + shall have to take 'er up. Drunk and disorderly she is right enough.' + </p> + <p> + “I redoubled my efforts. I had not been brought up to this sort of thing; + but I believe I eclipsed myself. Words that I did not know I had ever + heard of seemed to come pouring out of my open mouth. + </p> + <p> + “'When we get you past,' whispered Bill, 'you'll howl louder; you'll howl + louder when we're burning your feet off.' + </p> + <p> + “I screamed in my terror those awful songs of joy. In all the nightmares + that men have ever dreamed, there has never been anything so blighting and + horrible as the faces of those five men, looking out of their + poke-bonnets; the figures of district visitors with the faces of devils. I + cannot think there is anything so heart-breaking in hell. + </p> + <p> + “For a sickening instant I thought that the bustle of my companions and + the perfect respectability of all our dresses would overcome the policeman + and induce him to let us pass. He wavered, so far as one can describe + anything so solid as a policeman as wavering. I lurched suddenly forward + and ran my head into his chest, calling out (if I remember correctly), + 'Oh, crikey, blimey, Bill.' It was at that moment that I remembered most + dearly that I was the Vicar of Chuntsey, in Essex. + </p> + <p> + “My desperate coup saved me. The policeman had me hard by the back of the + neck. + </p> + <p> + “'You come along with me,' he began, but Bill cut in with his perfect + imitation of a lady's finnicking voice. + </p> + <p> + “'Oh, pray, constable, don't make a disturbance with our poor friend. We + will get her quietly home. She does drink too much, but she is quite a + lady—only eccentric.' + </p> + <p> + “'She butted me in the stomach,' said the policeman briefly. + </p> + <p> + “'Eccentricities of genius,' said Sam earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “'Pray let me take her home,' reiterated Bill, in the resumed character of + Miss James, 'she wants looking after.' 'She does,' said the policeman, + 'but I'll look after her.' + </p> + <p> + “'That's no good,' cried Bill feverishly. 'She wants her friends. She + wants a particular medicine we've got.' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' assented Miss Mowbray, with excitement, 'no other medicine any + good, constable. Complaint quite unique.' + </p> + <p> + “'I'm all righ'. Cutchy, cutchy, coo!' remarked, to his eternal shame, the + Vicar of Chuntsey. + </p> + <p> + “'Look here, ladies,' said the constable sternly, 'I don't like the + eccentricity of your friend, and I don't like 'er songs, or 'er 'ead in my + stomach. And now I come to think of it, I don't like the looks of you, I've + seen many as quiet dressed as you as was wrong 'uns. Who are you?' + </p> + <p> + “'We've not our cards with us,' said Miss Mowbray, with indescribable + dignity. 'Nor do we see why we should be insulted by any Jack-in-office + who chooses to be rude to ladies, when he is paid to protect them. If you + choose to take advantage of the weakness of our unfortunate friend, no + doubt you are legally entitled to take her. But if you fancy you have any + legal right to bully us, you will find yourself in the wrong box.' + </p> + <p> + “The truth and dignity of this staggered the policeman for a moment. Under + cover of their advantage my five persecutors turned for an instant on me + faces like faces of the damned and then swished off into the darkness. + When the constable first turned his lantern and his suspicions on to them, + I had seen the telegraphic look flash from face to face saying that only + retreat was possible now. + </p> + <p> + “By this time I was sinking slowly to the pavement, in a state of acute + reflection. So long as the ruffians were with me, I dared not quit the + role of drunkard. For if I had begun to talk reasonably and explain the + real case, the officer would merely have thought that I was slightly + recovered and would have put me in charge of my friends. Now, however, if + I liked I might safely undeceive him. + </p> + <p> + “But I confess I did not like. The chances of life are many, and it may + doubtless sometimes lie in the narrow path of duty for a clergyman of the + Church of England to pretend to be a drunken old woman; but such + necessities are, I imagine, sufficiently rare to appear to many + improbable. Suppose the story got about that I had pretended to be drunk. + Suppose people did not all think it was pretence! + </p> + <p> + “I lurched up, the policeman half-lifting me. I went along weakly and + quietly for about a hundred yards. The officer evidently thought that I + was too sleepy and feeble to effect an escape, and so held me lightly and + easily enough. Past one turning, two turnings, three turnings, four + turnings, he trailed me with him, a limp and slow and reluctant figure. At + the fourth turning, I suddenly broke from his hand and tore down the + street like a maddened stag. He was unprepared, he was heavy, and it was + dark. I ran and ran and ran, and in five minutes' running, found I was + gaining. In half an hour I was out in the fields under the holy and + blessed stars, where I tore off my accursed shawl and bonnet and buried + them in clean earth.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman had finished his story and leant back in his chair. Both + the matter and the manner of his narration had, as time went on, impressed + me favourably. He was an old duffer and pedant, but behind these things he + was a country-bred man and gentleman, and had showed courage and a + sporting instinct in the hour of desperation. He had told his story with + many quaint formalities of diction, but also with a very convincing + realism. + </p> + <p> + “And now—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Shorter, leaning forward again with something like servile + energy, “and now, Mr Swinburne, what about that unhappy man Hawker. I + cannot tell what those men meant, or how far what they said was real. But + surely there is danger. I cannot go to the police, for reasons that you + perceive. Among other things, they wouldn't believe me. What is to be + done?” + </p> + <p> + I took out my watch. It was already half past twelve. + </p> + <p> + “My friend Basil Grant,” I said, “is the best man we can go to. He and I + were to have gone to the same dinner tonight; but he will just have come + back by now. Have you any objection to taking a cab?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” he replied, rising politely, and gathering up his absurd + plaid shawl. + </p> + <p> + A rattle in a hansom brought us underneath the sombre pile of workmen's + flats in Lambeth which Grant inhabited; a climb up a wearisome wooden + staircase brought us to his garret. When I entered that wooden and scrappy + interior, the white gleam of Basil's shirt-front and the lustre of his fur + coat flung on the wooden settle, struck me as a contrast. He was drinking + a glass of wine before retiring. I was right; he had come back from the + dinner-party. + </p> + <p> + He listened to the repetition of the story of the Rev. Ellis Shorter with + the genuine simplicity and respect which he never failed to exhibit in + dealing with any human being. When it was over he said simply: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know a man named Captain Fraser?” + </p> + <p> + I was so startled at this totally irrelevant reference to the worthy + collector of chimpanzees with whom I ought to have dined that evening, + that I glanced sharply at Grant. The result was that I did not look at Mr + Shorter. I only heard him answer, in his most nervous tone, “No.” + </p> + <p> + Basil, however, seemed to find something very curious about his answer or + his demeanour generally, for he kept his big blue eyes fixed on the old + clergyman, and though the eyes were quite quiet they stood out more and + more from his head. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite sure, Mr Shorter,” he repeated, “that you don't know + Captain Fraser?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite,” answered the vicar, and I was certainly puzzled to find him + returning so much to the timidity, not to say the demoralization, of his + tone when he first entered my presence. + </p> + <p> + Basil sprang smartly to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Then our course is clear,” he said. “You have not even begun your + investigation, my dear Mr Shorter; the first thing for us to do is to go + together to see Captain Fraser.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” asked the clergyman, stammering. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Basil, putting one arm in his fur coat. + </p> + <p> + The old clergyman rose to his feet, quaking all over. + </p> + <p> + “I really do not think that it is necessary,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Basil took his arm out of the fur coat, threw it over the chair again, and + put his hands in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he said, with emphasis. “Oh—you don't think it necessary; + then,” and he added the words with great clearness and deliberation, + “then, Mr Ellis Shorter, I can only say that I would like to see you + without your whiskers.” + </p> + <p> + And at these words I also rose to my feet, for the great tragedy of my + life had come. Splendid and exciting as life was in continual contact with + an intellect like Basil's, I had always the feeling that that splendour + and excitement were on the borderland of sanity. He lived perpetually near + the vision of the reason of things which makes men lose their reason. And + I felt of his insanity as men feel of the death of friends with heart + disease. It might come anywhere, in a field, in a hansom cab, looking at a + sunset, smoking a cigarette. It had come now. At the very moment of + delivering a judgement for the salvation of a fellow creature, Basil Grant + had gone mad. + </p> + <p> + “Your whiskers,” he cried, advancing with blazing eyes. “Give me your + whiskers. And your bald head.” + </p> + <p> + The old vicar naturally retreated a step or two. I stepped between. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Basil,” I implored, “you're a little excited. Finish your + wine.” + </p> + <p> + “Whiskers,” he answered sternly, “whiskers.” + </p> + <p> + And with that he made a dash at the old gentleman, who made a dash for the + door, but was intercepted. And then, before I knew where I was the quiet + room was turned into something between a pantomime and a pandemonium by + those two. Chairs were flung over with a crash, tables were vaulted with a + noise like thunder, screens were smashed, crockery scattered in + smithereens, and still Basil Grant bounded and bellowed after the Rev. + Ellis Shorter. + </p> + <p> + And now I began to perceive something else, which added the last + half-witted touch to my mystification. The Rev. Ellis Shorter, of + Chuntsey, in Essex, was by no means behaving as I had previously noticed + him to behave, or as, considering his age and station, I should have + expected him to behave. His power of dodging, leaping, and fighting would + have been amazing in a lad of seventeen, and in this doddering old vicar + looked like a sort of farcical fairy-tale. Moreover, he did not seem to be + so much astonished as I had thought. There was even a look of something + like enjoyment in his eyes; so there was in the eye of Basil. In fact, the + unintelligible truth must be told. They were both laughing. + </p> + <p> + At length Shorter was cornered. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Mr Grant,” he panted, “you can't do anything to me. It's + quite legal. And it doesn't do any one the least harm. It's only a social + fiction. A result of our complex society, Mr Grant.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't blame you, my man,” said Basil coolly. “But I want your whiskers. + And your bald head. Do they belong to Captain Fraser?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Mr Shorter, laughing, “we provide them ourselves. They + don't belong to Captain Fraser.” + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce does all this mean?” I almost screamed. “Are you all in an + infernal nightmare? Why should Mr Shorter's bald head belong to Captain + Fraser? How could it? What the deuce has Captain Fraser to do with the + affair? What is the matter with him? You dined with him, Basil.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Grant, “I didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you go to Mrs Thornton's dinner-party?” I asked, staring. “Why + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Basil, with a slow and singular smile, “the fact is I was + detained by a visitor. I have him, as a point of fact, in my bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + “In your bedroom?” I repeated; but my imagination had reached that point + when he might have said in his coal scuttle or his waistcoat pocket. + </p> + <p> + Grant stepped to the door of an inner room, flung it open and walked in. + Then he came out again with the last of the bodily wonders of that wild + night. He introduced into the sitting-room, in an apologetic manner, and + by the nape of the neck, a limp clergyman with a bald head, white whiskers + and a plaid shawl. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, gentlemen,” cried Grant, striking his hands heartily. “Sit down + all of you and have a glass of wine. As you say, there is no harm in it, + and if Captain Fraser had simply dropped me a hint I could have saved him + from dropping a good sum of money. Not that you would have liked that, + eh?” + </p> + <p> + The two duplicate clergymen, who were sipping their Burgundy with two + duplicate grins, laughed heartily at this, and one of them carelessly + pulled off his whiskers and laid them on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Basil,” I said, “if you are my friend, save me. What is all this?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “Only another addition, Cherub, to your collection of Queer Trades. These + two gentlemen (whose health I have now the pleasure of drinking) are + Professional Detainers.” + </p> + <p> + “And what on earth's that?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “It's really very simple, Mr Swinburne,” began he who had once been the + Rev. Ellis Shorter, of Chuntsey, in Essex; and it gave me a shock + indescribable to hear out of that pompous and familiar form come no longer + its own pompous and familiar voice, but the brisk sharp tones of a young + city man. “It is really nothing very important. We are paid by our clients + to detain in conversation, on some harmless pretext, people whom they want + out of the way for a few hours. And Captain Fraser—” and with that + he hesitated and smiled. + </p> + <p> + Basil smiled also. He intervened. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is that Captain Fraser, who is one of my best friends, wanted us + both out of the way very much. He is sailing tonight for East Africa, and + the lady with whom we were all to have dined is—er—what is I + believe described as 'the romance of his life'. He wanted that two hours + with her, and employed these two reverend gentlemen to detain us at our + houses so as to let him have the field to himself.” + </p> + <p> + “And of course,” said the late Mr Shorter apologetically to me, “as I had + to keep a gentleman at home from keeping an appointment with a lady, I had + to come with something rather hot and strong—rather urgent. It + wouldn't have done to be tame.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” I said, “I acquit you of tameness.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” said the man respectfully, “always very grateful for any + recommendation, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The other man idly pushed back his artificial bald head, revealing close + red hair, and spoke dreamily, perhaps under the influence of Basil's + admirable Burgundy. + </p> + <p> + “It's wonderful how common it's getting, gentlemen. Our office is busy + from morning till night. I've no doubt you've often knocked up against us + before. You just take notice. When an old bachelor goes on boring you with + hunting stories, when you're burning to be introduced to somebody, he's + from our bureau. When a lady calls on parish work and stops hours, just + when you wanted to go to the Robinsons', she's from our bureau. The + Robinson hand, sir, may be darkly seen.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing I don't understand,” I said. “Why you are both + vicars.” + </p> + <p> + A shade crossed the brow of the temporary incumbent of Chuntsey, in Essex. + </p> + <p> + “That may have been a mistake, sir,” he said. “But it was not our fault. + It was all the munificence of Captain Fraser. He requested that the + highest price and talent on our tariff should be employed to detain you + gentlemen. Now the highest payment in our office goes to those who + impersonate vicars, as being the most respectable and more of a strain. We + are paid five guineas a visit. We have had the good fortune to satisfy the + firm with our work; and we are now permanently vicars. Before that we had + two years as colonels, the next in our scale. Colonels are four guineas.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 4. The Singular Speculation of the House-Agent + </h2> + <p> + Lieutenant Drummond Keith was a man about whom conversation always burst + like a thunderstorm the moment he left the room. This arose from many + separate touches about him. He was a light, loose person, who wore light, + loose clothes, generally white, as if he were in the tropics; he was lean + and graceful, like a panther, and he had restless black eyes. + </p> + <p> + He was very impecunious. He had one of the habits of the poor, in a degree + so exaggerated as immeasurably to eclipse the most miserable of the + unemployed; I mean the habit of continual change of lodgings. There are + inland tracts of London where, in the very heart of artificial + civilization, humanity has almost become nomadic once more. But in that + restless interior there was no ragged tramp so restless as the elegant + officer in the loose white clothes. He had shot a great many things in his + time, to judge from his conversation, from partridges to elephants, but + his slangier acquaintances were of opinion that “the moon” had been not + unfrequently amid the victims of his victorious rifle. The phrase is a + fine one, and suggests a mystic, elvish, nocturnal hunting. + </p> + <p> + He carried from house to house and from parish to parish a kit which + consisted practically of five articles. Two odd-looking, large-bladed + spears, tied together, the weapons, I suppose, of some savage tribe, a + green umbrella, a huge and tattered copy of the Pickwick Papers, a big + game rifle, and a large sealed jar of some unholy Oriental wine. These + always went into every new lodging, even for one night; and they went in + quite undisguised, tied up in wisps of string or straw, to the delight of + the poetic gutter boys in the little grey streets. + </p> + <p> + I had forgotten to mention that he always carried also his old regimental + sword. But this raised another odd question about him. Slim and active as + he was, he was no longer very young. His hair, indeed, was quite grey, + though his rather wild almost Italian moustache retained its blackness, + and his face was careworn under its almost Italian gaiety. To find a + middle-aged man who has left the Army at the primitive rank of lieutenant + is unusual and not necessarily encouraging. With the more cautious and + solid this fact, like his endless flitting, did the mysterious gentleman + no good. + </p> + <p> + Lastly, he was a man who told the kind of adventures which win a man + admiration, but not respect. They came out of queer places, where a good + man would scarcely find himself, out of opium dens and gambling hells; + they had the heat of the thieves' kitchens or smelled of a strange smoke + from cannibal incantations. These are the kind of stories which discredit + a person almost equally whether they are believed or no. If Keith's tales + were false he was a liar; if they were true he had had, at any rate, every + opportunity of being a scamp. + </p> + <p> + He had just left the room in which I sat with Basil Grant and his brother + Rupert, the voluble amateur detective. And as I say was invariably the + case, we were all talking about him. Rupert Grant was a clever young + fellow, but he had that tendency which youth and cleverness, when sharply + combined, so often produce, a somewhat extravagant scepticism. He saw + doubt and guilt everywhere, and it was meat and drink to him. I had often + got irritated with this boyish incredulity of his, but on this particular + occasion I am bound to say that I thought him so obviously right that I + was astounded at Basil's opposing him, however banteringly. + </p> + <p> + I could swallow a good deal, being naturally of a simple turn, but I could + not swallow Lieutenant Keith's autobiography. + </p> + <p> + “You don't seriously mean, Basil,” I said, “that you think that that + fellow really did go as a stowaway with Nansen and pretend to be the Mad + Mullah and—” + </p> + <p> + “He has one fault,” said Basil thoughtfully, “or virtue, as you may happen + to regard it. He tells the truth in too exact and bald a style; he is too + veracious.