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diff --git a/old/1696-h.htm.2019-03-21 b/old/1696-h.htm.2019-03-21 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..72741a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1696-h.htm.2019-03-21 @@ -0,0 +1,6543 @@ +<?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> + <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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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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"O Rowty-owty tiddly-owty Tiddly-owty tiddly-owty Highty-ighty +tiddly-ighty Tiddly-ighty ow." + +He then retired from public life and took the garret in Lambeth. + +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. + +"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. + +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?" + +"I am and have been for some time," said Rupert, with some dignity, +"a private detective, and there's my client." + +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. + +Basil immediately said to me, "Let us come into the next room, +Gully," and was moving towards the door, but the stranger said: + +"Not at all. Friends remain. Assistance possibly." + +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. + +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. + +"Well, Major," said Rupert Grant, with a lordly heartiness, +flinging himself into a chair, "what is the matter with you?" + +"Yellow pansies. Coal-cellar. P. G. Northover," said the Major, +with righteous indignation. + +We glanced at each other with inquisitiveness. Basil, who had his +eyes shut in his abstracted way, said simply: + +"I beg your pardon." + +"Fact is. Street, you know, man, pansies. On wall. Death to me. +Something. Preposterous." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I'll tell you what, sir," he said. "If you're interested in them +things, you just get on to that wall." + +"On the wall!" cried the scandalised Major, whose conventional soul +quailed within him at the thought of such fantastic trespass. + +"Finest show of yellow pansies in England in that there garden, +sir," hissed the tempter. "I'll help you up, sir." + +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: + +DEATH TO MAJOR BROWN + +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. + +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. + +"Who on earth are you?" he gasped, trembling violently. + +"I am Major Brown," said that individual, who was always cool in +the hour of action. + +The old man gaped helplessly like some monstrous fish. At last he +stammered wildly, "Come down--come down here!" + +"At your service," said the Major, and alighted at a bound on the +grass beside him, without disarranging his silk hat. + +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. + +"For heaven's sake," he said, "don't mention jackals." + +Then he threw open the door, releasing a burst of red lamplight, +and ran downstairs with a clatter. + +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. + +"Madam," he said, bowing simply, "I am Major Brown." + +"Sit down," said the lady; but she did not turn her head. + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Some queer and unusual inspiration made the prosaic soldier +resolute to accept these outrageous riddles without surprise. + +"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. + +"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." + +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: + +"Major Brown, Major Brown, where does the jackal dwell?" + +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. + +"It is the end," she cried, with shaking lips; "it may be death for +both of us. Whenever--" + +But even as she spoke her speech was cloven by another hoarse +proclamation from the dark street, again horribly articulate. + +"Major Brown, Major Brown, how did the jackal die?" + +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: + +"Major Brown, Major Brown, where did--" + +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. + +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. + +She looked at him with wild grey eyes. "You will not go down," she +cried, "alone, into the dark hole, with that beast?" + +"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. + +"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." + +Rupert raised his eyebrows and looked at him for a moment, but said +nothing. When next he spoke he asked: + +"Was there anything in the pockets of the coat?" + +"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: + +Dear Mr Plover, + +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. + +Yours faithfully, P. G. Northover. + +Rupert Grant was leaning forward listening with hawk-like eyes. He +cut in: + +"Is it dated from anywhere?" + +"No--oh, yes!" replied Brown, glancing upon the paper; "14 Tanner's +Court, North--" + +Rupert sprang up and struck his hands together. + +"Then why are we hanging here? Let's get along. Basil, lend me your +revolver." + +Basil was staring into the embers like a man in a trance; and it +was some time before he answered: + +"I don't think you'll need it." + +"Perhaps not," said Rupert, getting into his fur coat. "One never +knows. But going down a dark court to see criminals--" + +"Do you think they are criminals?" asked his brother. + +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--" + +"Do you think they wanted to strangle the Major?" asked Basil, in +the same distant and monotonous voice. + +"My dear fellow, you've been asleep. Look at the letter." + +"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." + +"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." + +Basil Grant shook all over with a sort of silent laughter, but did +not otherwise move. + +"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." + +"It is. It's a matter of fact," cried the other in an agony of +reasonableness. + +"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." + +"But what the deuce else can the letter be but criminal?" + +"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." + +"Then what's the origin of it?" + +"I haven't the vaguest idea." + +"Then why don't you accept the ordinary explanation?" + +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: + +"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?" + +He paused a moment, and went on: + +"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. + +Rupert and the Major were regarding him with a mixture of respect +and pity. The former said + +"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?" + +"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. + +"You!" said Rupert, with some surprise, "you scarcely ever leave +your hole to look at anything on the face of the earth." + +Basil fitted on a formidable old white hat. + +"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." + +And he led the way out into the purple night. + +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. + +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. + +"Shall we go in now?" he asked. + +"Not get police?" asked Major Brown, glancing sharply up and down +the street. + +"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--" + +"I shouldn't get the police," said Basil in a queer voice. Rupert +glanced at him and stared hard. + +"Basil," he cried, "you're trembling. What's the matter--are you +afraid?" + +"Cold, perhaps," said the Major, eyeing him. There was no doubt +that he was shaking. + +At last, after a few moments' scrutiny, Rupert broke into a curse. + +"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--" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +The four of us cowered instantly under the archway, rigid, except +for the old judge and his convulsion of merriment. + +"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!" + +With the sound of the word the door burst open, and we fell into +the room like an invasion, only to stop dead. + +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. + +"Did you knock?" he asked pleasantly. "I am sorry if I did not +hear. What can I do for you?" + +There was a doubtful pause, and then, by general consent, the Major +himself, the victim of the outrage, stepped forward. + +The letter was in his hand, and he looked unusually grim. + +"Is your name P. G. Northover?" he asked. + +"That is my name," replied the other, smiling. + +"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. + +"Well, sir," said the Major, breathing hard, "what about that?" + +"What about it, precisely," said the man with the moustache. + +"I am Major Brown," said that gentleman sternly. + +Northover bowed. "Pleased to meet you, sir. What have you to say to +me?" + +"Say!" cried the Major, loosing a sudden tempest; "why, I want this +confounded thing settled. I want--" + +"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. + +The next moment an inner glass door was opened, and a fair, weedy, +young man, in a frock-coat, entered from within. + +"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?" + +"Yes, sir," said Mr Hopson, and vanished like lightning. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"I think you will find that all right, Major," he said briefly. + +The Major looked at it; whether he found it all right or not will +appear later, but he found it like this: + +Major Brown to P. G. Northover. L s. d. + January 1, to account rendered 5 6 0 + May 9, to potting and embedding of zoo 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 L14 6 0 +A Remittance will oblige. + +"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?" + +"What is it?" repeated Northover, cocking his eyebrow with +amusement. "It's your account, of course." + +"My account!" The Major's ideas appeared to be in a vague stampede. +"My account! And what have I got to do with it?" + +"Well," said Northover, laughing outright, "naturally I prefer you +to pay it." + +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. + +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. + +"Let me go, you scamps," he shouted. "Let me--" + +"Stand still," cried Rupert authoritatively. "Major Brown's action +is excusable. The abominable crime you have attempted--" + +"A customer has a perfect right," said Northover hotly, "to +question an alleged overcharge, but, confound it all, not to throw +furniture." + +"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--" + +"Mad," said Northover, gazing blankly round; "all of them mad. I +didn't know they travelled in quartettes." + +"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--" + +"Mad," repeated Northover, with a weary air. + +And at this moment, for the first time, there struck in among them +the strange, sleepy voice of Basil Grant. + +"Major Brown," he said, "may I ask you a question?" + +The Major turned his head with an increased bewilderment. + +"You?" he cried; "certainly, Mr Grant." + +"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?" + +The unhappy Major was only faintly more disturbed by this last and +futile irrelevancy, and he answered vaguely: + +"Yes, I think so; a man named Gurney something--a name with a +hyphen--Gurney-Brown; that was it." + +"And when did the house change hands?" said Basil, looking up +sharply. His strange eyes were burning brilliantly. + +"I came in last month," said the Major. + +And at the mere word the criminal Northover suddenly fell into his +great office chair and shouted with a volleying laughter. + +"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. + +"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." + +Northover rose. + +"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. + +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?" + +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. + +"Do you know where you are, Major?" he said. + +"God knows I don't," said the warrior, with fervour. + +"You are standing," replied Northover, "in the office of the +Adventure and Romance Agency, Limited." + +"And what's that?" blankly inquired Brown. + +The man of business leaned over the back of the chair, and fixed +his dark eyes on the other's face. + +"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?" + +"Certainly not," said the Major shortly. + +"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." + +"How on earth does the thing work?" asked Rupert Grant, with bright +and fascinated eyes. + +"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." + +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. + +Major Brown received the explanation with complete simplicity and +good humour. + +"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'." + +Northover bowed. Then after a pause he said: + +"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--" + +"I should be obliged for your card, sir," said the Major, in his +abrupt but courteous voice. "Pay for chair." + +The agent of Romance and Adventure handed his card, laughing. + +It ran, "P. G. Northover, B.A., C.Q.T., Adventure and Romance +Agency, 14 Tanner's Court, Fleet Street." + +"What on earth is "C.QT."?" asked Rupert Grant, looking over the +Major's shoulder. + +"Don't you know?" returned Northover. "Haven't you ever heard of +the Club of Queer Trades?" + +"There seems to be a confounded lot of funny things we haven't +heard of," said the little Major reflectively. "What's this one?" + +"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." + +"You deserve to be," said Basil, taking up his great white hat, +with a smile, and speaking for the last time that evening. + +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. + +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. + +"What! back again, Major?" cried Northover in surprise. "What can +I do for you?" + +The Major shuffled feverishly into the room. + +"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." + +"The end of it all?" + +"Yes," said the Major. "`Jackals', and the title-deeds, and `Death +to Major Brown'." + +The agent's face grew grave, but his eyes were amused. + +"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--" + +"There is no one," said Brown, "who understands discipline better +than I do. Thank you very much. Good night." + +And the little man withdrew for the last time. + +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. + +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. + + + +Chapter 2 + +The Painful Fall of a Great Reputation + +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. + +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. + +"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--" + +"Go on," I said. + +No answer came. + +"Go on," I said, looking up. + +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. + +"What is the matter?" I asked, peering over also. + +"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." + +"Where?" I asked, leaning over further, "where?" + +"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." + +"Which man?" I cried again, and then my eye caught the figure at +which Basil's bull's eyes were glaring. + +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. + +"What has he done?" I asked. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Basil Grant stared at me for some moments. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"But if you never saw him before--" I began. + +"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." + +I stirred uncomfortably. + +"But, after all," I said, "this is very fanciful--perfectly absurd. +Look at the mere facts. You have never seen the man before, you--" + +"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?" + +"Well, an immediate impression may be," I said, "a little less +practical than facts." + +"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." + +"You always put things well," I said, "but, of course, such things +cannot immediately be put to the test." + +Basil sprang up straight and swayed with the swaying car. + +"Let us get off and follow him," he said. "I bet you five pounds +it will turn out as I say." + +And with a scuttle, a jump, and a run, we were off the car. + +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. + +"This is an odd turning for a man of that kind to take," I said. + +"A man of what kind?" asked my friend. + +"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." + +"Ah, yes," said Basil, and said no more. + +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. + +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: + +"At once. Take a cab." + +A heavy, deep voice from inside said: + +"Right you are." + +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. + +"This is really an extraordinary walk for the patent-leather +boots," I repeated. + +"I don't know," said Basil humbly. "It leads to Berkeley Square." + +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. + +"This is very extraordinary!" said Basil Grant, as we turned into +Berkeley Square. + +"What is extraordinary?" I asked. "I thought you said it was quite +natural." + +"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." + +"What very good man?" I asked with exasperation. + +"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." + +"Who is old Beaumont?" I asked irritably. + +"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." + +"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." + +Basil's eyes were shining in the twilight like lamps. + +"I thought," he said, "that I had outlived vanity." + +"What do you want now?" I cried. + +"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." + +"Do you really mean--?" I began. + +"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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"An inopportune moment," cried the ardent gentleman. "You come at +the most opportune moment I could imagine. Do you know who is +here?" + +"I do not," answered Grant, with gravity. Even as he spoke a roar +of laughter came from the inner room. + +"Basil," said Lord Beaumont solemnly, "I have Wimpole here." + +"And who is Wimpole?" + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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--" + +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. + +"Now, my dear chap," began Lord Beaumont hastily. + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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." + +"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: + +"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." + +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. + +"Of course, I can excuse dear old Cholmondeliegh," said Beaumont, +as he helped us off with our coats. "He has not the modern mind." + +"What is the modern mind?" asked Grant. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"No," said Basil, loudly and cheerfully, as he entered the crowded +drawing-room. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Difficult to keep your countenance," cried Mr Wimpole, with an air +of alarm; "oh, do keep your countenance! Keep it in the British +Museum." + +Every one laughed uproariously, as they always do at an already +admitted readiness, and Sir Walter, turning suddenly purple, +shouted out: + +"Do you know who you are talking to, with your confounded +tomfooleries?" + +"I never talk tomfooleries," said the other, "without first knowing +my audience." + +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. + +"May I have a word with you outside, Drummond?" asked Grant. "It is +about business. Lady Beaumont will excuse us." + +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. + +"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?" + +Mr Secretary Drummond had a pale face and red hair; but at this his +face became suddenly as red as his moustache. + +"I am not a fair judge of him," he said. + +"Why not?" asked Grant. + +"Because I hate him like hell," said the other, after a long pause +and violently. + +Neither Grant nor I needed to ask the reason; his glances towards +Miss Beaumont and the stranger were sufficiently illuminating. +Grant said quietly: + +"But before--before you came to hate him, what did you really think +of him?" + +"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." + +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. + +In the middle of these meditations, Grant whispered in my ear what +was perhaps the most startling of all interruptions. + +"In the name of God, let's get away." + +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. + +"This," he said, "is a beastly but amusing affair." + +"What is?" I asked, baldly enough. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Don't you?" said Grant. "I'll bet you'll see something +extraordinary in what we're doing instead." + +I looked at him blankly. + +"Doing instead?" I asked. "What are we doing instead?" + +"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?" + +"Certainly," I said. "But I do not know which is likely to leave +first. Have you any notion?" + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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: + +"Run after the cab; run as if you were running from a mad dog-- +run." + +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. + +Basil, with one of his rare gestures, flung his arms forward. + +"Run after that scoundrel," he cried; "let us catch him now." + +We dashed across the open space and reached the juncture of two paths. + +"Stop!" I shouted wildly to Grant. "That's the wrong turning." + +He ran on. + +"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!" + +"I don't think I am," he panted, and ran on. + +"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?" + +"Keep running," said Grant. + +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. + +"Charlie," said Basil hoarsely, "can you believe in my common sense +for four minutes?" + +"Of course," I said, panting. + +"Then help me to catch that man in front and hold him down. Do it +at once when I say `Now'. Now!" + +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. + +"I am sorry to incommode you," said Basil calmly out of the +darkness; "but I have made an appointment here." + +"An appointment!" I said blankly. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +Grant pointed to the portly old gentleman on the ground. + +"That is what it means," he said. + +Drummond, on observing a fat gentleman lying so calmly about the +place, jumped back, as from a mouse. + +"What?" he said weakly, ". . . what?" + +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. + +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: + +C. Says . . . Keep countenance. + +W. Keep . . . British Museum. + +C. Know whom talk . . . absurdities. + +W. Never talk absurdities without + +"What is it?" cried Drummond, flinging the paper down in a sort of +final fury. + +"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." + +"A new profession!" said the young man with the red moustache +vaguely; "a new trade!" + +"A new trade," repeated Grant, with a strange exultation, "a new +profession! What a pity it is immoral." + +"But what the deuce is it?" cried Drummond and I in a breath of +blasphemy. + +"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." + +"And this fellow Wimpole--" began Drummond with indignation. + +"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." + +"That fellow," cried Drummond furiously, "that fellow ought to be +in gaol." + +"Not at all," said Basil indulgently; "he ought to be in the Club +of Queer Trades." + + + +Chapter 3 + +The Awful Reason of the Vicar's Visit + +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. + +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. + +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."! + +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: + +"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." + +I told him I forgave perfectly and waited. + +"What I have to say," he said brokenly, "is so dreadful--it is so +dreadful--I have lived a quiet life." + +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. + +I said gently: "Pray go on." + +Nevertheless the old gentleman, being a gentleman as well as old, +noticed my secret impatience and seemed still more unmanned. + +"I'm so sorry," he said meekly; "I wouldn't have come--but for-- +your friend Major Brown recommended me to come here." + +"Major Brown!" I said, with some interest. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +And he sat down, quaking like a jelly. + +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. + +"Will you have a cigar?" I said. + +"No, thank you," he said, with indescribable embarrassment, as if +not smoking cigars was a social disgrace. + +"A glass of wine?" I said. + +"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." + +"Nothing else I can get for you?" I said, feeling genuinely sorry +for the well-mannered old donkey. "A cup of tea?" + +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: + +"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." + +"What things happen?" I asked. + +He straightened himself with sudden dignity. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"As an old woman," said the vicar solemnly, "as an old woman." + +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: + +"May I ask how it occurred?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"What did you hear?" I asked, with some impatience. + +"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.'" + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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 coin' +things, har lar theater.' + +"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. + +"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." + +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: + +"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? + +"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.' + +"`Curse 'is eyes,' said Miss Brett--I mean the man with the +revolver--`why should we show 'im the game?' + +"`If you take my advice you bloomin' well will,' said the man at +the door, whom they called Bill. `A man wot knows wet 'e's doin' is +worth ten wot don't, even if 'e's a potty old parson.' + +"`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.' + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"`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. + +"`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?' + +"I nodded. + +"`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. + +"`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.' + +"`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.' + +"`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.' + +"`What do you mean, you wild creatures?' I gasped. `What am I to +do?' + +"`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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"The constable instantly flashed his lantern on me, or the +draggled, drunken old woman that was my travesty. `Now then, mum,' +he began gruffly. + +"`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. + +"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. + +"`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.' + +"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. + +"`When we get you past,' whispered Bill, `you'll howl louder; +you'll howl louder when we're burning your feet off.' + +"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. + +"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. + +"My desperate coup saved me. The policeman had me hard by the back +of the neck. + +"`You come along with me,' he began, but Bill cut in with his +perfect imitation of a lady's finnicking voice. + +"`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.' + +"`She butted me in the stomach,' said the policeman briefly. + +"`Eccentricities of genius,' said Sam earnestly. + +"`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.' + +"`That's no good,' cried Bill feverishly. `She wants her friends. +She wants a particular medicine we've got.' + +"`Yes,' assented Miss Mowbray, with excitement, `no other medicine +any good, constable. Complaint quite unique.' + +"`I'm all righ'. Cutchy, cutchy, coo!' remarked, to his eternal +shame, the Vicar of Chuntsey. + +"`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?' + +"`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.' + +"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. + +"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. + +"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! + +"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." + +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. + +"And now--" I began. + +"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?" + +I took out my watch. It was already half past twelve. + +"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?" + +"Not at all," he replied, rising politely, and gathering up his +absurd plaid shawl. + +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. + +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: + +"Do you know a man named Captain Fraser?" + +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." + +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. + +"You are quite sure, Mr Shorter," he repeated, "that you don't +know Captain Fraser?" + +"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. + +Basil sprang smartly to his feet. + +"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." + +"When?" asked the clergyman, stammering. + +"Now," said Basil, putting one arm in his fur coat. + +The old clergyman rose to his feet, quaking all over. + +"I really do not think that it is necessary," he said. + +Basil took his arm out of the fur coat, threw it over the chair +again, and put his hands in his pockets. + +"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." + +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. + +"Your whiskers," he cried, advancing with blazing eyes. "Give me +your whiskers. And your bald head." + +The old vicar naturally retreated a step or two. I stepped +between. + +"Sit down, Basil," I implored, "you're a little excited. Finish +your wine." + +"Whiskers," he answered sternly, "whiskers." + +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. + +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. + +At length Shorter was cornered. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"No, no," said Mr Shorter, laughing, "we provide them ourselves. +They don't belong to Captain Fraser." + +"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." + +"No," said Grant, "I didn't." + +"Didn't you go to Mrs Thornton's dinner-party?" I asked, staring. +"Why not?" + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Basil," I said, "if you are my friend, save me. What is all this?" + +He laughed again. + +"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." + +"And what on earth's that?" I asked. + +"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. + +Basil smiled also. He intervened. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Oh," I said, "I acquit you of tameness." + +"Thank you, sir," said the man respectfully, "always very grateful +for any recommendation, sir." + +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. + +"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." + +"There is one thing I don't understand," I said. "Why you are both +vicars." + +A shade crossed the brow of the temporary incumbent of Chuntsey, in +Essex. + +"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." + + + +Chapter 4 + +The Singular Speculation of the House-Agent + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I could swallow a good deal, being naturally of a simple turn, but +I could not swallow Lieutenant Keith's autobiography. + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"I believe Keith's words," answered the other. "He is an honest +man." + +"I should like to question a regiment of his landladies," said +Rupert cynically. + +"I must say, I think you can hardly regard him as unimpeachable +merely in himself," I said mildly; "his mode of life--" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Shall I cross it?" he asked, opening a cheque-book. + +"Really," began Rupert, with a rather nervous loudness, "since +Lieutenant Keith has seen fit to make this suggestion to Basil +before his family, I--" + +"Here you are, Ugly," said Basil, fluttering a cheque in the +direction of the quite nonchalant officer. "Are you in a hurry?" + +"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." + +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: + +"A business man? That's rather a general description, Lieutenant +Keith." + +Keith looked at him sharply, and then said, with something rather +like ill-temper: + +"He's a thingum-my-bob, a house-agent, say. I'm going to see him." + +"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?" + +Basil shook with his soundless laughter. Lieutenant Keith started +a little; his brow blackened sharply. + +"I beg your pardon," he said. "What did you say?" + +Rupert's face had been growing from stage to stage of ferocious +irony, and he answered: + +"I was saying that I wondered whether you would mind our strolling +along with you to this house-agent's." + +The visitor swung his stick with a sudden whirling violence. + +"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. + +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. + +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." + +"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?" + +Rupert's face was white and shaking with excitement; nothing on +earth would have induced him now to have abandoned his prey. + +"If you will excuse me," he said, clenching his hands behind his +back, "I think I should feel myself justified in--" + +"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. 