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if you are going to be paradoxical,” said Rupert contemptuously, “be + a bit funnier than that. Say, for instance, that he has lived all his life + in one ancestral manor.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he's extremely fond of change of scene,” replied Basil + dispassionately, “and of living in odd places. That doesn't prevent his + chief trait being verbal exactitude. What you people don't understand is + that telling a thing crudely and coarsely as it happened makes it sound + frightfully strange. The sort of things Keith recounts are not the sort of + things that a man would make up to cover himself with honour; they are too + absurd. But they are the sort of things that a man would do if he were + sufficiently filled with the soul of skylarking.” + </p> + <p> + “So far from paradox,” said his brother, with something rather like a + sneer, “you seem to be going in for journalese proverbs. Do you believe + that truth is stranger than fiction?” + </p> + <p> + “Truth must of necessity be stranger than fiction,” said Basil placidly. + “For fiction is the creation of the human mind, and therefore is congenial + to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, your lieutenant's truth is stranger, if it is truth, than anything + I ever heard of,” said Rupert, relapsing into flippancy. “Do you, on your + soul, believe in all that about the shark and the camera?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe Keith's words,” answered the other. “He is an honest man.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to question a regiment of his landladies,” said Rupert + cynically. + </p> + <p> + “I must say, I think you can hardly regard him as unimpeachable merely in + himself,” I said mildly; “his mode of life—” + </p> + <p> + Before I could complete the sentence the door was flung open and Drummond + Keith appeared again on the threshold, his white Panama on his head. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Grant,” he said, knocking off his cigarette ash against the door, + “I've got no money in the world till next April. Could you lend me a + hundred pounds? There's a good chap.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert and I looked at each other in an ironical silence. Basil, who was + sitting by his desk, swung the chair round idly on its screw and picked up + a quill-pen. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I cross it?” he asked, opening a cheque-book. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” began Rupert, with a rather nervous loudness, “since Lieutenant + Keith has seen fit to make this suggestion to Basil before his family, I—” + </p> + <p> + “Here you are, Ugly,” said Basil, fluttering a cheque in the direction of + the quite nonchalant officer. “Are you in a hurry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Keith, in a rather abrupt way. “As a matter of fact I want + it now. I want to see my—er—business man.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert was eyeing him sarcastically, and I could see that it was on the + tip of his tongue to say, inquiringly, “Receiver of stolen goods, + perhaps.” What he did say was: + </p> + <p> + “A business man? That's rather a general description, Lieutenant Keith.” + </p> + <p> + Keith looked at him sharply, and then said, with something rather like + ill-temper: + </p> + <p> + “He's a thingum-my-bob, a house-agent, say. I'm going to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you're going to see a house-agent, are you?” said Rupert Grant + grimly. “Do you know, Mr Keith, I think I should very much like to go with + you?” + </p> + <p> + Basil shook with his soundless laughter. Lieutenant Keith started a + little; his brow blackened sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he said. “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + Rupert's face had been growing from stage to stage of ferocious irony, and + he answered: + </p> + <p> + “I was saying that I wondered whether you would mind our strolling along + with you to this house-agent's.” + </p> + <p> + The visitor swung his stick with a sudden whirling violence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, in God's name, come to my house-agent's! Come to my bedroom. Look + under my bed. Examine my dust-bin. Come along!” And with a furious energy + which took away our breath he banged his way out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Rupert Grant, his restless blue eyes dancing with his detective + excitement, soon shouldered alongside him, talking to him with that + transparent camaraderie which he imagined to be appropriate from the + disguised policeman to the disguised criminal. His interpretation was + certainly corroborated by one particular detail, the unmistakable unrest, + annoyance, and nervousness of the man with whom he walked. Basil and I + tramped behind, and it was not necessary for us to tell each other that we + had both noticed this. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Drummond Keith led us through very extraordinary and + unpromising neighbourhoods in the search for his remarkable house-agent. + Neither of the brothers Grant failed to notice this fact. As the streets + grew closer and more crooked and the roofs lower and the gutters grosser + with mud, a darker curiosity deepened on the brows of Basil, and the + figure of Rupert seen from behind seemed to fill the street with a + gigantic swagger of success. At length, at the end of the fourth or fifth + lean grey street in that sterile district, we came suddenly to a halt, the + mysterious lieutenant looking once more about him with a sort of sulky + desperation. Above a row of shutters and a door, all indescribably dingy + in appearance and in size scarce sufficient even for a penny toyshop, ran + the inscription: “P. Montmorency, House-Agent.” + </p> + <p> + “This is the office of which I spoke,” said Keith, in a cutting voice. + “Will you wait here a moment, or does your astonishing tenderness about my + welfare lead you to wish to overhear everything I have to say to my + business adviser?” + </p> + <p> + Rupert's face was white and shaking with excitement; nothing on earth + would have induced him now to have abandoned his prey. + </p> + <p> + “If you will excuse me,” he said, clenching his hands behind his back, “I + think I should feel myself justified in—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Come along in,” exploded the lieutenant. He made the same gesture of + savage surrender. And he slammed into the office, the rest of us at his + heels. + </p> + <p> + P. Montmorency, House-Agent, was a solitary old gentleman sitting behind a + bare brown counter. He had an egglike head, froglike jaws, and a grey + hairy fringe of aureole round the lower part of his face; the whole + combined with a reddish, aquiline nose. He wore a shabby black frock-coat, + a sort of semi-clerical tie worn at a very unclerical angle, and looked, + generally speaking, about as unlike a house-agent as anything could look, + short of something like a sandwich man or a Scotch Highlander. + </p> + <p> + We stood inside the room for fully forty seconds, and the odd old + gentleman did not look at us. Neither, to tell the truth, odd as he was, + did we look at him. Our eyes were fixed, where his were fixed, upon + something that was crawling about on the counter in front of him. It was a + ferret. + </p> + <p> + The silence was broken by Rupert Grant. He spoke in that sweet and steely + voice which he reserved for great occasions and practised for hours + together in his bedroom. He said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr Montmorency, I think?” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman started, lifted his eyes with a bland bewilderment, + picked up the ferret by the neck, stuffed it alive into his trousers + pocket, smiled apologetically, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a house-agent, are you not?” asked Rupert. + </p> + <p> + To the delight of that criminal investigator, Mr Montmorency's eyes + wandered unquietly towards Lieutenant Keith, the only man present that he + knew. + </p> + <p> + “A house-agent,” cried Rupert again, bringing out the word as if it were + “burglar”. + </p> + <p> + “Yes... oh, yes,” said the man, with a quavering and almost coquettish + smile. “I am a house-agent... oh, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think,” said Rupert, with a sardonic sleekness, “that Lieutenant + Keith wants to speak to you. We have come in by his request.” + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant Keith was lowering gloomily, and now he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I have come, Mr Montmorency, about that house of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Montmorency, spreading his fingers on the flat counter. + “It's all ready, sir. I've attended to all your suggestions er—about + the br—” + </p> + <p> + “Right,” cried Keith, cutting the word short with the startling neatness + of a gunshot. “We needn't bother about all that. If you've done what I + told you, all right.” + </p> + <p> + And he turned sharply towards the door. + </p> + <p> + Mr Montmorency, House-Agent, presented a picture of pathos. After + stammering a moment he said: “Excuse me... Mr Keith... there was another + matter... about which I wasn't quite sure. I tried to get all the heating + apparatus possible under the circumstances ... but in winter... at that + elevation...” + </p> + <p> + “Can't expect much, eh?” said the lieutenant, cutting in with the same + sudden skill. “No, of course not. That's all right, Montmorency. There + can't be any more difficulties,” and he put his hand on the handle of the + door. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Rupert Grant, with a satanic suavity, “that Mr Montmorency + has something further to say to you, lieutenant.” + </p> + <p> + “Only,” said the house-agent, in desperation, “what about the birds?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Rupert, in a general blank. + </p> + <p> + “What about the birds?” said the house-agent doggedly. + </p> + <p> + Basil, who had remained throughout the proceedings in a state of + Napoleonic calm, which might be more accurately described as a state of + Napoleonic stupidity, suddenly lifted his leonine head. + </p> + <p> + “Before you go, Lieutenant Keith,” he said. “Come now. Really, what about + the birds?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take care of them,” said Lieutenant Keith, still with his long back + turned to us; “they shan't suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir, thank you,” cried the incomprehensible house-agent, with + an air of ecstasy. “You'll excuse my concern, sir. You know I'm wild on + wild animals. I'm as wild as any of them on that. Thank you, sir. But + there's another thing...” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant, with his back turned to us, exploded with an indescribable + laugh and swung round to face us. It was a laugh, the purport of which was + direct and essential, and yet which one cannot exactly express. As near as + it said anything, verbally speaking, it said: “Well, if you must spoil it, + you must. But you don't know what you're spoiling.” + </p> + <p> + “There is another thing,” continued Mr Montmorency weakly. “Of course, if + you don't want to be visited you'll paint the house green, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Green!” shouted Keith. “Green! Let it be green or nothing. I won't have a + house of another colour. Green!” and before we could realize anything the + door had banged between us and the street. + </p> + <p> + Rupert Grant seemed to take a little time to collect himself; but he spoke + before the echoes of the door died away. + </p> + <p> + “Your client, Lieutenant Keith, appears somewhat excited,” he said. “What + is the matter with him? Is he unwell?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I should think not,” said Mr Montmorency, in some confusion. “The + negotiations have been somewhat difficult—the house is rather—” + </p> + <p> + “Green,” said Rupert calmly. “That appears to be a very important point. + It must be rather green. May I ask you, Mr Montmorency, before I rejoin my + companion outside, whether, in your business, it is usual to ask for + houses by their colour? Do clients write to a house-agent asking for a + pink house or a blue house? Or, to take another instance, for a green + house?” + </p> + <p> + “Only,” said Montmorency, trembling, “only to be inconspicuous.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert had his ruthless smile. “Can you tell me any place on earth in + which a green house would be inconspicuous?” + </p> + <p> + The house-agent was fidgeting nervously in his pocket. Slowly drawing out + a couple of lizards and leaving them to run on the counter, he said: + </p> + <p> + “No; I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't suggest an explanation?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mr Montmorency, rising slowly and yet in such a way as to + suggest a sudden situation, “I can't. And may I, as a busy man, be excused + if I ask you, gentlemen, if you have any demand to make of me in + connection with my business. What kind of house would you desire me to get + for you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + He opened his blank blue eyes on Rupert, who seemed for the second + staggered. Then he recovered himself with perfect common sense and + answered: + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, Mr Montmorency. The fascination of your remarks has unduly + delayed us from joining our friend outside. Pray excuse my apparent + impertinence.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, sir,” said the house-agent, taking a South American spider + idly from his waistcoat pocket and letting it climb up the slope of his + desk. “Not at all, sir. I hope you will favour me again.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert Grant dashed out of the office in a gust of anger, anxious to face + Lieutenant Keith. He was gone. The dull, starlit street was deserted. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say now?” cried Rupert to his brother. His brother said + nothing now. + </p> + <p> + We all three strode down the street in silence, Rupert feverish, myself + dazed, Basil, to all appearance, merely dull. We walked through grey + street after grey street, turning corners, traversing squares, scarcely + meeting anyone, except occasional drunken knots of two or three. + </p> + <p> + In one small street, however, the knots of two or three began abruptly to + thicken into knots of five or six and then into great groups and then into + a crowd. The crowd was stirring very slightly. But anyone with a knowledge + of the eternal populace knows that if the outside rim of a crowd stirs + ever so slightly it means that there is madness in the heart and core of + the mob. It soon became evident that something really important had + happened in the centre of this excitement. We wormed our way to the front, + with the cunning which is known only to cockneys, and once there we soon + learned the nature of the difficulty. There had been a brawl concerned + with some six men, and one of them lay almost dead on the stones of the + street. Of the other four, all interesting matters were, as far as we were + concerned, swallowed up in one stupendous fact. One of the four survivors + of the brutal and perhaps fatal scuffle was the immaculate Lieutenant + Keith, his clothes torn to ribbons, his eyes blazing, blood on his + knuckles. One other thing, however, pointed at him in a worse manner. A + short sword, or very long knife, had been drawn out of his elegant + walking-stick, and lay in front of him upon the stones. It did not, + however, appear to be bloody. + </p> + <p> + The police had already pushed into the centre with their ponderous + omnipotence, and even as they did so, Rupert Grant sprang forward with his + incontrollable and intolerable secret. + </p> + <p> + “That is the man, constable,” he shouted, pointing at the battered + lieutenant. “He is a suspicious character. He did the murder.” + </p> + <p> + “There's been no murder done, sir,” said the policeman, with his automatic + civility. “The poor man's only hurt. I shall only be able to take the + names and addresses of the men in the scuffle and have a good eye kept on + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Have a good eye kept on that one,” said Rupert, pale to the lips, and + pointing to the ragged Keith. + </p> + <p> + “All right, sir,” said the policeman unemotionally, and went the round of + the people present, collecting the addresses. When he had completed his + task the dusk had fallen and most of the people not immediately connected + with the examination had gone away. He still found, however, one + eager-faced stranger lingering on the outskirts of the affair. It was + Rupert Grant. + </p> + <p> + “Constable,” he said, “I have a very particular reason for asking you a + question. Would you mind telling me whether that military fellow who + dropped his sword-stick in the row gave you an address or not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the policeman, after a reflective pause; “yes, he gave me + his address.” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Rupert Grant,” said that individual, with some pomp. “I have + assisted the police on more than one occasion. I wonder whether you would + tell me, as a special favour, what address?” + </p> + <p> + The constable looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said slowly, “if you like. His address is: The Elms, Buxton + Common, near Purley, Surrey.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Rupert, and ran home through the gathering night as fast + as his legs could carry him, repeating the address to himself. + </p> + <p> + Rupert Grant generally came down late in a rather lordly way to breakfast; + he contrived, I don't know how, to achieve always the attitude of the + indulged younger brother. Next morning, however, when Basil and I came + down we found him ready and restless. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said sharply to his brother almost before we sat down to the + meal. “What do you think of your Drummond Keith now?” + </p> + <p> + “What do I think of him?” inquired Basil slowly. “I don't think anything + of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to hear it,” said Rupert, buttering his toast with an energy + that was somewhat exultant. “I thought you'd come round to my view, but I + own I was startled at your not seeing it from the beginning. The man is a + translucent liar and knave.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Basil, in the same heavy monotone as before, “that I did + not make myself clear. When I said that I thought nothing of him I meant + grammatically what I said. I meant that I did not think about him; that he + did not occupy my mind. You, however, seem to me to think a lot of him, + since you think him a knave. I should say he was glaringly good myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I sometimes think you talk paradox for its own sake,” said Rupert, + breaking an egg with unnecessary sharpness. “What the deuce is the sense + of it? Here's a man whose original position was, by our common agreement, + dubious. He's a wanderer, a teller of tall tales, a man who doesn't + conceal his acquaintance with all the blackest and bloodiest scenes on + earth. We take the trouble to follow him to one of his appointments, and + if ever two human beings were plotting together and lying to every one + else, he and that impossible house-agent were doing it. We followed him + home, and the very same night he is in the thick of a fatal, or nearly + fatal, brawl, in which he is the only man armed. Really, if this is being + glaringly good, I must confess that the glare does not dazzle me.” + </p> + <p> + Basil was quite unmoved. “I admit his moral goodness is of a certain kind, + a quaint, perhaps a casual kind. He is very fond of change and experiment. + But all the points you so ingeniously make against him are mere + coincidence or special pleading. It's true he didn't want to talk about + his house business in front of us. No man would. It's true that he carries + a sword-stick. Any man might. It's true he drew it in the shock of a + street fight. Any man would. But there's nothing really dubious in all + this. There's nothing to confirm—” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke a knock came at the door. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir,” said the landlady, with an alarmed air, “there's a + policeman wants to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Show him in,” said Basil, amid the blank silence. + </p> + <p> + The heavy, handsome constable who appeared at the door spoke almost as + soon as he appeared there. + </p> + <p> + “I think one of you gentlemen,” he said, curtly but respectfully, “was + present at the affair in Copper Street last night, and drew my attention + very strongly to a particular man.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert half rose from his chair, with eyes like diamonds, but the + constable went on calmly, referring to a paper. + </p> + <p> + “A young man with grey hair. Had light grey clothes, very good, but torn + in the struggle. Gave his name as Drummond Keith.” + </p> + <p> + “This is amusing,” said Basil, laughing. “I was in the very act of + clearing that poor officer's character of rather fanciful aspersions. What + about him?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said the constable, “I took all the men's addresses and had + them all watched. It wasn't serious enough to do more than that. All the + other addresses are all right. But this man Keith gave a false address. + The place doesn't exist.” + </p> + <p> + The breakfast table was nearly flung over as Rupert sprang up, slapping + both his thighs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, by all that's good,” he cried. “This is a sign from heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “It's certainly very extraordinary,” said Basil quietly, with knitted + brows. “It's odd the fellow should have given a false address, considering + he was perfectly innocent in the—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you jolly old early Christian duffer,” cried Rupert, in a sort of + rapture, “I don't wonder you couldn't be a judge. You think every one as + good as yourself. Isn't the thing plain enough now? A doubtful + acquaintance; rowdy stories, a most suspicious conversation, mean streets, + a concealed knife, a man nearly killed, and, finally, a false address. + That's what we call glaring goodness.” + </p> + <p> + “It's certainly very extraordinary,” repeated Basil. And he strolled + moodily about the room. Then he said: “You are quite sure, constable, that + there's no mistake? You got the address right, and the police have really + gone to it and found it was a fraud?” + </p> + <p> + “It was very simple, sir,” said the policeman, chuckling. “The place he + named was a well-known common quite near London, and our people were down + there this morning before any of you were awake. And there's no such + house. In fact, there are hardly any houses at all. Though it is so near + London, it's a blank moor with hardly five trees on it, to say nothing of + Christians. Oh, no, sir, the address was a fraud right enough. He was a + clever rascal, and chose one of those scraps of lost England that people + know nothing about. Nobody could say off-hand that there was not a + particular house dropped somewhere about the heath. But as a fact, there + isn't.” + </p> + <p> + Basil's face during this sensible speech had been growing darker and + darker with a sort of desperate sagacity. He was cornered almost for the + first time since I had known him; and to tell the truth I rather wondered + at the almost childish obstinacy which kept him so close to his original + prejudice in favour of the wildly questionable lieutenant. At length he + said: + </p> + <p> + “You really searched the common? And the address was really not known in + the district—by the way, what was the address?” + </p> + <p> + The constable selected one of his slips of paper and consulted it, but + before he could speak Rupert Grant, who was leaning in the window in a + perfect posture of the quiet and triumphant detective, struck in with the + sharp and suave voice he loved so much to use. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I can tell you that, Basil,” he said graciously as he idly plucked + leaves from a plant in the window. “I took the precaution to get this + man's address from the constable last night.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was it?” asked his brother gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “The constable will correct me if I am wrong,” said Rupert, looking + sweetly at the ceiling. “It was: The Elms, Buxton Common, near Purley, + Surrey.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, sir,” said the policeman, laughing and folding up his papers. + </p> + <p> + There was a silence, and the blue eyes of Basil looked blindly for a few + seconds into the void. Then his head fell back in his chair so suddenly + that I started up, thinking him ill. But before I could move further his + lips had flown apart (I can use no other phrase) and a peal of gigantic + laughter struck and shook the ceiling—laughter that shook the + laughter, laughter redoubled, laughter incurable, laughter that could not + stop. + </p> + <p> + Two whole minutes afterwards it was still unended; Basil was ill with + laughter; but still he laughed. The rest of us were by this time ill + almost with terror. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” said the insane creature, getting at last to his feet. “I am + awfully sorry. It is horribly rude. And stupid, too. And also unpractical, + because we have not much time to lose if we're to get down to that place. + The train service is confoundedly bad, as I happen to know. It's quite out + of proportion to the comparatively small distance.” + </p> + <p> + “Get down to that place?” I repeated blankly. “Get down to what place?” + </p> + <p> + “I have forgotten its name,” said Basil vaguely, putting his hands in his + pockets as he rose. “Something Common near Purley. Has any one got a + timetable?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't seriously mean,” cried Rupert, who had been staring in a sort + of confusion of emotions. “You don't mean that you want to go to Buxton + Common, do you? You can't mean that!” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't I go to Buxton Common?” asked Basil, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you?” said his brother, catching hold again restlessly of the + plant in the window and staring at the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “To find our friend, the lieutenant, of course,” said Basil Grant. “I + thought you wanted to find him?” + </p> + <p> + Rupert broke a branch brutally from the plant and flung it impatiently on + the floor. “And in order to find him,” he said, “you suggest the admirable + expedient of going to the only place on the habitable earth where we know + he can't be.” + </p> + <p> + The constable and I could not avoid breaking into a kind of assenting + laugh, and Rupert, who had family eloquence, was encouraged to go on with + a reiterated gesture: + </p> + <p> + “He may be in Buckingham Palace; he may be sitting astride the cross of St + Paul's; he may be in jail (which I think most likely); he may be in the + Great Wheel; he may be in my pantry; he may be in your store cupboard; but + out of all the innumerable points of space, there is only one where he has + just been systematically looked for and where we know that he is not to be + found—and that, if I understand you rightly, is where you want us to + go.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Basil calmly, getting into his great-coat; “I thought you + might care to accompany me. If not, of course, make yourselves jolly here + till I come back.” + </p> + <p> + It is our nature always to follow vanishing things and value them if they + really show a resolution to depart. We all followed Basil, and I cannot + say why, except that he was a vanishing thing, that he vanished decisively + with his great-coat and his stick. Rupert ran after him with a + considerable flurry of rationality. + </p> + <p> + “My dear chap,” he cried, “do you really mean that you see any good in + going down to this ridiculous scrub, where there is nothing but beaten + tracks and a few twisted trees, simply because it was the first place that + came into a rowdy lieutenant's head when he wanted to give a lying + reference in a scrape?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Basil, taking out his watch, “and, what's worse, we've lost + the train.” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment and then added: “As a matter of fact, I think we may + just as well go down later in the day. I have some writing to do, and I + think you told me, Rupert, that you thought of going to the Dulwich + Gallery. I was rather too impetuous. Very likely he wouldn't be in. But if + we get down by the 5.15, which gets to Purley about 6, I expect we shall + just catch him.” + </p> + <p> + “Catch him!” cried his brother, in a kind of final anger. “I wish we + could. Where the deuce shall we catch him now?” + </p> + <p> + “I keep forgetting the name of the common,” said Basil, as he buttoned up + his coat. “The Elms—what is it? Buxton Common, near Purley. That's + where we shall find him.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is no such place,” groaned Rupert; but he followed his brother + downstairs. + </p> + <p> + We all followed him. We snatched our hats from the hat-stand and our + sticks from the umbrella-stand; and why we followed him we did not and do + not know. But we always followed him, whatever was the meaning of the + fact, whatever was the nature of his mastery. And the strange thing was + that we followed him the more completely the more nonsensical appeared the + thing which he said. At bottom, I believe, if he had risen from our + breakfast table and said: “I am going to find the Holy Pig with Ten + Tails,” we should have followed him to the end of the world. + </p> + <p> + I don't know whether this mystical feeling of mine about Basil on this + occasion has got any of the dark and cloudy colour, so to speak, of the + strange journey that we made the same evening. It was already very dense + twilight when we struck southward from Purley. Suburbs and things on the + London border may be, in most cases, commonplace and comfortable. But if + ever by any chance they really are empty solitudes they are to the human + spirit more desolate and dehumanized than any Yorkshire moors or Highland + hills, because the suddenness with which the traveller drops into that + silence has something about it as of evil elf-land. It seems to be one of + the ragged suburbs of the cosmos half-forgotten by God—such a place + was Buxton Common, near Purley. + </p> + <p> + There was certainly a sort of grey futility in the landscape itself. But + it was enormously increased by the sense of grey futility in our + expedition. The tracts of grey turf looked useless, the occasional + wind-stricken trees looked useless, but we, the human beings, more useless + than the hopeless turf or the idle trees. We were maniacs akin to the + foolish landscape, for we were come to chase the wild goose which has led + men and left men in bogs from the beginning. We were three dazed men under + the captaincy of a madman going to look for a man whom we knew was not + there in a house that had no existence. A livid sunset seemed to look at + us with a sort of sickly smile before it died. + </p> + <p> + Basil went on in front with his coat collar turned up, looking in the + gloom rather like a grotesque Napoleon. We crossed swell after swell of + the windy common in increasing darkness and entire silence. Suddenly Basil + stopped and turned to us, his hands in his pockets. Through the dusk I + could just detect that he wore a broad grin as of comfortable success. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he cried, taking his heavily gloved hands out of his pockets and + slapping them together, “here we are at last.” + </p> + <p> + The wind swirled sadly over the homeless heath; two desolate elms rocked + above us in the sky like shapeless clouds of grey. There was not a sign of + man or beast to the sullen circle of the horizon, and in the midst of that + wilderness Basil Grant stood rubbing his hands with the air of an + innkeeper standing at an open door. + </p> + <p> + “How jolly it is,” he cried, “to get back to civilization. That notion + that civilization isn't poetical is a civilised delusion. Wait till you've + really lost yourself in nature, among the devilish woodlands and the cruel + flowers. Then you'll know that there's no star like the red star of man + that he lights on his hearthstone; no river like the red river of man, the + good red wine, which you, Mr Rupert Grant, if I have any knowledge of you, + will be drinking in two or three minutes in enormous quantities.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert and I exchanged glances of fear. Basil went on heartily, as the + wind died in the dreary trees. + </p> + <p> + “You'll find our host a much more simple kind of fellow in his own house. + I did when I visited him when he lived in the cabin at Yarmouth, and again + in the loft at the city warehouse. He's really a very good fellow. But his + greatest virtue remains what I said originally.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” I asked, finding his speech straying towards a sort of + sanity. “What is his greatest virtue?” + </p> + <p> + “His greatest virtue,” replied Basil, “is that he always tells the literal + truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, really,” cried Rupert, stamping about between cold and anger, and + slapping himself like a cabman, “he doesn't seem to have been very literal + or truthful in this case, nor you either. Why the deuce, may I ask, have + you brought us out to this infernal place?” + </p> + <p> + “He was too truthful, I confess,” said Basil, leaning against the tree; + “too hardly veracious, too severely accurate. He should have indulged in a + little more suggestiveness and legitimate romance. But come, it's time we + went in. We shall be late for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert whispered to me with a white face: + </p> + <p> + “Is it a hallucination, do you think? Does he really fancy he sees a + house?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” I said. Then I added aloud, in what was meant to be a + cheery and sensible voice, but which sounded in my ears almost as strange + as the wind: + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Basil, my dear fellow. Where do you want us to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, up here,” cried Basil, and with a bound and a swing he was above our + heads, swarming up the grey column of the colossal tree. + </p> + <p> + “Come up, all of you,” he shouted out of the darkness, with the voice of a + schoolboy. “Come up. You'll be late for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + The two great elms stood so close together that there was scarcely a yard + anywhere, and in some places not more than a foot, between them. Thus + occasional branches and even bosses and boles formed a series of footholds + that almost amounted to a rude natural ladder. They must, I supposed, have + been some sport of growth, Siamese twins of vegetation. + </p> + <p> + Why we did it I cannot think; perhaps, as I have said, the mystery of the + waste and dark had brought out and made primary something wholly mystical + in Basil's supremacy. But we only felt that there was a giant's staircase + going somewhere, perhaps to the stars; and the victorious voice above + called to us out of heaven. We hoisted ourselves up after him. + </p> + <p> + Half-way up some cold tongue of the night air struck and sobered me + suddenly. The hypnotism of the madman above fell from me, and I saw the + whole map of our silly actions as clearly as if it were printed. I saw + three modern men in black coats who had begun with a perfectly sensible + suspicion of a doubtful adventurer and who had ended, God knows how, + half-way up a naked tree on a naked moorland, far from that adventurer and + all his works, that adventurer who was at that moment, in all probability, + laughing at us in some dirty Soho restaurant. He had plenty to laugh at us + about, and no doubt he was laughing his loudest; but when I thought what + his laughter would be if he knew where we were at that moment, I nearly + let go of the tree and fell. + </p> + <p> + “Swinburne,” said Rupert suddenly, from above, “what are we doing? Let's + get down again,” and by the mere sound of his voice I knew that he too + felt the shock of wakening to reality. + </p> + <p> + “We can't leave poor Basil,” I said. “Can't you call to him or get hold of + him by the leg?” + </p> + <p> + “He's too far ahead,” answered Rupert; “he's nearly at the top of the + beastly thing. Looking for Lieutenant Keith in the rooks' nests, I + suppose.” + </p> + <p> + We were ourselves by this time far on our frantic vertical journey. The + mighty trunks were beginning to sway and shake slightly in the wind. Then + I looked down and saw something which made me feel that we were far from + the world in a sense and to a degree that I cannot easily describe. I saw + that the almost straight lines of the tall elm trees diminished a little + in perspective as they fell. I was used to seeing parallel lines taper + towards the sky. But to see them taper towards the earth made me feel lost + in space, like a falling star. + </p> + <p> + “Can nothing be done to stop Basil?” I called out. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered my fellow climber. “He's too far up. He must get to the + top, and when he finds nothing but wind and leaves he may go sane again. + Hark at him above there; you can just hear him talking to himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he's talking to us,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Rupert, “he'd shout if he was. I've never known him to talk to + himself before; I'm afraid he really is bad tonight; it's a known sign of + the brain going.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said sadly, and listened. Basil's voice certainly was sounding + above us, and not by any means in the rich and riotous tones in which he + had hailed us before. He was speaking quietly, and laughing every now and + then, up there among the leaves and stars. + </p> + <p> + After a silence mingled with this murmur, Rupert Grant suddenly said, “My + God!” with a violent voice. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter—are you hurt?” I cried, alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “No. Listen to Basil,” said the other in a very strange voice. “He's not + talking to himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is talking to us,” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Rupert simply, “he's talking to somebody else.” + </p> + <p> + Great branches of the elm loaded with leaves swung about us in a sudden + burst of wind, but when it died down I could still hear the conversational + voice above. I could hear two voices. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly from aloft came Basil's boisterous hailing voice as before: “Come + up, you fellows. Here's Lieutenant Keith.” + </p> + <p> + And a second afterwards came the half-American voice we had heard in our + chambers more than once. It called out: + </p> + <p> + “Happy to see you, gentlemen; pray come in.” + </p> + <p> + Out of a hole in an enormous dark egg-shaped thing, pendent in the + branches like a wasps' nest, was protruding the pale face and fierce + moustache of the lieutenant, his teeth shining with that slightly Southern + air that belonged to him. + </p> + <p> + Somehow or other, stunned and speechless, we lifted ourselves heavily into + the opening. We fell into the full glow of a lamp-lit, cushioned, tiny + room, with a circular wall lined with books, a circular table, and a + circular seat around it. At this table sat three people. One was Basil, + who, in the instant after alighting there, had fallen into an attitude of + marmoreal ease as if he had been there from boyhood; he was smoking a + cigar with a slow pleasure. The second was Lieutenant Drummond Keith, who + looked happy also, but feverish and doubtful compared with his granite + guest. The third was the little bald-headed house-agent with the wild + whiskers, who called himself Montmorency. The spears, the green umbrella, + and the cavalry sword hung in parallels on the wall. The sealed jar of + strange wine was on the mantelpiece, the enormous rifle in the corner. In + the middle of the table was a magnum of champagne. Glasses were already + set for us. + </p> + <p> + The wind of the night roared far below us, like an ocean at the foot of a + light-house. The room stirred slightly, as a cabin might in a mild sea. + </p> + <p> + Our glasses were filled, and we still sat there dazed and dumb. Then Basil + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “You seem still a little doubtful, Rupert. Surely there is no further + question about the cold veracity of our injured host.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't quite grasp it all,” said Rupert, blinking still in the sudden + glare. “Lieutenant Keith said his address was—” + </p> + <p> + “It's really quite right, sir,” said Keith, with an open smile. “The bobby + asked me where I lived. And I said, quite truthfully, that I lived in the + elms on Buxton Common, near Purley. So I do. This gentleman, Mr + Montmorency, whom I think you have met before, is an agent for houses of + this kind. He has a special line in arboreal villas. It's being kept + rather quiet at present, because the people who want these houses don't + want them to get too common. But it's just the sort of thing a fellow like + myself, racketing about in all sorts of queer corners of London, naturally + knocks up against.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you really an agent for arboreal villas?” asked Rupert eagerly, + recovering his ease with the romance of reality. + </p> + <p> + Mr Montmorency, in his embarrassment, fingered one of his pockets and + nervously pulled out a snake, which crawled about the table. + </p> + <p> + “W-well, yes, sir,” he said. “The fact was—er—my people wanted + me very much to go into the house-agency business. But I never cared + myself for anything but natural history and botany and things like that. + My poor parents have been dead some years now, but—naturally I like + to respect their wishes. And I thought somehow that an arboreal villa + agency was a sort of—of compromise between being a botanist and + being a house-agent.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert could not help laughing. “Do you have much custom?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “N-not much,” replied Mr Montmorency, and then he glanced at Keith, who + was (I am convinced) his only client. “But what there is—very + select.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear friends,” said Basil, puffing his cigar, “always remember two + facts. The first is that though when you are guessing about any one who is + sane, the sanest thing is the most likely; when you are guessing about any + one who is, like our host, insane, the maddest thing is the most likely. + The second is to remember that very plain literal fact always seems + fantastic. If Keith had taken a little brick box of a house in Clapham + with nothing but railings in front of it and had written 'The Elms' over + it, you wouldn't have thought there was anything fantastic about that. + Simply because it was a great blaring, swaggering lie you would have + believed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Drink your wine, gentlemen,” said Keith, laughing, “for this confounded + wind will upset it.” + </p> + <p> + We drank, and as we did so, although the hanging house, by a cunning + mechanism, swung only slightly, we knew that the great head of the elm + tree swayed in the sky like a stricken thistle. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 5. The Noticeable Conduct of Professor Chadd + </h2> + <p> + Basil Grant had comparatively few friends besides myself; yet he was the + reverse of an unsociable man. He would talk to any one anywhere, and talk + not only well but with perfectly genuine concern and enthusiasm for that + person's affairs. He went through the world, as it were, as if he were + always on the top of an omnibus or waiting for a train. Most of these + chance acquaintances, of course, vanished into darkness out of his life. A + few here and there got hooked on to him, so to speak, and became his + lifelong intimates, but there was an accidental look about all of them as + if they were windfalls, samples taken at random, goods fallen from a goods + train or presents fished out of a bran-pie. One would be, let us say, a + veterinary surgeon with the appearance of a jockey; another, a mild + prebendary with a white beard and vague views; another, a young captain in + the Lancers, seemingly exactly like other captains in the Lancers; + another, a small dentist from Fulham, in all reasonable certainty + precisely like every other dentist from Fulham. Major Brown, small, dry, + and dapper, was one of these; Basil had made his acquaintance over a + discussion in a hotel cloak-room about the right hat, a discussion which + reduced the little major almost to a kind of masculine hysterics, the + compound of the selfishness of an old bachelor and the scrupulosity of an + old maid. They had gone home in a cab together and then dined with each + other twice a week until they died. I myself was another. I had met Grant + while he was still a judge, on the balcony of the National Liberal Club, + and exchanged a few words about the weather. Then we had talked for about + an hour about politics and God; for men always talk about the most + important things to total strangers. It is because in the total stranger + we perceive man himself; the image of God is not disguised by resemblances + to an uncle or doubts of the wisdom of a moustache. + </p> + <p> + One of the most interesting of Basil's motley group of acquaintances was + Professor Chadd. He was known to the ethnological world (which is a very + interesting world, but a long way off this one) as the second greatest, if + not the greatest, authority on the relations of savages to language. He + was known to the neighbourhood of Hart Street, Bloomsbury, as a bearded + man with a bald head, spectacles, and a patient face, the face of an + unaccountable Nonconformist who had forgotten how to be angry. He went to + and fro between the British Museum and a selection of blameless tea-shops, + with an armful of books and a poor but honest umbrella. He was never seen + without the books and the umbrella, and was supposed (by the lighter wits + of the Persian MS. room) to go to bed with them in his little brick villa + in the neighbourhood of Shepherd's Bush. There he lived with three + sisters, ladies of solid goodness, but sinister demeanour. His life was + happy, as are almost all the lives of methodical students, but one would + not have called it exhilarating. His only hours of exhilaration occurred + when his friend, Basil Grant, came into the house, late at night, a + tornado of conversation. + </p> + <p> + Basil, though close on sixty, had moods of boisterous babyishness, and + these seemed for some reason or other to descend upon him particularly in + the house of his studious and almost dingy friend. I can remember vividly + (for I was acquainted with both parties and often dined with them) the + gaiety of Grant on that particular evening when the strange calamity fell + upon the professor. Professor Chadd was, like most of his particular class + and type (the class that is at once academic and middle-class), a Radical + of a solemn and old-fashioned type. Grant was a Radical himself, but he + was that more discriminating and not uncommon type of Radical who passes + most of his time in abusing the Radical party. Chadd had just contributed + to a magazine an article called “Zulu Interests and the New Makango + Frontier”, in which a precise scientific report of his study of the + customs of the people of T'Chaka was reinforced by a severe protest + against certain interferences with these customs both by the British and + the Germans. He was sitting with the magazine in front of him, the + lamplight shining on his spectacles, a wrinkle in his forehead, not of + anger, but of perplexity, as Basil Grant strode up and down the room, + shaking it with his voice, with his high spirits and his heavy tread. + </p> + <p> + “It's not your opinions that I object to, my esteemed Chadd,” he was + saying, “it's you. You are quite right to champion the Zulus, but for all + that you do not sympathize with them. No doubt you know the Zulu way of + cooking tomatoes and the Zulu prayer before blowing one's nose; but for + all that you don't understand them as well as I do, who don't know an + assegai from an alligator. You are more learned, Chadd, but I am more + Zulu. Why is it that the jolly old barbarians of this earth are always + championed by people who are their antithesis? Why is it? You are + sagacious, you are benevolent, you are well informed, but, Chadd, you are + not savage. Live no longer under that rosy illusion. Look in the glass. + Ask your sisters. Consult the librarian of the British Museum. Look at + this umbrella.” And he held up that sad but still respectable article. + “Look at it. For ten mortal years to my certain knowledge you have carried + that object under your arm, and I have no sort of doubt that you carried + it at the age of eight months, and it never occurred to you to give one + wild yell and hurl it like a javelin—thus—” + </p> + <p> + And he sent the umbrella whizzing past the professor's bald head, so that + it knocked over a pile of books with a crash and left a vase rocking. + </p> + <p> + Professor Chadd appeared totally unmoved, with his face still lifted to + the lamp and the wrinkle cut in his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Your mental processes,” he said, “always go a little too fast. And they + are stated without method. There is no kind of inconsistency”—and no + words can convey the time he took to get to the end of the word—“between + valuing the right of the aborigines to adhere to their stage in the + evolutionary process, so long as they find it congenial and requisite to + do so. There is, I say, no inconsistency between this concession which I + have just described to you and the view that the evolutionary stage in + question is, nevertheless, so far as we can form any estimate of values in + the variety of cosmic processes, definable in some degree as an inferior + evolutionary stage.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing but his lips had moved as he spoke, and his glasses still shone + like two pallid moons. + </p> + <p> + Grant was shaking with laughter as he watched him. + </p> + <p> + “True,” he said, “there is no inconsistency, my son of the red spear. But + there is a great deal of incompatibility of temper. I am very far from + being certain that the Zulu is on an inferior evolutionary stage, whatever + the blazes that may mean. I do not think there is anything stupid or + ignorant about howling at the moon or being afraid of devils in the dark. + It seems to me perfectly philosophical. Why should a man be thought a sort + of idiot because he feels the mystery and peril of existence itself? + Suppose, my dear Chadd, suppose it is we who are the idiots because we are + not afraid of devils in the dark?” + </p> + <p> + Professor Chadd slit open a page of the magazine with a bone paper-knife + and the intent reverence of the bibliophile. + </p> + <p> + “Beyond all question,” he said, “it is a tenable hypothesis. I allude to + the hypothesis which I understand you to entertain, that our civilization + is not or may not be an advance upon, and indeed (if I apprehend you), is + or may be a retrogression from states identical with or analogous to the + state of the Zulus. Moreover, I shall be inclined to concede that such a + proposition is of the nature, in some degree at least, of a primary + proposition, and cannot adequately be argued, in the same sense, I mean, + that the primary proposition of pessimism, or the primary proposition of + the non-existence of matter, cannot adequately be argued. But I do not + conceive you to be under the impression that you have demonstrated + anything more concerning this proposition than that it is tenable, which, + after all, amounts to little more than the statement that it is not a + contradiction in terms.” + </p> + <p> + Basil threw a book at his head and took out a cigar. + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand,” he said, “but, on the other hand, as a + compensation, you don't mind smoking. Why you don't object to that + disgustingly barbaric rite I can't think. I can only say that I began it + when I began to be a Zulu, about the age of ten. What I maintained was + that although you knew more about Zulus in the sense that you are a + scientist, I know more about them in the sense that I am a savage. For + instance, your theory of the origin of language, something about its + having come from the formulated secret language of some individual + creature, though you knocked me silly with facts and scholarship in its + favour, still does not convince me, because I have a feeling that that is + not the way that things happen. If you ask me why I think so I can only + answer that I am a Zulu; and if you ask me (as you most certainly will) + what is my definition of a Zulu, I can answer that also. He is one who has + climbed a Sussex apple-tree at seven and been afraid of a ghost in an + English lane.” + </p> + <p> + “Your process of thought—” began the immovable Chadd, but his speech + was interrupted. His sister, with that masculinity which always in such + families concentrates in sisters, flung open the door with a rigid arm and + said: + </p> + <p> + “James, Mr Bingham of the British Museum wants to see you again.” + </p> + <p> + The philosopher rose with a dazed look, which always indicates in such men + the fact that they regard philosophy as a familiar thing, but practical + life as a weird and unnerving vision, and walked dubiously out of the + room. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you do not mind my being aware of it, Miss Chadd,” said Basil + Grant, “but I hear that the British Museum has recognized one of the men + who have deserved well of their commonwealth. It is true, is it not, that + Professor Chadd is likely to be made keeper of Asiatic manuscripts?” + </p> + <p> + The grim face of the spinster betrayed a great deal of pleasure and a + great deal of pathos also. “I believe it's true,” she said. “If it is, it + will not only be great glory which women, I assure you, feel a great deal, + but great relief, which they feel more; relief from worry from a lot of + things. James' health has never been good, and while we are as poor as we + are he had to do journalism and coaching, in addition to his own dreadful + grinding notions and discoveries, which he loves more than man, woman, or + child. I have often been afraid that unless something of this kind + occurred we should really have to be careful of his brain. But I believe + it is practically settled.” + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted,” began Basil, but with a worried face, “but these + red-tape negotiations are so terribly chancy that I really can't advise + you to build on hope, only to be hurled down into bitterness. I've known + men, and good men like your brother, come nearer than this and be + disappointed. Of course, if it is true—” + </p> + <p> + “If it is true,” said the woman fiercely, “it means that people who have + never lived may make an attempt at living.” + </p> + <p> + Even as she spoke the professor came into the room still with the dazed + look in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true?” asked Basil, with burning eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit true,” answered Chadd after a moment's bewilderment. “Your + argument was in three points fallacious.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” demanded Grant. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the professor slowly, “in saying that you could possess a + knowledge of the essence of Zulu life distinct from—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! confound Zulu life,” cried Grant, with a burst of laughter. “I mean, + have you got the post?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the post of keeper of the Asiatic manuscripts,” he said, opening + his eye with childlike wonder. “Oh, yes, I got that. But the real + objection to your argument, which has only, I admit, occurred to me since + I have been out of the room, is that it does not merely presuppose a Zulu + truth apart from the facts, but infers that the discovery of it is + absolutely impeded by the facts.” + </p> + <p> + “I am crushed,” said Basil, and sat down to laugh, while the professor's + sister retired to her room, possibly to laugh, possibly not. + </p> + <p> + It was extremely late when we left the Chadds, and it is an extremely long + and tiresome journey from Shepherd's Bush to Lambeth. This may be our + excuse for the fact that we (for I was stopping the night with Grant) got + down to breakfast next day at a time inexpressibly criminal, a time, in + point of fact, close upon noon. Even to that belated meal we came in a + very lounging and leisurely fashion. Grant, in particular, seemed so + dreamy at table that he scarcely saw the pile of letters by his plate, and + I doubt if he would have opened any of them if there had not lain on the + top that one thing which has succeeded amid modern carelessness in being + really urgent and coercive—a telegram. This he opened with the same + heavy distraction with which he broke his egg and drank his tea. When he + read it he did not stir a hair or say a word, but something, I know not + what, made me feel that the motionless figure had been pulled together + suddenly as strings are tightened on a slack guitar. Though he said + nothing and did not move, I knew that he had been for an instant cleared + and sharpened with a shock of cold water. It was scarcely any surprise to + me when a man who had drifted sullenly to his seat and fallen into it, + kicked it away like a cur from under him and came round to me in two + strides. + </p> + <p> + “What do you make of that?” he said, and flattened out the wire in front + of me. + </p> + <p> + It ran: “Please come at once. James' mental state dangerous. Chadd.” + </p> + <p> + “What does the woman mean?” I said after a pause, irritably. “Those women + have been saying that the poor old professor was mad ever since he was + born.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” said Grant composedly. “It is true that all sensible + women think all studious men mad. It is true, for the matter of that, all + women of any kind think all men of any kind mad. But they don't put it in + telegrams, any more than they wire to you that grass is green or God + all-merciful. These things are truisms, and often private ones at that. If + Miss Chadd has written down under the eye of a strange woman in a + post-office that her brother is off his head you may be perfectly certain + that she did it because it was a matter of life and death, and she can + think of no other way of forcing us to come promptly.” + </p> + <p> + “It will force us of course,” I said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” he replied; “there is a cab-rank near.” + </p> + <p> + Basil scarcely said a word as we drove across Westminster Bridge, through + Trafalgar Square, along Piccadilly, and up the Uxbridge Road. Only as he + was opening the gate he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I think you will take my word for it, my friend,” he said; “this is one + of the most queer and complicated and astounding incidents that ever + happened in London or, for that matter, in any high civilization.” + </p> + <p> + “I confess with the greatest sympathy and reverence that I don't quite see + it,” I said. “Is it so very extraordinary or complicated that a dreamy + somnambulant old invalid who has always walked on the borders of the + inconceivable should go mad under the shock of great joy? Is it so very + extraordinary that a man with a head like a turnip and a soul like a + spider's web should not find his strength equal to a confounding change of + fortunes? Is it, in short, so very extraordinary that James Chadd should + lose his wits from excitement?” + </p> + <p> + “It would not be extraordinary in the least,” answered Basil, with + placidity. “It would not be extraordinary in the least,” he repeated, “if + the professor had gone mad. That was not the extraordinary circumstance to + which I referred.” + </p> + <p> + “What,” I asked, stamping my foot, “was the extraordinary thing?” + </p> + <p> + “The extraordinary thing,” said Basil, ringing the bell, “is that he has + not gone mad from excitement.” + </p> + <p> + The tall and angular figure of the eldest Miss Chadd blocked the doorway + as the door opened. Two other Miss Chadds seemed in the same way to be + blocking the narrow passage and the little parlour. There was a general + sense of their keeping something from view. They seemed like three + black-clad ladies in some strange play of Maeterlinck, veiling the + catastrophe from the audience in the manner of the Greek chorus. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, won't you?” said one of them, in a voice that was somewhat + rigid with pain. “I think you had better be told first what has happened.” + </p> + <p> + Then, with her bleak face looking unmeaningly out of the window, she + continued, in an even and mechanical voice: + </p> + <p> + “I had better state everything that occurred just as it occurred. This + morning I was clearing away the breakfast things, my sisters were both + somewhat unwell, and had not come down. My brother had just gone out of + the room, I believe, to fetch a book. He came back again, however, without + it, and stood for some time staring at the empty grate. I said, 'Were you + looking for anything I could get?' He did not answer, but this constantly + happens, as he is often very abstracted. I repeated my question, and still + he did not answer. Sometimes he is so wrapped up in his studies that + nothing but a touch on the shoulder would make him aware of one's + presence, so I came round the table towards him. I really do not know how + to describe the sensation which I then had. It seems simply silly, but at + the moment it seemed something enormous, upsetting one's brain. The fact + is, James was standing on one leg.” + </p> + <p> + Grant smiled slowly and rubbed his hands with a kind of care. + </p> + <p> + “Standing on one leg?” I repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the dead voice of the woman without an inflection to + suggest that she felt the fantasticality of her statement. “He was + standing on the left leg and the right drawn up at a sharp angle, the toe + pointing downwards. I asked him if his leg hurt him. His only answer was + to shoot the leg straight at right angles to the other, as if pointing to + the other with his toe to the wall. He was still looking quite gravely at + the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “'James, what is the matter?' I cried, for I was thoroughly frightened. + James gave three kicks in the air with the right leg, flung up the other, + gave three kicks in the air with it also and spun round like a teetotum + the other way. 'Are you mad?' I cried. 'Why don't you answer me?' He had + come to a standstill facing me, and was looking at me as he always does, + with his lifted eyebrows and great spectacled eyes. When I had spoken he + remained a second or two motionless, and then his only reply was to lift + his left foot slowly from the floor and describe circles with it in the + air. I rushed to the door and shouted for Christina. I will not dwell on + the dreadful hours that followed. All three of us talked to him, implored + him to speak to us with appeals that might have brought back the dead, but + he has done nothing but hop and dance and kick with a solemn silent face. + It looks as if his legs belonged to some one else or were possessed by + devils. He has never spoken to us from that time to this.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he now?” I said, getting up in some agitation. “We ought not to + leave him alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor Colman is with him,” said Miss Chadd calmly. “They are in the + garden. Doctor Colman thought the air would do him good. And he can + scarcely go into the street.” + </p> + <p> + Basil and I walked rapidly to the window which looked out on the garden. + It was a small and somewhat smug suburban garden; the flower beds a little + too neat and like the pattern of a coloured carpet; but on this shining + and opulent summer day even they had the exuberance of something natural, + I had almost said tropical. In the middle of a bright and verdant but + painfully circular lawn stood two figures. One of them was a small, + sharp-looking man with black whiskers and a very polished hat (I presume + Dr Colman), who was talking very quietly and clearly, yet with a nervous + twitch, as it were, in his face. The other was our old friend, listening + with his old forbearing expression and owlish eyes, the strong sunlight + gleaming on his glasses as the lamplight had gleamed the night before, + when the boisterous Basil had rallied him on his studious decorum. But for + one thing the figure of this morning might have been the identical figure + of last night. That one thing was that while the face listened reposefully + the legs were industriously dancing like the legs of a marionette. The + neat flowers and the sunny glitter of the garden lent an indescribable + sharpness and incredibility to the prodigy—the prodigy of the head + of a hermit and the legs of a harlequin. For miracles should always happen + in broad daylight. The night makes them credible and therefore + commonplace. + </p> + <p> + The second sister had by this time entered the room and came somewhat + drearily to the window. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Adelaide,” she said, “that Mr Bingham from the Museum is coming + again at three.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Adelaide Chadd bitterly. “I suppose we shall have to tell + him about this. I thought that no good fortune would ever come easily to + us.” + </p> + <p> + Grant suddenly turned round. “What do you mean?” he said. “What will you + have to tell Mr Bingham?” + </p> + <p> + “You know what I shall have to tell him,” said the professor's sister, + almost fiercely. “I don't know that we need give it its wretched name. Do + you think that the keeper of Asiatic manuscripts will be allowed to go on + like that?” And she pointed for an instant at the figure in the garden, + the shining, listening face and the unresting feet. + </p> + <p> + Basil Grant took out his watch with an abrupt movement. “When did you say + the British Museum man was coming?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Three o'clock,” said Miss Chadd briefly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I have an hour before me,” said Grant, and without another word + threw up the window and jumped out into the garden. He did not walk + straight up to the doctor and lunatic, but strolling round the garden path + drew near them cautiously and yet apparently carelessly. He stood a couple + of feet off them, seemingly counting halfpence out of his trousers pocket, + but, as I could see, looking up steadily under the broad brim of his hat. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he stepped up to Professor Chadd's elbow, and said, in a loud + familiar voice, “Well, my boy, do you still think the Zulus our + inferiors?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor knitted his brows and looked anxious, seeming to be about to + speak. The professor turned his bald and placid head towards Grant in a + friendly manner, but made no answer, idly flinging his left leg about. + </p> + <p> + “Have you converted Dr Colman to your views?” Basil continued, still in + the same loud and lucid tone. + </p> + <p> + Chadd only shuffled his feet and kicked a little with the other leg, his + expression still benevolent and inquiring. The doctor cut in rather + sharply. “Shall we go inside, professor?” he said. “Now you have shown me + the garden. A beautiful garden. A most beautiful garden. Let us go in,” + and he tried to draw the kicking ethnologist by the elbow, at the same + time whispering to Grant: “I must ask you not to trouble him with + questions. Most risky. He must be soothed.” + </p> + <p> + Basil answered in the same tone, with great coolness: + </p> + <p> + “Of course your directions must be followed out, doctor. I will endeavour + to do so, but I hope it will not be inconsistent with them if you will + leave me alone with my poor friend in this garden for an hour. I want to + watch him. I assure you, Dr Colman, that I shall say very little to him, + and that little shall be as soothing as—as syrup.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor wiped his eyeglass thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “It is rather dangerous for him,” he said, “to be long in the strong sun + without his hat. With his bald head, too.” + </p> + <p> + “That is soon settled,” said Basil composedly, and took off his own big + hat and clapped it on the egglike skull of the professor. The latter did + not turn round but danced away with his eyes on the horizon. + </p> + <p> + The doctor put on his glasses again, looked severely at the two for some + seconds, with his head on one side like a bird's, and then saying, + shortly, “All right,” strutted away into the house, where the three Misses + Chadd were all looking out from the parlour window on to the garden. They + looked out on it with hungry eyes for a full hour without moving, and they + saw a sight which was more extraordinary than madness itself. + </p> + <p> + Basil Grant addressed a few questions to the madman, without succeeding in + making him do anything but continue to caper, and when he had done this + slowly took a red note-book out of one pocket and a large pencil out of + another. + </p> + <p> + He began hurriedly to scribble notes. When the lunatic skipped away from + him he would walk a few yards in pursuit, stop, and make notes again. Thus + they followed each other round and round the foolish circle of turf, the + one writing in pencil with the face of a man working out a problem, the + other leaping and playing like a child. + </p> + <p> + After about three-quarters of an hour of this imbecile scene, Grant put + the pencil in his pocket, but kept the note-book open in his hand, and + walking round the mad professor, planted himself directly in front of him. + </p> + <p> + Then occurred something that even those already used to that wild morning + had not anticipated or dreamed. The professor, on finding Basil in front + of him, stared with a blank benignity for a few seconds, and then drew up + his left leg and hung it bent in the attitude that his sister had + described as being the first of all his antics. And the moment he had done + it Basil Grant lifted his own leg and held it out rigid before him, + confronting Chadd with the flat sole of his boot. The professor dropped + his bent leg, and swinging his weight on to it kicked out the other + behind, like a man swimming. Basil crossed his feet like a saltire cross, + and then flung them apart again, giving a leap into the air. Then before + any of the spectators could say a word or even entertain a thought about + the matter, both of them were dancing a sort of jig or hornpipe opposite + each other; and the sun shone down on two madmen instead of one. + </p> + <p> + They were so stricken with the deafness and blindness of monomania that + they did not see the eldest Miss Chadd come out feverishly into the garden + with gestures of entreaty, a gentleman following her. Professor Chadd was + in the wildest posture of a pas-de-quatre, Basil Grant seemed about to + turn a cart-wheel, when they were frozen in their follies by the steely + voice of Adelaide Chadd saying, “Mr Bingham of the British Museum.” + </p> + <p> + Mr Bingham was a slim, well-clad gentleman with a pointed and slightly + effeminate grey beard, unimpeachable gloves, and formal but agreeable + manners. He was the type of the over-civilized, as Professor Chadd was of + the uncivilized pedant. His formality and agreeableness did him some + credit under the circumstances. He had a vast experience of books and a + considerable experience of the more dilettante fashionable salons. But + neither branch of knowledge had accustomed him to the spectacle of two + grey-haired middle-class gentlemen in modern costume throwing themselves + about like acrobats as a substitute for an after-dinner nap. + </p> + <p> + The professor continued his antics with perfect placidity, but Grant + stopped abruptly. The doctor had reappeared on the scene, and his shiny + black eyes, under his shiny black hat, moved restlessly from one of them + to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Dr Colman,” said Basil, turning to him, “will you entertain Professor + Chadd again for a little while? I am sure that he needs you. Mr Bingham, + might I have the pleasure of a few moments' private conversation? My name + is Grant.” + </p> + <p> + Mr Bingham, of the British Museum, bowed in a manner that was respectful + but a trifle bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Chadd will excuse me,” continued Basil easily, “if I know my way + about the house.” And he led the dazed librarian rapidly through the back + door into the parlour. + </p> + <p> + “Mr Bingham,” said Basil, setting a chair for him, “I imagine that Miss + Chadd has told you of this distressing occurrence.” + </p> + <p> + “She has, Mr Grant,” said Bingham, looking at the table with a sort of + compassionate nervousness. “I am more pained than I can say by this + dreadful calamity. It seems quite heart-rending that the thing should have + happened just as we have decided to give your eminent friend a position + which falls far short of his merits. As it is, of course—really, I + don't know what to say. Professor Chadd may, of course, retain—I + sincerely trust he will—his extraordinarily valuable intellect. But + I am afraid—I am really afraid—that it would not do to have + the curator of the Asiatic manuscripts—er—dancing about.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a suggestion to make,” said Basil, and sat down abruptly in his + chair, drawing it up to the table. + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted, of course,” said the gentleman from the British Museum, + coughing and drawing up his chair also. + </p> + <p> + The clock on the mantelpiece ticked for just the moments required for + Basil to clear his throat and collect his words, and then he said: + </p> + <p> + “My proposal is this. I do not know that in the strict use of words you + could altogether call it a compromise, still it has something of that + character. My proposal is that the Government (acting, as I presume, + through your Museum) should pay Professor Chadd £800 a year until he stops + dancing.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight hundred a year!” said Mr Bingham, and for the first time lifted his + mild blue eyes to those of his interlocutor—and he raised them with + a mild blue stare. “I think I have not quite understood you. Did I + understand you to say that Professor Chadd ought to be employed, in his + present state, in the Asiatic manuscript department at eight hundred a + year?” + </p> + <p> + Grant shook his head resolutely. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said firmly. “No. Chadd is a friend of mine, and I would say + anything for him I could. But I do not say, I cannot say, that he ought to + take on the Asiatic manuscripts. I do not go so far as that. I merely say + that until he stops dancing you ought to pay him £800 Surely you have some + general fund for the endowment of research.” + </p> + <p> + Mr Bingham looked bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “I really don't know,” he said, blinking his eyes, “what you are talking + about. Do you ask us to give this obvious lunatic nearly a thousand a year + for life?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” cried Basil, keenly and triumphantly. “I never said for + life. Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “What for, then?” asked the meek Bingham, suppressing an instinct meekly + to tear his hair. “How long is this endowment to run? Not till his death? + Till the Judgement day?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Basil, beaming, “but just what I said. Till he has stopped + dancing.” And he lay back with satisfaction and his hands in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + Bingham had by this time fastened his eyes keenly on Basil Grant and kept + them there. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Mr Grant,” he said. “Do I seriously understand you to suggest that + the Government pay Professor Chadd an extraordinarily high salary simply + on the ground that he has (pardon the phrase) gone mad? That he should be + paid more than four good clerks solely on the ground that he is flinging + his boots about in the back yard?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” said Grant composedly. + </p> + <p> + “That this absurd payment is not only to run on with the absurd dancing, + but actually to stop with the absurd dancing?” + </p> + <p> + “One must stop somewhere,” said Grant. “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + Bingham rose and took up his perfect stick and gloves. + </p> + <p> + “There is really nothing more to be said, Mr Grant,” he said coldly. “What + you are trying to explain to me may be a joke—a slightly unfeeling + joke. It may be your sincere view, in which case I ask your pardon for the + former suggestion. But, in any case, it appears quite irrelevant to my + duties. The mental morbidity, the mental downfall, of Professor Chadd, is + a thing so painful to me that I cannot easily endure to speak of it. But + it is clear there is a limit to everything. And if the Archangel Gabriel + went mad it would sever his connection, I am sorry to say, with the + British Museum Library.” + </p> + <p> + He was stepping towards the door, but Grant's hand, flung out in dramatic + warning, arrested him. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” said Basil sternly. “Stop while there is yet time. Do you want to + take part in a great work, Mr Bingham? Do you want to help in the glory of + Europe—in the glory of science? Do you want to carry your head in + the air when it is bald or white because of the part that you bore in a + great discovery? Do you want—” + </p> + <p> + Bingham cut in sharply: + </p> + <p> + “And if I do want this, Mr Grant—” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Basil lightly, “your task is easy. Get Chadd £800 a year till + he stops dancing.” + </p> + <p> + With a fierce flap of his swinging gloves Bingham turned impatiently to + the door, but in passing out of it found it blocked. Dr Colman was coming + in. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, gentlemen,” he said, in a nervous, confidential voice, “the + fact is, Mr Grant, I—er—have made a most disturbing discovery + about Mr Chadd.” + </p> + <p> + Bingham looked at him with grave eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid so,” he said. “Drink, I imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “Drink!” echoed Colman, as if that were a much milder affair. “Oh, no, + it's not drink.” + </p> + <p> + Mr Bingham became somewhat agitated, and his voice grew hurried and vague. + “Homicidal mania—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said the medical man impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Thinks he's made of glass,” said Bingham feverishly, “or says he's God—or—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Dr Colman sharply; “the fact is, Mr Grant, my discovery is of a + different character. The awful thing about him is—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, go on, sir,” cried Bingham, in agony. + </p> + <p> + “The awful thing about him is,” repeated Colman, with deliberation, “that + he isn't mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Not mad!” + </p> + <p> + “There are quite well-known physical tests of lunacy,” said the doctor + shortly; “he hasn't got any of them.” + </p> + <p> + “But why does he dance?” cried the despairing Bingham. “Why doesn't he + answer us? Why hasn't he spoken to his family?” + </p> + <p> + “The devil knows,” said Dr Colman coolly. “I'm paid to judge of lunatics, + but not of fools. The man's not mad.” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth can it mean? Can't we make him listen?” said Mr Bingham. + “Can none get into any kind of communication with him?” + </p> + <p> + Grant's voice struck in sudden and clear, like a steel bell: + </p> + <p> + “I shall be very happy,” he said, “to give him any message you like to + send.” + </p> + <p> + Both men stared at him. + </p> + <p> + “Give him a message?” they cried simultaneously. “How will you give him a + message?” + </p> + <p> + Basil smiled in his slow way. + </p> + <p> + “If you really want to know how I shall give him your message,” he began, + but Bingham cried: + </p> + <p> + “Of course, of course,” with a sort of frenzy. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Basil, “like this.” And he suddenly sprang a foot into the + air, coming down with crashing boots, and then stood on one leg. + </p> + <p> + His face was stern, though this effect was slightly spoiled by the fact + that one of his feet was making wild circles in the air. + </p> + <p> + “You drive me to it,” he said. “You drive me to betray my friend. And I + will, for his own sake, betray him.” + </p> + <p> + The sensitive face of Bingham took on an extra expression of distress as + of one anticipating some disgraceful disclosure. “Anything painful, of + course—” he began. + </p> + <p> + Basil let his loose foot fall on the carpet with a crash that struck them + all rigid in their feeble attitudes. + </p> + <p> + “Idiots!” he cried. “Have you seen the man? Have you looked at James Chadd + going dismally to and fro from his dingy house to your miserable library, + with his futile books and his confounded umbrella, and never seen that he + has the eyes of a fanatic? Have you never noticed, stuck casually behind + his spectacles and above his seedy old collar, the face of a man who might + have burned heretics, or died for the philosopher's stone? It is all my + fault, in a way: I lit the dynamite of his deadly faith. I argued against + him on the score of his famous theory about language—the theory that + language was complete in certain individuals and was picked up by others + simply by watching them. I also chaffed him about not understanding things + in rough and ready practice. What has this glorious bigot done? He has + answered me. He has worked out a system of language of his own (it would + take too long to explain); he has made up, I say, a language of his own. + And he has sworn that till people understand it, till he can speak to us + in this language, he will not speak in any other. And he shall not. I have + understood, by taking careful notice; and, by heaven, so shall the others. + This shall not be blown upon. He shall finish his experiment. He shall + have £800 a year from somewhere till he has stopped dancing. To stop him + now is an infamous war on a great idea. It is religious persecution.” + </p> + <p> + Mr Bingham held out his hand cordially. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, Mr Grant,” he said. “I hope I shall be able to answer for + the source of the £800 and I fancy that I shall. Will you come in my cab?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you very much, Mr Bingham,” said Grant heartily. “I think I + will go and have a chat with the professor in the garden.” + </p> + <p> + The conversation between Chadd and Grant appeared to be personal and + friendly. They were still dancing when I left. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter 6. The Eccentric Seclusion of the Old Lady + </h2> + <p> + The conversation of Rupert Grant had two great elements of interest—first, + the long fantasias of detective deduction in which he was engaged, and, + second, his genuine romantic interest in the life of London. His brother + Basil said of him: “His reasoning is particularly cold and clear, and + invariably leads him wrong. But his poetry comes in abruptly and leads him + right.” Whether this was true of Rupert as a whole, or no, it was + certainly curiously supported by one story about him which I think worth + telling. + </p> + <p> + We were walking along a lonely terrace in Brompton together. The street + was full of that bright blue twilight which comes about half past eight in + summer, and which seems for the moment to be not so much a coming of + darkness as the turning on of a new azure illuminator, as if the earth + were lit suddenly by a sapphire sun. In the cool blue the lemon tint of + the lamps had already begun to flame, and as Rupert and I passed them, + Rupert talking excitedly, one after another the pale sparks sprang out of + the dusk. Rupert was talking excitedly because he was trying to prove to + me the nine hundred and ninety-ninth of his amateur detective theories. He + would go about London, with this mad logic in his brain, seeing a + conspiracy in a cab accident, and a special providence in a falling fusee. + His suspicions at the moment were fixed upon an unhappy milkman who walked + in front of us. So arresting were the incidents which afterwards overtook + us that I am really afraid that I have forgotten what were the main + outlines of the milkman's crime. I think it had something to do with the + fact that he had only one small can of milk to carry, and that of that he + had left the lid loose and walked so quickly that he spilled milk on the + pavement. This showed that he was not thinking of his small burden, and + this again showed that he anticipated some other than lacteal business at + the end of his walk, and this (taken in conjunction with something about + muddy boots) showed something else that I have entirely forgotten. I am + afraid that I derided this detailed revelation unmercifully; and I am + afraid that Rupert Grant, who, though the best of fellows, had a good deal + of the sensitiveness of the artistic temperament, slightly resented my + derision. He endeavoured to take a whiff of his cigar, with the placidity + which he associated with his profession, but the cigar, I think, was + nearly bitten through. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” he said acidly, “I'll bet you half a crown that wherever + that milkman comes to a real stop I'll find out something curious.” + </p> + <p> + “My resources are equal to that risk,” I said, laughing. “Done.” + </p> + <p> + We walked on for about a quarter of an hour in silence in the trail of the + mysterious milkman. He walked quicker and quicker, and we had some ado to + keep up with him; and every now and then he left a splash of milk, silver + in the lamplight. Suddenly, almost before we could note it, he disappeared + down the area steps of a house. I believe Rupert really believed that the + milkman was a fairy; for a second he seemed to accept him as having + vanished. Then calling something to me which somehow took no hold on my + mind, he darted after the mystic milkman, and disappeared himself into the + area. + </p> + <p> + I waited for at least five minutes, leaning against a lamp-post in the + lonely street. Then the milkman came swinging up the steps without his can + and hurried off clattering down the road. Two or three minutes more + elapsed, and then Rupert came bounding up also, his face pale but yet + laughing; a not uncommon contradiction in him, denoting excitement. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” he said, rubbing his hands, “so much for all your scepticism. + So much for your philistine ignorance of the possibilities of a romantic + city. Two and sixpence, my boy, is the form in which your prosaic good + nature will have to express itself.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” I said incredulously, “do you mean to say that you really did find + anything the matter with the poor milkman?” + </p> + <p> + His face fell. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the milkman,” he said, with a miserable affectation at having + misunderstood me. “No, I—I—didn't exactly bring anything home + to the milkman himself, I—” + </p> + <p> + “What did the milkman say and do?” I said, with inexorable sternness. + </p> + <p> + “Well, to tell the truth,” said Rupert, shifting restlessly from one foot + to another, “the milkman himself, as far as merely physical appearances + went, just said, 'Milk, Miss,' and handed in the can. That is not to say, + of course, that he did not make some secret sign or some—” + </p> + <p> + I broke into a violent laugh. “You idiot,” I said, “why don't you own + yourself wrong and have done with it? Why should he have made a secret + sign any more than any one else? You own he said nothing and did nothing + worth mentioning. You own that, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + His face grew grave. + </p> + <p> + “Well, since you ask me, I must admit that I do. It is possible that the + milkman did not betray himself. It is even possible that I was wrong about + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then come along with you,” I said, with a certain amicable anger, “and + remember that you owe me half a crown.” + </p> + <p> + “As to that, I differ from you,” said Rupert coolly. “The milkman's + remarks may have been quite innocent. Even the milkman may have been. But + I do not owe you half a crown. For the terms of the bet were, I think, as + follows, as I propounded them, that wherever that milkman came to a real + stop I should find out something curious.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he answered, “I jolly well have. You just come with me,” and + before I could speak he had turned tail once more and whisked through the + blue dark into the moat or basement of the house. I followed almost before + I made any decision. + </p> + <p> + When we got down into the area I felt indescribably foolish literally, as + the saying is, in a hole. There was nothing but a closed door, shuttered + windows, the steps down which we had come, the ridiculous well in which I + found myself, and the ridiculous man who had brought me there, and who + stood there with dancing eyes. I was just about to turn back when Rupert + caught me by the elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Just listen to that,” he said, and keeping my coat gripped in his right + hand, he rapped with the knuckles of his left on the shutters of the + basement window. His air was so definite that I paused and even inclined + my head for a moment towards it. From inside was coming the murmur of an + unmistakable human voice. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been talking to somebody inside?” I asked suddenly, turning to + Rupert. + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven't,” he replied, with a grim smile, “but I should very much + like to. Do you know what somebody is saying in there?” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Then I recommend you to listen,” said Rupert sharply. + </p> + <p> + In the dead silence of the aristocratic street at evening, I stood a + moment and listened. From behind the wooden partition, in which there was + a long lean crack, was coming a continuous and moaning sound which took + the form of the words: “When shall I get out? When shall I get out? Will + they ever let me out?” or words to that effect. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know anything about this?” I said, turning upon Rupert very + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you think I am the criminal,” he said sardonically, “instead of + being in some small sense the detective. I came into this area two or + three minutes ago, having told you that I knew there was something funny + going on, and this woman behind the shutters (for it evidently is a woman) + was moaning like mad. No, my dear friend, beyond that I do not know + anything about her. She is not, startling as it may seem, my disinherited + daughter, or a member of my secret seraglio. But when I hear a human being + wailing that she can't get out, and talking to herself like a mad woman + and beating on the shutters with her fists, as she was doing two or three + minutes ago, I think it worth mentioning, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” I said, “I apologize; this is no time for arguing. What + is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + Rupert Grant had a long clasp-knife naked and brilliant in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” he said, “house-breaking.” And he forced the blade into + the crevice of the wood and broke away a huge splinter, leaving a gap and + glimpse of the dark window-pane inside. The room within was entirely + unlighted, so that for the first few seconds the window seemed a dead and + opaque surface, as dark as a strip of slate. Then came a realization + which, though in a sense gradual, made us step back and catch our breath. + Two large dim human eyes were so close to us that the window itself seemed + suddenly to be a mask. A pale human face was pressed against the glass + within, and with increased distinctness, with the increase of the opening + came the words: + </p> + <p> + “When shall I get out?” + </p> + <p> + “What can all this be?” I said. + </p> + <p> + Rupert made no answer, but lifting his walking-stick and pointing the + ferrule like a fencing sword at the glass, punched a hole in it, smaller + and more accurate than I should have supposed possible. The moment he had + done so the voice spouted out of the hole, so to speak, piercing and + querulous and clear, making the same demand for liberty. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you get out, madam?” I said, drawing near the hole in some + perturbation. + </p> + <p> + “Get out? Of course I can't,” moaned the unknown female bitterly. “They + won't let me. I told them I would be let out. I told them I'd call the + police. But it's no good. Nobody knows, nobody comes. They could keep me + as long as they liked only—” + </p> + <p> + I was in the very act of breaking the window finally with my stick, + incensed with this very sinister mystery, when Rupert held my arm hard, + held it with a curious, still, and secret rigidity as if he desired to + stop me, but did not desire to be observed to do so. I paused a moment, + and in the act swung slightly round, so that I was facing the supporting + wall of the front door steps. The act froze me into a sudden stillness + like that of Rupert, for a figure almost as motionless as the pillars of + the portico, but unmistakably human, had put his head out from between the + doorposts and was gazing down into the area. One of the lighted lamps of + the street was just behind his head, throwing it into abrupt darkness. + Consequently, nothing whatever could be seen of his face beyond one fact, + that he was unquestionably staring at us. I must say I thought Rupert's + calmness magnificent. He rang the area bell quite idly, and went on + talking to me with the easy end of a conversation which had never had any + beginning. The black glaring figure in the portico did not stir. I almost + thought it was really a statue. In another moment the grey area was golden + with gaslight as the basement door was opened suddenly and a small and + decorous housemaid stood in it. + </p> + <p> + “Pray excuse me,” said Rupert, in a voice which he contrived to make + somehow or other at once affable and underbred, “but we thought perhaps + that you might do something for the Waifs and Strays. We don't expect—” + </p> + <p> + “Not here,” said the small servant, with the incomparable severity of the + menial of the non-philanthropic, and slammed the door in our faces. + </p> + <p> + “Very sad, very sad—the indifference of these people,” said the + philanthropist with gravity, as we went together up the steps. As we did + so the motionless figure in the portico suddenly disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you make of that?” asked Rupert, slapping his gloves + together when we got into the street. + </p> + <p> + I do not mind admitting that I was seriously upset. Under such conditions + I had but one thought. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think,” I said a trifle timidly, “that we had better tell your + brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you like,” said Rupert, in a lordly way. “He is quite near, as I + promised to meet him at Gloucester Road Station. Shall we take a cab? + Perhaps, as you say, it might amuse him.” + </p> + <p> + Gloucester Road Station had, as if by accident, a somewhat deserted look. + After a little looking about we discovered Basil Grant with his great head + and his great white hat blocking the ticket-office window. I thought at + first that he was taking a ticket for somewhere and being an astonishingly + long time about it. As a matter of fact, he was discussing religion with + the booking-office clerk, and had almost got his head through the hole in + his excitement. When we dragged him away it was some time before he would + talk of anything but the growth of an Oriental fatalism in modern thought, + which had been well typified by some of the official's ingenious but + perverse fallacies. At last we managed to get him to understand that we + had made an astounding discovery. When he did listen, he listened + attentively, walking between us up and down the lamp-lit street, while we + told him in a rather feverish duet of the great house in South Kensington, + of the equivocal milkman, of the lady imprisoned in the basement, and the + man staring from the porch. At length he said: + </p> + <p> + “If you're thinking of going back to look the thing up, you must be + careful what you do. It's no good you two going there. To go twice on the + same pretext would look dubious. To go on a different pretext would look + worse. You may be quite certain that the inquisitive gentleman who looked + at you looked thoroughly, and will wear, so to speak, your portraits next + to his heart. If you want to find out if there is anything in this without + a police raid I fancy you had better wait outside. I'll go in and see + them.” + </p> + <p> + His slow and reflective walk brought us at length within sight of the + house. It stood up ponderous and purple against the last pallor of + twilight. It looked like an ogre's castle. And so apparently it was. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it's safe, Basil,” said his brother, pausing, a little pale, + under the lamp, “to go into that place alone? Of course we shall be near + enough to hear if you yell, but these devils might do something—something + sudden—or odd. I can't feel it's safe.” + </p> + <p> + “I know of nothing that is safe,” said Basil composedly, “except, possibly—death,” + and he went up the steps and rang at the bell. When the massive + respectable door opened for an instant, cutting a square of gaslight in + the gathering dark, and then closed with a bang, burying our friend + inside, we could not repress a shudder. It had been like the heavy gaping + and closing of the dim lips of some evil leviathan. A freshening night + breeze began to blow up the street, and we turned up the collars of our + coats. At the end of twenty minutes, in which we had scarcely moved or + spoken, we were as cold as icebergs, but more, I think, from apprehension + than the atmosphere. Suddenly Rupert made an abrupt movement towards the + house. + </p> + <p> + “I can't stand this,” he began, but almost as he spoke sprang back into + the shadow, for the panel of gold was again cut out of the black house + front, and the burly figure of Basil was silhouetted against it coming + out. He was roaring with laughter and talking so loudly that you could + have heard every syllable across the street. Another voice, or, possibly, + two voices, were laughing and talking back at him from within. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” Basil was calling out, with a sort of hilarious hostility. + “That's quite wrong. That's the most ghastly heresy of all. It's the soul, + my dear chap, the soul that's the arbiter of cosmic forces. When you see a + cosmic force you don't like, trick it, my boy. But I must really be off.” + </p> + <p> + “Come and pitch into us again,” came the laughing voice from out of the + house. “We still have some bones unbroken.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks very much, I will—good night,” shouted Grant, who had by + this time reached the street. + </p> + <p> + “Good night,” came the friendly call in reply, before the door closed. + </p> + <p> + “Basil,” said Rupert Grant, in a hoarse whisper, “what are we to do?” + </p> + <p> + The elder brother looked thoughtfully from one of us to the other. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done, Basil?” I repeated in uncontrollable excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure,” said Basil doubtfully. “What do you say to getting some + dinner somewhere and going to the Court Theatre tonight? I tried to get + those fellows to come, but they couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + We stared blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Go to the Court Theatre?” repeated Rupert. “What would be the good of + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Good? What do you mean?” answered Basil, staring also. “Have you turned + Puritan or Passive Resister, or something? For fun, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “But, great God in Heaven! What are we going to do, I mean!” cried Rupert. + “What about the poor woman locked up in that house? Shall I go for the + police?” + </p> + <p> + Basil's face cleared with immediate comprehension, and he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that,” he said. “I'd forgotten that. That's all right. Some mistake, + possibly. Or some quite trifling private affair. But I'm sorry those + fellows couldn't come with us. Shall we take one of these green omnibuses? + There is a restaurant in Sloane Square.” + </p> + <p> + “I sometimes think you play the fool to frighten us,” I said irritably. + “How can we leave that woman locked up? How can it be a mere private + affair? How can crime and kidnapping and murder, for all I know, be + private affairs? If you found a corpse in a man's drawing-room, would you + think it bad taste to talk about it just as if it was a confounded dado or + an infernal etching?” + </p> + <p> + Basil laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “That's very forcible,” he said. “As a matter of fact, though, I know it's + all right in this case. And there comes the green omnibus.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know it's all right in this ease?” persisted his brother + angrily. + </p> + <p> + “My dear chap, the thing's obvious,” answered Basil, holding a return + ticket between his teeth while he fumbled in his waistcoat pocket. “Those + two fellows never committed a crime in their lives. They're not the kind. + Have either of you chaps got a halfpenny? I want to get a paper before the + omnibus comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, curse the paper!” cried Rupert, in a fury. “Do you mean to tell me, + Basil Grant, that you are going to leave a fellow creature in pitch + darkness in a private dungeon, because you've had ten minutes' talk with + the keepers of it and thought them rather good men?” + </p> + <p> + “Good men do commit crimes sometimes,” said Basil, taking the ticket out + of his mouth. “But this kind of good man doesn't commit that kind of + crime. Well, shall we get on this omnibus?” + </p> + <p> + The great green vehicle was indeed plunging and lumbering along the dim + wide street towards us. Basil had stepped from the curb, and for an + instant it was touch and go whether we should all have leaped on to it and + been borne away to the restaurant and the theatre. + </p> + <p> + “Basil,” I said, taking him firmly by the shoulder, “I simply won't leave + this street and this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor will I,” said Rupert, glaring at it and biting his fingers. “There's + some black work going on there. If I left it I should never sleep again.” + </p> + <p> + Basil Grant looked at us both seriously. + </p> + <p> + “Of course if you feel like that,” he said, “we'll investigate further. + You'll find it's all right, though. They're only two young Oxford fellows. + Extremely nice, too, though rather infected with this pseudo-Darwinian + business. Ethics of evolution and all that.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Rupert darkly, ringing the bell, “that we shall enlighten + you further about their ethics.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I ask,” said Basil gloomily, “what it is that you propose to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I propose, first of all,” said Rupert, “to get into this house; secondly, + to have a look at these nice young Oxford men; thirdly, to knock them + down, bind them, gag them, and search the house.” + </p> + <p> + Basil stared indignantly for a few minutes. Then he was shaken for an + instant with one of his sudden laughs. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little boys,” he said. “But it almost serves them right for holding + such silly views, after all,” and he quaked again with amusement “there's + something confoundedly Darwinian about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you mean to help us?” said Rupert. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I'll be in it,” answered Basil, “if it's only to prevent your + doing the poor chaps any harm.” + </p> + <p> + He was standing in the rear of our little procession, looking indifferent + and sometimes even sulky, but somehow the instant the door opened he + stepped first into the hall, glowing with urbanity. + </p> + <p> + “So sorry to haunt you like this,” he said. “I met two friends outside who + very much want to know you. May I bring them in?” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted, of course,” said a young voice, the unmistakable voice of the + Isis, and I realized that the door had been opened, not by the decorous + little servant girl, but by one of our hosts in person. He was a short, + but shapely young gentleman, with curly dark hair and a square, snub-nosed + face. He wore slippers and a sort of blazer of some incredible college + purple. + </p> + <p> + “This way,” he said; “mind the steps by the staircase. This house is more + crooked and old-fashioned than you would think from its snobbish exterior. + There are quite a lot of odd corners in the place really.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Rupert, with a savage smile, “I can quite believe.” + </p> + <p> + We were by this time in the study or back parlour, used by the young + inhabitants as a sitting-room, an apartment littered with magazines and + books ranging from Dante to detective stories. The other youth, who stood + with his back to the fire smoking a corncob, was big and burly, with dead + brown hair brushed forward and a Norfolk jacket. He was that particular + type of man whose every feature and action is heavy and clumsy, and yet + who is, you would say, rather exceptionally a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Any more arguments?” he said, when introductions had been effected. “I + must say, Mr Grant, you were rather severe upon eminent men of science + such as we. I've half a mind to chuck my D.Sc. and turn minor poet.” + </p> + <p> + “Bosh,” answered Grant. “I never said a word against eminent men of + science. What I complain of is a vague popular philosophy which supposes + itself to be scientific when it is really nothing but a sort of new + religion and an uncommonly nasty one. When people talked about the fall of + man they knew they were talking about a mystery, a thing they didn't + understand. Now that they talk about the survival of the fittest they + think they do understand it, whereas they have not merely no notion, they + have an elaborately false notion of what the words mean. The Darwinian + movement has made no difference to mankind, except that, instead of + talking unphilosophically about philosophy, they now talk unscientifically + about science.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all very well,” said the big young man, whose name appeared to be + Burrows. “Of course, in a sense, science, like mathematics or the violin, + can only be perfectly understood by specialists. Still, the rudiments may + be of public use. Greenwood here,” indicating the little man in the + blazer, “doesn't know one note of music from another. Still, he knows + something. He knows enough to take off his hat when they play 'God Save + the King'. He doesn't take it off by mistake when they play 'Oh, Dem + Golden Slippers'. Just in the same way science—” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr Burrows stopped abruptly. He was interrupted by an argument + uncommon in philosophical controversy and perhaps not wholly legitimate. + Rupert Grant had bounded on him from behind, flung an arm round his + throat, and bent the giant backwards. + </p> + <p> + “Knock the other fellow down, Swinburne,” he called out, and before I knew + where I was I was locked in a grapple with the man in the purple blazer. + He was a wiry fighter, who bent and sprang like a whalebone, but I was + heavier and had taken him utterly by surprise. I twitched one of his feet + from under him; he swung for a moment on the single foot, and then we fell + with a crash amid the litter of newspapers, myself on top. + </p> + <p> + My attention for a moment released by victory, I could hear Basil's voice + finishing some long sentence of which I had not heard the beginning. + </p> + <p> + “... wholly, I must confess, unintelligible to me, my dear sir, and I need + not say unpleasant. Still one must side with one's old friends against the + most fascinating new ones. Permit me, therefore, in tying you up in this + antimacassar, to make it as commodious as handcuffs can reasonably be + while...” + </p> + <p> + I had staggered to my feet. The gigantic Burrows was toiling in the + garotte of Rupert, while Basil was striving to master his mighty hands. + Rupert and Basil were both particularly strong, but so was Mr Burrows; how + strong, we knew a second afterwards. His head was held back by Rupert's + arm, but a convulsive heave went over his whole frame. An instant after + his head plunged forward like a bull's, and Rupert Grant was slung head + over heels, a catherine wheel of legs, on the floor in front of him. + Simultaneously the bull's head butted Basil in the chest, bringing him + also to the ground with a crash, and the monster, with a Berserker roar, + leaped at me and knocked me into the corner of the room, smashing the + waste-paper basket. The bewildered Greenwood sprang furiously to his feet. + Basil did the same. But they had the best of it now. + </p> + <p> + Greenwood dashed to the bell and pulled it violently, sending peals + through the great house. Before I could get panting to my feet, and before + Rupert, who had been literally stunned for a few moments, could even lift + his head from the floor, two footmen were in the room. Defeated even when + we were in a majority, we were now outnumbered. Greenwood and one of the + footmen flung themselves upon me, crushing me back into the corner upon + the wreck of the paper basket. The other two flew at Basil, and pinned him + against the wall. Rupert lifted himself on his elbow, but he was still + dazed. + </p> + <p> + In the strained silence of our helplessness I heard the voice of Basil + come with a loud incongruous cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Now this,” he said, “is what I call enjoying oneself.” + </p> + <p> + I caught a glimpse of his face, flushed and forced against the bookcase, + from between the swaying limbs of my captors and his. To my astonishment + his eyes were really brilliant with pleasure, like those of a child heated + by a favourite game. + </p> + <p> + I made several apoplectic efforts to rise, but the servant was on top of + me so heavily that Greenwood could afford to leave me to him. He turned + quickly to come to reinforce the two who were mastering Basil. The + latter's head was already sinking lower and lower, like a leaking ship, as + his enemies pressed him down. He flung up one hand just as I thought him + falling and hung on to a huge tome in the bookcase, a volume, I afterwards + discovered, of St Chrysostom's theology. Just as Greenwood bounded across + the room towards the group, Basil plucked the ponderous tome bodily out of + the shelf, swung it, and sent it spinning through the air, so that it + struck Greenwood flat in the face and knocked him over like a rolling + ninepin. At the same instant Basil's stiffness broke, and he sank, his + enemies closing over him. + </p> + <p> + Rupert's head was clear, but his body shaken; he was hanging as best he + could on to the half-prostrate Greenwood. They were rolling over each + other on the floor, both somewhat enfeebled by their falls, but Rupert + certainly the more so. I was still successfully held down. The floor was a + sea of torn and trampled papers and magazines, like an immense waste-paper + basket. Burrows and his companion were almost up to the knees in them, as + in a drift of dead leaves. And Greenwood had his leg stuck right through a + sheet of the Pall Mall Gazette, which clung to it ludicrously, like some + fantastic trouser frill. + </p> + <p> + Basil, shut from me in a human prison, a prison of powerful bodies, might + be dead for all I knew. I fancied, however, that the broad back of Mr + Burrows, which was turned towards me, had a certain bend of effort in it + as if my friend still needed some holding down. Suddenly that broad back + swayed hither and thither. It was swaying on one leg; Basil, somehow, had + hold of the other. Burrows' huge fists and those of the footman were + battering Basil's sunken head like an anvil, but nothing could get the + giant's ankle out of his sudden and savage grip. While his own head was + forced slowly down in darkness and great pain, the right leg of his captor + was being forced in the air. Burrows swung to and fro with a purple face. + Then suddenly the floor and the walls and the ceiling shook together, as + the colossus fell, all his length seeming to fill the floor. Basil sprang + up with dancing eyes, and with three blows like battering-rams knocked the + footman into a cocked hat. Then he sprang on top of Burrows, with one + antimacassar in his hand and another in his teeth, and bound him hand and + foot almost before he knew clearly that his head had struck the floor. + Then Basil sprang at Greenwood, whom Rupert was struggling to hold down, + and between them they secured him easily. The man who had hold of me let + go and turned to his rescue, but I leaped up like a spring released, and, + to my infinite satisfaction, knocked the fellow down. The other footman, + bleeding at the mouth and quite demoralized, was stumbling out of the + room. My late captor, without a word, slunk after him, seeing that the + battle was won. Rupert was sitting astride the pinioned Mr Greenwood, + Basil astride the pinioned Mr Burrows. + </p> + <p> + To my surprise the latter gentleman, lying bound on his back, spoke in a + perfectly calm voice to the man who sat on top of him. + </p> + <p> + “And now, gentlemen,” he said, “since you have got your own way, perhaps + you wouldn't mind telling us what the deuce all this is?” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Basil, with a radiant face, looking down at his captive, + “this is what we call the survival of the fittest.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert, who had been steadily collecting himself throughout the latter + phases of the fight, was intellectually altogether himself again at the + end of it. Springing up from the prostrate Greenwood, and knotting a + handkerchief round his left hand, which was bleeding from a blow, he sang + out quite coolly: + </p> + <p> + “Basil, will you mount guard over the captive of your bow and spear and + antimacassar? Swinburne and I will clear out the prison downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Basil, rising also and seating himself in a leisured way + in an armchair. “Don't hurry for us,” he said, glancing round at the + litter of the room, “we have all the illustrated papers.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert lurched thoughtfully out of the room, and I followed him even more + slowly; in fact, I lingered long enough to hear, as I passed through the + room, the passages and the kitchen stairs, Basil's voice continuing + conversationally: + </p> + <p> + “And now, Mr Burrows,” he said, settling himself sociably in the chair, + “there's no reason why we shouldn't go on with that amusing argument. I'm + sorry that you have to express yourself lying on your back on the floor, + and, as I told you before, I've no more notion why you are there than the + man in the moon. A conversationalist like yourself, however, can scarcely + be seriously handicapped by any bodily posture. You were saying, if I + remember right, when this incidental fracas occurred, that the rudiments + of science might with advantage be made public.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” said the large man on the floor in an easy tone. “I hold that + nothing more than a rough sketch of the universe as seen by science can + be...” + </p> + <p> + And here the voices died away as we descended into the basement. I noticed + that Mr Greenwood did not join in the amicable controversy. Strange as it + may appear, I think he looked back upon our proceedings with a slight + degree of resentment. Mr Burrows, however, was all philosophy and + chattiness. We left them, as I say, together, and sank deeper and deeper + into the under-world of that mysterious house, which, perhaps, appeared to + us somewhat more Tartarean than it really was, owing to our knowledge of + its semi-criminal mystery and of the human secret locked below. + </p> + <p> + The basement floor had several doors, as is usual in such a house; doors + that would naturally lead to the kitchen, the scullery, the pantry, the + servants' hall, and so on. Rupert flung open all the doors with + indescribable rapidity. Four out of the five opened on entirely empty + apartments. The fifth was locked. Rupert broke the door in like a bandbox, + and we fell into the sudden blackness of the sealed, unlighted room. + </p> + <p> + Rupert stood on the threshold, and called out like a man calling into an + abyss: + </p> + <p> + “Whoever you are, come out. You are free. The people who held you captive + are captives themselves. We heard you crying and we came to deliver you. + We have bound your enemies upstairs hand and foot. You are free.” + </p> + <p> + For some seconds after he had spoken into the darkness there was a dead + silence in it. Then there came a kind of muttering and moaning. We might + easily have taken it for the wind or rats if we had not happened to have + heard it before. It was unmistakably the voice of the imprisoned woman, + drearily demanding liberty, just as we had heard her demand it. + </p> + <p> + “Has anybody got a match?” said Rupert grimly. “I fancy we have come + pretty near the end of this business.” + </p> + <p> + I struck a match and held it up. It revealed a large, bare, yellow-papered + apartment with a dark-clad figure at the other end of it near the window. + An instant after it burned my fingers and dropped, leaving darkness. It + had, however, revealed something more practical—an iron gas bracket + just above my head. I struck another match and lit the gas. And we found + ourselves suddenly and seriously in the presence of the captive. + </p> + <p> + At a sort of workbox in the window of this subterranean breakfast-room sat + an elderly lady with a singularly high colour and almost startling silver + hair. She had, as if designedly to relieve these effects, a pair of + Mephistophelian black eyebrows and a very neat black dress. The glare of + the gas lit up her piquant hair and face perfectly against the brown + background of the shutters. The background was blue and not brown in one + place; at the place where Rupert's knife had torn a great opening in the + wood about an hour before. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” said he, advancing with a gesture of the hat, “permit me to have + the pleasure of announcing to you that you are free. Your complaints + happened to strike our ears as we passed down the street, and we have + therefore ventured to come to your rescue.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady with the red face and the black eyebrows looked at us for a + moment with something of the apoplectic stare of a parrot. Then she said, + with a sudden gust or breathing of relief: + </p> + <p> + “Rescue? Where is Mr Greenwood? Where is Mr Burrows? Did you say you had + rescued me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam,” said Rupert, with a beaming condescension. “We have very + satisfactorily dealt with Mr Greenwood and Mr Burrows. We have settled + affairs with them very satisfactorily.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady rose from her chair and came very quickly towards us. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say to them? How did you persuade them?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “We persuaded them, my dear madam,” said Rupert, laughing, “by knocking + them down and tying them up. But what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + To the surprise of every one the old lady walked slowly back to her seat + by the window. + </p> + <p> + “Do I understand,” she said, with the air of a person about to begin + knitting, “that you have knocked down Mr Burrows and tied him up?” + </p> + <p> + “We have,” said Rupert proudly; “we have resisted their oppression and + conquered it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thanks,” answered the old lady, and sat down by the window. + </p> + <p> + A considerable pause followed. + </p> + <p> + “The road is quite clear for you, madam,” said Rupert pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + The old lady rose, cocking her black eyebrows and her silver crest at us + for an instant. + </p> + <p> + “But what about Greenwood and Burrows?” she said. “What did I understand + you to say had become of them?” + </p> + <p> + “They are lying on the floor upstairs,” said Rupert, chuckling. “Tied hand + and foot.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that settles it,” said the old lady, coming with a kind of bang + into her seat again, “I must stop where I am.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert looked bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “Stop where you are?” he said. “Why should you stop any longer where you + are? What power can force you now to stop in this miserable cell?” + </p> + <p> + “The question rather is,” said the old lady, with composure, “what power + can force me to go anywhere else?” + </p> + <p> + We both stared wildly at her and she stared tranquilly at us both. + </p> + <p> + At last I said, “Do you really mean to say that we are to leave you here?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you don't intend to tie me up,” she said, “and carry me off? I + certainly shall not go otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear madam,” cried out Rupert, in a radiant exasperation, “we + heard you with our own ears crying because you could not get out.” + </p> + <p> + “Eavesdroppers often hear rather misleading things,” replied the captive + grimly. “I suppose I did break down a bit and lose my temper and talk to + myself. But I have some sense of honour for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “Some sense of honour?” repeated Rupert, and the last light of + intelligence died out of his face, leaving it the face of an idiot with + rolling eyes. + </p> + <p> + He moved vaguely towards the door and I followed. But I turned yet once + more in the toils of my conscience and curiosity. “Can we do nothing for + you, madam?” I said forlornly. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said the lady, “if you are particularly anxious to do me a little + favour you might untie the gentlemen upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert plunged heavily up the kitchen staircase, shaking it with his vague + violence. With mouth open to speak he stumbled to the door of the + sitting-room and scene of battle. + </p> + <p> + “Theoretically speaking, that is no doubt true,” Mr Burrows was saying, + lying on his back and arguing easily with Basil; “but we must consider the + matter as it appears to our sense. The origin of morality...” + </p> + <p> + “Basil,” cried Rupert, gasping, “she won't come out.” + </p> + <p> + “Who won't come out?” asked Basil, a little cross at being interrupted in + an argument. + </p> + <p> + “The lady downstairs,” replied Rupert. “The lady who was locked up. She + won't come out. And she says that all she wants is for us to let these + fellows loose.” + </p> + <p> + “And a jolly sensible suggestion,” cried Basil, and with a bound he was on + top of the prostrate Burrows once more and was unknotting his bonds with + hands and teeth. + </p> + <p> + “A brilliant idea. Swinburne, just undo Mr Greenwood.” + </p> + <p> + In a dazed and automatic way I released the little gentleman in the purple + jacket, who did not seem to regard any of the proceedings as particularly + sensible or brilliant. The gigantic Burrows, on the other hand, was + heaving with herculean laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Basil, in his cheeriest way, “I think we must be getting + away. We've so much enjoyed our evening. Far too much regard for you to + stand on ceremony. If I may so express myself, we've made ourselves at + home. Good night. Thanks so much. Come along, Rupert.” + </p> + <p> + “Basil,” said Rupert desperately, “for God's sake come and see what you + can make of the woman downstairs. I can't get the discomfort out of my + mind. I admit that things look as if we had made a mistake. But these + gentlemen won't mind perhaps...” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” cried Burrows, with a sort of Rabelaisian uproariousness. “No, + no, look in the pantry, gentlemen. Examine the coal-hole. Make a tour of + the chimneys. There are corpses all over the house, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + This adventure of ours was destined to differ in one respect from others + which I have narrated. I had been through many wild days with Basil Grant, + days for the first half of which the sun and the moon seemed to have gone + mad. But it had almost invariably happened that towards the end of the day + and its adventure things had cleared themselves like the sky after rain, + and a luminous and quiet meaning had gradually dawned upon me. But this + day's work was destined to end in confusion worse confounded. Before we + left that house, ten minutes afterwards, one half-witted touch was added + which rolled all our minds in cloud. If Rupert's head had suddenly fallen + off on the floor, if wings had begun to sprout out of Greenwood's + shoulders, we could scarcely have been more suddenly stricken. And yet of + this we had no explanation. We had to go to bed that night with the + prodigy and get up next morning with it and let it stand in our memories + for weeks and months. As will be seen, it was not until months afterwards + that by another accident and in another way it was explained. For the + present I only state what happened. + </p> + <p> + When all five of us went down the kitchen stairs again, Rupert leading, + the two hosts bringing up the rear, we found the door of the prison again + closed. Throwing it open we found the place again as black as pitch. The + old lady, if she was still there, had turned out the gas: she seemed to + have a weird preference for sitting in the dark. + </p> + <p> + Without another word Rupert lit the gas again. The little old lady turned + her bird-like head as we all stumbled forward in the strong gaslight. + Then, with a quickness that almost made me jump, she sprang up and swept a + sort of old-fashioned curtsey or reverence. I looked quickly at Greenwood + and Burrows, to whom it was natural to suppose this subservience had been + offered. I felt irritated at what was implied in this subservience, and + desired to see the faces of the tyrants as they received it. To my + surprise they did not seem to have seen it at all: Burrows was paring his + nails with a small penknife. Greenwood was at the back of the group and + had hardly entered the room. And then an amazing fact became apparent. It + was Basil Grant who stood foremost of the group, the golden gaslight + lighting up his strong face and figure. His face wore an expression + indescribably conscious, with the suspicion of a very grave smile. His + head was slightly bent with a restrained bow. It was he who had + acknowledged the lady's obeisance. And it was he, beyond any shadow of + reasonable doubt, to whom it had really been directed. + </p> + <p> + “So I hear,” he said, in a kindly yet somehow formal voice, “I hear, + madam, that my friends have been trying to rescue you. But without + success.” + </p> + <p> + “No one, naturally, knows my faults better than you,” answered the lady + with a high colour. “But you have not found me guilty of treachery.” + </p> + <p> + “I willingly attest it, madam,” replied Basil, in the same level tones, + “and the fact is that I am so much gratified with your exhibition of + loyalty that I permit myself the pleasure of exercising some very large + discretionary powers. You would not leave this room at the request of + these gentlemen. But you know that you can safely leave it at mine.” + </p> + <p> + The captive made another reverence. “I have never complained of your + injustice,” she said. “I need scarcely say what I think of your + generosity.” + </p> + <p> + And before our staring eyes could blink she had passed out of the room, + Basil holding the door open for her. + </p> + <p> + He turned to Greenwood with a relapse into joviality. “This will be a + relief to you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it will,” replied that immovable young gentleman with a face like a + sphinx. + </p> + <p> + We found ourselves outside in the dark blue night, shaken and dazed as if + we had fallen into it from some high tower. + </p> + <p> + “Basil,” said Rupert at last, in a weak voice, “I always thought you were + my brother. But are you a man? I mean—are you only a man?” + </p> + <p> + “At present,” replied Basil, “my mere humanity is proved by one of the + most unmistakable symbols—hunger. We are too late for the theatre in + Sloane Square. But we are not too late for the restaurant. Here comes the + green omnibus!” and he had leaped on it before we could speak. ———————————————————————————————————— + </p> + <p> + As I said, it was months after that Rupert Grant suddenly entered my room, + swinging a satchel in his hand and with a general air of having jumped + over the garden wall, and implored me to go with him upon the latest and + wildest of his expeditions. He proposed to himself no less a thing than + the discovery of the actual origin, whereabouts, and headquarters of the + source of all our joys and sorrows—the Club of Queer Trades. I + should expand this story for ever if I explained how ultimately we ran + this strange entity to its lair. The process meant a hundred interesting + things. The tracking of a member, the bribing of a cabman, the fighting of + roughs, the lifting of a paving stone, the finding of a cellar, the + finding of a cellar below the cellar, the finding of the subterranean + passage, the finding of the Club of Queer Trades. + </p> + <p> + I have had many strange experiences in my life, but never a stranger one + than that I felt when I came out of those rambling, sightless, and + seemingly hopeless passages into the sudden splendour of a sumptuous and + hospitable dining-room, surrounded upon almost every side by faces that I + knew. There was Mr Montmorency, the Arboreal House-Agent, seated between + the two brisk young men who were occasionally vicars, and always + Professional Detainers. There was Mr P. G. Northover, founder of the + Adventure and Romance Agency. There was Professor Chadd, who invented the + Dancing Language. + </p> + <p> + As we entered, all the members seemed to sink suddenly into their chairs, + and with the very action the vacancy of the presidential seat gaped at us + like a missing tooth. + </p> + <p> + “The president's not here,” said Mr P. G. Northover, turning suddenly to + Professor Chadd. + </p> + <p> + “N-no,” said the philosopher, with more than his ordinary vagueness. + “I can't imagine where he is.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens,” said Mr Montmorency, jumping up, “I really feel a little + nervous. I'll go and see.” And he ran out of the room. + </p> + <p> + An instant after he ran back again, twittering with a timid ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + “He's there, gentlemen—he's there all right—he's coming in + now,” he cried, and sat down. Rupert and I could hardly help feeling the + beginnings of a sort of wonder as to who this person might be who was the + first member of this insane brotherhood. Who, we thought indistinctly, + could be maddest in this world of madmen: what fantastic was it whose + shadow filled all these fantastics with so loyal an expectation? + </p> + <p> + Suddenly we were answered. The door flew open and the room was filled and + shaken with a shout, in the midst of which Basil Grant, smiling and in + evening dress, took his seat at the head of the table. + </p> + <p> + How we ate that dinner I have no idea. In the common way I am a person + particularly prone to enjoy the long luxuriance of the club dinner. But on + this occasion it seemed a hopeless and endless string of courses. + Hors-d'oeuvre sardines seemed as big as herrings, soup seemed a sort of + ocean, larks were ducks, ducks were ostriches until that dinner was over. + The cheese course was maddening. I had often heard of the moon being made + of green cheese. That night I thought the green cheese was made of the + moon. And all the time Basil Grant went on laughing and eating and + drinking, and never threw one glance at us to tell us why he was there, + the king of these capering idiots. + </p> + <p> + At last came the moment which I knew must in some way enlighten us, the + time of the club speeches and the club toasts. Basil Grant rose to his + feet amid a surge of songs and cheers. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he said, “it is a custom in this society that the president + for the year opens the proceedings not by any general toast of sentiment, + but by calling upon each member to give a brief account of his trade. We + then drink to that calling and to all who follow it. It is my business, as + the senior member, to open by stating my claim to membership of this club. + Years ago, gentlemen, I was a judge; I did my best in that capacity to do + justice and to administer the law. But it gradually dawned on me that in + my work, as it was, I was not touching even the fringe of justice. I was + seated in the seat of the mighty, I was robed in scarlet and ermine; + nevertheless, I held a small and lowly and futile post. I had to go by a + mean rule as much as a postman, and my red and gold was worth no more than + his. Daily there passed before me taut and passionate problems, the + stringency of which I had to pretend to relieve by silly imprisonments or + silly damages, while I knew all the time, by the light of my living common + sense, that they would have been far better relieved by a kiss or a + thrashing, or a few words of explanation, or a duel, or a tour in the West + Highlands. Then, as this grew on me, there grew on me continuously the + sense of a mountainous frivolity. Every word said in the court, a whisper + or an oath, seemed more connected with life than the words I had to say. + Then came the time when I publicly blasphemed the whole bosh, was classed + as a madman and melted from public life.” + </p> + <p> + Something in the atmosphere told me that it was not only Rupert and I who + were listening with intensity to this statement. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I discovered that I could be of no real use. I offered myself + privately as a purely moral judge to settle purely moral differences. + Before very long these unofficial courts of honour (kept strictly secret) + had spread over the whole of society. People were tried before me not for + the practical trifles for which nobody cares, such as committing a murder, + or keeping a dog without a licence. My criminals were tried for the faults + which really make social life impossible. They were tried before me for + selfishness, or for an impossible vanity, or for scandalmongering, or for + stinginess to guests or dependents. Of course these courts had no sort of + real coercive powers. The fulfilment of their punishments rested entirely + on the honour of the ladies and gentlemen involved, including the honour + of the culprits. But you would be amazed to know how completely our orders + were always obeyed. Only lately I had a most pleasing example. A maiden + lady in South Kensington whom I had condemned to solitary confinement for + being the means of breaking off an engagement through backbiting, + absolutely refused to leave her prison, although some well-meaning persons + had been inopportune enough to rescue her.” + </p> + <p> + Rupert Grant was staring at his brother, his mouth fallen agape. So, for + the matter of that, I expect, was I. This, then, was the explanation of + the old lady's strange discontent and her still stranger content with her + lot. She was one of the culprits of his Voluntary Criminal Court. She was + one of the clients of his Queer Trade. + </p> + <p> + We were still dazed when we drank, amid a crash of glasses, the health of + Basil's new judiciary. We had only a confused sense of everything having + been put right, the sense men will have when they come into the presence + of God. We dimly heard Basil say: + </p> + <p> + “Mr P. G. Northover will now explain the Adventure and Romance Agency.” + </p> + <p> + And we heard equally dimly Northover beginning the statement he had made + long ago to Major Brown. Thus our epic ended where it had begun, like a + true cycle. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Club of Queer Trades, by G. K. 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