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. + +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. + +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: + +"Mr Montmorency, I think?" + +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: + +"Sir." + +"You are a house-agent, are you not?" asked Rupert. + +To the delight of that criminal investigator, Mr Montmorency's eyes +wandered unquietly towards Lieutenant Keith, the only man present +that he knew. + +"A house-agent," cried Rupert again, bringing out the word as if it +were "burglar'. + +"Yes . . . oh, yes," said the man, with a quavering and almost +coquettish smile. "I am a house-agent . . . oh, yes." + +"Well, I think," said Rupert, with a sardonic sleekness, "that +Lieutenant Keith wants to speak to you. We have come in by his +request." + +Lieutenant Keith was lowering gloomily, and now he spoke. + +"I have come, Mr Montmorency, about that house of mine." + +"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--" + +"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." + +And he turned sharply towards the door. + +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 . . ." + +"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. + +"I think," said Rupert Grant, with a satanic suavity, "that Mr +Montmorency has something further to say to you, lieutenant." + +"Only," said the house-agent, in desperation, "what about the +birds?" + +"I beg your pardon," said Rupert, in a general blank. + +"What about the birds?" said the house-agent doggedly. + +Basil, who had remained throughout the procedings in a state of +Napoleonic calm, which might be more accurately described as a +state of Napoleonic stupidity, suddenly lifted his leonine head. + +"Before you go, Lieutenant Keith," he said. "Come now. Really, +what about the birds?" + +"I'll take care of them," said Lieutenant Keith, still with his +long back turned to us; "they shan't suffer." + +"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. . ." + +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." + +"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--" + +"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. + +Rupert Grant seemed to take a little time to collect himself; but +he spoke before the echoes of the door died away. + +"Your client, Lieutenant Keith, appears somewhat excited," he +said. "What is the matter with him? Is he unwell?" + +"Oh, I should think not," said Mr Montmorency, in some confusion. +"The negotiations have been somewhat difficult--the house is +rather--" + +"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?" + +"Only," said Montmorency, trembling, "only to be inconspicuous." + +Rupert had his ruthless smile. "Can you tell me any place on earth +in which a green house would be inconspicuous?" + +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: + +"No; I can't." + +"You can't suggest an explanation?" + +"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?" + +He opened his blank blue eyes on Rupert, who seemed for the second +staggered. Then he recovered himself with perfect common sense and +answered: + +"I am sorry, Mr Montmorency. The fascination of your remarks has +unduly delayed us from joining our friend outside. Pray excuse my +apparent impertinence." + +"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." + +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. + +"What do you say now?" cried Rupert to his brother. His brother +said nothing now. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"That is the man, constable," he shouted, pointing at the battered +lieutenant. "He is a suspicious character. He did the murder." + +"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." + +"Have a good eye kept on that one," said Rupert, pale to the lips, +and pointing to the ragged Keith. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"Yes, sir," said the policeman, after a reflective pause; "yes, he +gave me his address." + +"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?" + +The constable looked at him. + +"Yes," he said slowly, "if you like. His address is: The Elms, +Buxton Common, near Purley, Surrey." + +"Thank you," said Rupert, and ran home through the gathering night +as fast as his legs could carry him, repeating the address to +himself. + +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. + +"Well," he said sharply to his brother almost before we sat down to +the meal. "What do you think of your Drummond Keith now?" + +"What do I think of him?" inquired Basil slowly. "I don't think +anything of him." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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--" + +As he spoke a knock came at the door. + +"If you please, sir," said the landlady, with an alarmed air, +"there's a policeman wants to see you." + +"Show him in," said Basil, amid the blank silence. + +The heavy, handsome constable who appeared at the door spoke +almost as soon as he appeared there. + +"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." + +Rupert half rose from his chair, with eyes like diamonds, but the +constable went on calmly, referring to a paper. + +"A young man with grey hair. Had light grey clothes, very good, but +torn in the struggle. Gave his name as Drummond Keith." + +"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?" + +"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." + +The breakfast table was nearly flung over as Rupert sprang up, +slapping both his thighs. + +"Well, by all that's good," he cried. "This is a sign from heaven." + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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: + +"You really searched the common? And the address was really not +known in the district--by the way, what was the address?" + +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. + +"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." + +"And what was it?" asked his brother gruffly. + +"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." + +"Right, sir," said the policeman, laughing and folding up his +papers. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Get down to that place?" I repeated blankly. "Get down to what +place?" + +"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?" + +"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!" + +"Why shouldn't I go to Buxton Common?" asked Basil, smiling. + +"Why should you?" said his brother, catching hold again restlessly +of the plant in the window and staring at the speaker. + +"To find our friend, the lieutenant, of course," said Basil Grant. +"I thought you wanted to find him?" + +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." + +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: + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +"Yes," said Basil, taking out his watch, "and, what's worse, we've +lost the train." + +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." + +"Catch him!" cried his brother, in a kind of final anger. "I wish +we could. Where the deuce shall we catch him now?" + +"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." + +"But there is no such place," groaned Rupert; but he followed his +brother downstairs. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Well," he cried, taking his heavily gloved hands out of his +pockets and slapping them together, "here we are at last." + +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. + +"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." + +Rupert and I exchanged glances of fear. Basil went on heartily, as +the wind died in the dreary trees. + +"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." + +"What do you mean?" I asked, finding his speech straying towards a +sort of sanity. "What is his greatest virtue?" + +"His greatest virtue," replied Basil, "is that he always tells the +literal truth." + +"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?" + +"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." + +Rupert whispered to me with a white face: + +"Is it a hallucination, do you think? Does he really fancy he sees +a house?" + +"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: + +"Come, come, Basil, my dear fellow. Where do you want us to go?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"We can't leave poor Basil," I said. "Can't you call to him or get +hold of him by the leg?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Can nothing be done to stop Basil?" I called out. + +"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." + +"Perhaps he's talking to us," I said. + +"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." + +"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. + +After a silence mingled with this murmur, Rupert Grant suddenly +said, "My God!" with a violent voice. + +"What's the matter--are you hurt?" I cried, alarmed. + +"No. Listen to Basil," said the other in a very strange voice. +"He's not talking to himself." + +"Then he is talking to us," I cried. + +"No," said Rupert simply, "he's talking to somebody else." + +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. + +Suddenly from aloft came Basil's boisterous hailing voice as +before: "Come up, you fellows. Here's Lieutenant Keith." + +And a second afterwards came the half-American voice we had heard +in our chambers more than once. It called out: + +"Happy to see you, gentlemen; pray come in." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Our glasses were filled, and we still sat there dazed and dumb. +Then Basil spoke. + +"You seem still a little doubtful, Rupert. Surely there is no +further question about the cold veracity of our injured host." + +"I don't quite grasp it all," said Rupert, blinking still in the +sudden glare. "Lieutenant Keith said his address was--" + +"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." + +"Are you really an agent for arboreal villas?" asked Rupert +eagerly, recovering his ease with the romance of reality. + +Mr Montmorency, in his embarrassment, fingered one of his pockets +and nervously pulled out a snake, which crawled about the table. + +"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." + +Rupert could not help laughing. "Do you have much custom?" he asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Drink your wine, gentlemen," said Keith, laughing, "for this +confounded wind will upset it." + +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. + + + +Chapter 5 + +The Noticeable Conduct of Professor Chadd + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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--" + +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. + +Professor Chadd appeared totally unmoved, with his face still +lifted to the lamp and the wrinkle cut in his forehead. + +"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." + +Nothing but his lips had moved as he spoke, and his glasses still +shone like two pallid moons. + +Grant was shaking with laughter as he watched him. + +"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?" + +Professor Chadd slit open a page of the magazine with a bone +paper-knife and the intent reverence of the bibliophile. + +"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." + +Basil threw a book at his head and took out a cigar. + +"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." + +"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: + +"James, Mr Bingham of the British Museum wants to see you again." + +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. + +"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?" + +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." + +"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--" + +"If it is true," said the woman fiercely, "it means that people who +have never lived may make an attempt at living." + +Even as she spoke the professor came into the room still with the +dazed look in his eyes. + +"Is it true?" asked Basil, with burning eyes. + +"Not a bit true," answered Chadd after a moment's bewilderment. +"Your argument was in three points fallacious." + +"What do you mean?" demanded Grant. + +"Well," said the professor slowly, "in saying that you could +possess a knowledge of the essence of Zulu life distinct from--" + +"Oh! confound Zulu life," cried Grant, with a burst of laughter. "I +mean, have you got the post?" + +"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." + +"I am crushed," said Basil, and sat down to laugh, while the +professor's sister retired to her room, possibly, possibly not. + +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. + +"What do you make of that?" he said, and flattened out the wire +in front of me. + +It ran: "Please come at once. James' mental state dangerous. +Chadd." + +"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." + +"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." + +"It will force us of course," I said, smiling. + +"Oh, yes," he replied; "there is a cab-rank near." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"What," I asked, stamping my foot, "was the extraordinary thing?" + +"The extraordinary thing," said Basil, ringing the bell, "is that +he has not gone mad from excitement." + +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. + +"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." + +Then, with her bleak face looking unmeaningly out of the window, +she continued, in an even and mechanical voice: + +"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." + +Grant smiled slowly and rubbed his hands with a kind of care. + +"Standing on one leg?" I repeated. + +"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. + +"`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." + +"Where is he now?" I said, getting up in some agitation. "We ought +not to leave him alone." + +"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." + +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. + +The second sister had by this time entered the room and came +somewhat drearily to the window. + +"You know, Adelaide," she said, "that Mr Bingham from the Museum is +coming again at three." + +"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." + +Grant suddenly turned round. "What do you mean?" he said. "What +will you have to tell Mr Bingham?" + +"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. + +Basil Grant took out his watch with an abrupt movement. "When did +you say the British Museum man was coming?" he said. + +"Three o'clock," said Miss Chadd briefly. + +"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. + +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?" + +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. + +"Have you converted Dr Colman to your views?" Basil continued, +still in the same loud and lucid tone. + +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." + +Basil answered in the same tone, with great coolness: + +"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." + +The doctor wiped his eyeglass thoughtfully. + +"It is rather dangerous for him," he said, "to be long in the +strong sun without his hat. With his bald head, too." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Mr Bingham, of the British Museum, bowed in a manner that was +respectful but a trifle bewildered. + +"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. + +"Mr Bingham," said Basil, setting a chair for him, "I imagine that +Miss Chadd has told you of this distressing occurrence." + +"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." + +"I have a suggestion to make," said Basil, and sat down abruptly in +his chair, drawing it up to the table. + +"I am delighted, of course," said the gentleman from the British +Museum, coughing and drawing up his chair also. + +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: + +"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 L800 a +year until he stops dancing." + +"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?" + +Grant shook his head resolutely. + +"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 L800 Surely you have some general fund for the endowment of +research." + +Mr Bingham looked bewildered. + +"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?" + +"Not at all," cried Basil, keenly and triumphantly. "I never said +for life. Not at all." + +"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?" + +"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. + +Bingham had by this time fastened his eyes keenly on Basil Grant +and kept them there. + +"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?" + +"Precisely," said Grant composedly. + +"That this absurd payment is not only to run on with the absurd +dancing, but actually to stop with the absurd dancing?" + +"One must stop somewhere," said Grant. "Of course." + +Bingham rose and took up his perfect stick and gloves. + +"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." + +He was stepping towards the door, but Grant's hand, flung out in +dramatic warning, arrested him. + +"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--" + +Bingham cut in sharply: + +"And if I do want this, Mr Grant--" + +"Then," said Basil lightly, "your task is easy. Get Chadd L800 a +year till he stops dancing." + +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. + +"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." + +Bingham looked at him with grave eyes. + +"I was afraid so," he said. "Drink, I imagine." + +"Drink!" echoed Colman, as if that were a much milder affair. "Oh, +no, it's not drink." + +Mr Bingham became somewhat agitated, and his voice grew hurried and +vague. "Homicidal mania--" he began. + +"No, no," said the medical man impatiently. + +"Thinks he's made of glass," said Bingham feverishly, "or says he's +God--or--" + +"No," said Dr Colman sharply; "the fact is, Mr Grant, my discovery +is of a different character. The awful thing about him is--" + +"Oh, go on, sir," cried Bingham, in agony. + +"The awful thing about him is," repeated Colman, with deliberation, +"that he isn't mad." + +"Not mad!" + +"There are quite well-known physical tests of lunacy," said the +doctor shortly; "he hasn't got any of them." + +"But why does he dance?" cried the despairing Bingham. "Why doesn't +he answer us? Why hasn't he spoken to his family?" + +"The devil knows," said Dr Colman coolly. "I'm paid to judge of +lunatics, but not of fools. The man's not mad." + +"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?" + +Grant's voice struck in sudden and clear, like a steel bell: + +"I shall be very happy," he said, "to give him any message you like +to send." + +Both men stared at him. + +"Give him a message?" they cried simultaneously. "How will you give +him a message?" + +Basil smiled in his slow way. + +"If you really want to know how I shall give him your message," he +began, but Bingham cried: + +"Of course, of course," with a sort of frenzy. + +"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. + +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. + +"You drive me to it," he said. "You drive me to betray my friend. +And I will, for his own sake, betray him." + +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. + +Basil let his loose foot fall on the carpet with a crash that +struck them all rigid in their feeble attitudes. + +"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 L800 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." + +Mr Bingham held out his hand cordially. + +"I thank you, Mr Grant," he said. "I hope I shall be able to answer +for the source of the L800 and I fancy that I shall. Will you come +in my cab?" + +"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." + +The conversation between Chadd and Grant appeared to be personal +and friendly. They were still dancing when I left. + + + +Chapter 6 + +The Eccentric Seclusion of the Old Lady + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"My resources are equal to that risk," I said, laughing. "Done." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"What?" I said incredulously, "do you mean to say that you really +did find anything the matter with the poor milkman?" + +His face fell. + +"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--" + +"What did the milkman say and do?" I said, with inexorable +sternness. + +"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--" + +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?" + +His face grew grave. + +"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." + +"Then come along with you," I said, with a certain amicable anger, +"and remember that you owe me half a crown." + +"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." + +"Well?" I said. + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Have you been talking to somebody inside?" I asked suddenly, +turning to Rupert. + +"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?" + +"No, of course not," I replied. + +"Then I recommend you to listen," said Rupert sharply. + +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. + +"Do you know anything about this?" I said, turning upon Rupert very +abruptly. + +"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." + +"My dear fellow," I said, "I apologize; this is no time for +arguing. What is to be done?" + +Rupert Grant had a long clasp-knife naked and brilliant in his hand. + +"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: + +"When shall I get out?" + +"What can all this be?" I said. + +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. + +"Can't you get out, madam?" I said, drawing near the hole in some +perturbation. + +"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--" + +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. + +"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--" + +"Not here," said the small servant, with the incomparable severity +of the menial of the non-philanthropic, and slammed the door in +our faces. + +"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. + +"Well, what do you make of that?" asked Rupert, slapping his +gloves together when we got into the street. + +I do not mind admitting that I was seriously upset. Under such +conditions I had but one thought. + +"Don't you think," I said a trifle timidly, "that we had better +tell your brother?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"Come and pitch into us again," came the laughing voice from out +of the house. "We still have some bones unbroken." + +"Thanks very much, I will--good night," shouted Grant, who had by +this time reached the street. + +"Good night," came the friendly call in reply, before the door +closed. + +"Basil," said Rupert Grant, in a hoarse whisper, "what are we to +do?" + +The elder brother looked thoughtfully from one of us to the other. + +"What is to be done, Basil?" I repeated in uncontrollable +excitement. + +"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." + +We stared blankly. + +"Go to the Court Theatre?" repeated Rupert. "What would be the good +of that?" + +"Good? What do you mean?" answered Basil, staring also. "Have you +turned Puritan or Passive Resister, or something? For fun, of +course." + +"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?" + +Basil's face cleared with immediate comprehension, and he laughed. + +"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." + +"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?" + +Basil laughed heartily. + +"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." + +"How do you know it's all right in this ease?" persisted his +brother angrily. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +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. + +"Basil," I said, taking him firmly by the shoulder, "I simply +won't leave this street and this house." + +"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." + +Basil Grant looked at us both seriously. + +"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." + +"I think," said Rupert darkly, ringing the bell, "that we shall +enlighten you further about their ethics." + +"And may I ask," said Basil gloomily, "what it is that you propose +to do?" + +"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." + +Basil stared indignantly for a few minutes. Then he was shaken for +an instant with one of his sudden laughs. + +"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." + +"I suppose you mean to help us?" said Rupert. + +"Oh, yes, I'll be in it," answered Basil, "if it's only to prevent +your doing the poor chaps any harm." + +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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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." + +"That," said Rupert, with a savage smile, "I can quite believe." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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--" + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +". . . 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. . ." + +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. + +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. + +In the strained silence of our helplessness I heard the voice of +Basil come with a loud incongruous cheerfulness. + +"Now this," he said, "is what I call enjoying oneself." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"This," said Basil, with a radiant face, looking down at his +captive, "this is what we call the survival of the fittest." + +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: + +"Basil, will you mount guard over the captive of your bow and spear +and antimacassar? Swinburne and I will clear out the prison +downstairs." + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +"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. . ." + +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. + +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. + +Rupert stood on the threshold, and called out like a man calling +into an abyss: + +"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." + +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. + +"Has anybody got a match?" said Rupert grimly. "I fancy we have +come pretty near the end of this business." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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: + +"Rescue? Where is Mr Greenwood? Where is Mr Burrows? Did you say +you had rescued me?" + +"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." + +The old lady rose from her chair and came very quickly towards us. + +"What did you say to them? How did you persuade them?" she cried. + +"We persuaded them, my dear madam," said Rupert, laughing, "by +knocking them down and tying them up. But what is the matter?" + +To the surprise of every one the old lady walked slowly back to +her seat by the window. + +"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?" + +"We have," said Rupert proudly; "we have resisted their oppression +and conquered it." + +"Oh, thanks," answered the old lady, and sat down by the window. + +A considerable pause followed. + +"The road is quite clear for you, madam," said Rupert pleasantly. + +The old lady rose, cocking her black eyebrows and her silver crest +at us for an instant. + +"But what about Greenwood and Burrows?" she said. "What did I +understand you to say had become of them?" + +"They are lying on the floor upstairs," said Rupert, chuckling. +"Tied hand and foot." + +"Well, that settles it," said the old lady, coming with a kind of +bang into her seat again, "I must stop where I am." + +Rupert looked bewildered. + +"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?" + +"The question rather is," said the old lady, with composure, "what +power can force me to go anywhere else?" + +We both stared wildly at her and she stared tranquilly at us both. + +At last I said, "Do you really mean to say that we are to leave +you here?" + +"I suppose you don't intend to tie me up," she said, "and carry me +off? I certainly shall not go otherwise." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +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. + +"Why," said the lady, "if you are particularly anxious to do me a +little favour you might untie the gentlemen upstairs." + +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. + +"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. . ." + +"Basil," cried Rupert, gasping, "she won't come out." + +"Who won't come out?" asked Basil, a little cross at being +interrupted in an argument. + +"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." + +"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. + +"A brilliant idea. Swinburne, just undo Mr Greenwood." + +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. + +"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." + +"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. . ." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +The captive made another reverence. "I have never complained of +your injustice," she said. "I need scarcely say what I think of +your generosity." + +And before our staring eyes could blink she had passed out of the +room, Basil holding the door open for her. + +He turned to Greenwood with a relapse into joviality. "This will +be a relief to you," he said. + +"Yes, it will," replied that immovable young gentleman with a face +like a sphinx. + +We found ourselves outside in the dark blue night, shaken and dazed +as if we had fallen into it from some high tower. + +"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?" + +"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. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"The president's not here," said Mr P. G. Northover, turning +suddenly to Professor Chadd. + +"N--no," said the philosopher, with more than his ordinary +vagueness. "I can't imagine where he is." + +"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. + +An instant after he ran back again, twittering with a timid +ecstasy. + +"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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +Something in the atmosphere told me that it was not only Rupert and +I who were listening with intensity to this statement. + +"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." + +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. + +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: + +"Mr P. G. Northover will now explain the Adventure and Romance +Agency." + +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. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext The Club of Queer Trades, by Chesterton + diff --git a/old/tcoqt10.zip b/old/tcoqt10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c61d8a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/tcoqt10.zip diff --git a/old/tcoqt10h.htm b/old/tcoqt10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5f1c97 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/tcoqt10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8758 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>The Club of Queer Trades</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Club of Queer Trades, by G.K.Chesterton + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Club of Queer Trades + +Author: G.K.Chesterton + +Release Date: April, 1999 [EBook #1696] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 6, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLUB OF QUEER TRADES *** + + + + +This HTM version was produced by Walter Debeuf + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h2>The Club of Queer Trades</h2> + +<h3>by G.K.Chesterton</h3> + +<h2><br> + Chapter 1</h2> + +<h3>The Tremendous Adventures of Major Brown</h3> + +<p>Rabelais, or his wild illustrator Gustave Dore, must have +had<br> + something to do with the designing of the things called flats +in<br> + England and America. There is something entirely Gargantuan in +the<br> + idea of economising space by piling houses on top of each +other,<br> + front doors and all. And in the chaos and complexity of +those<br> + perpendicular streets anything may dwell or happen, and it is +in<br> + one of them, I believe, that the inquirer may find the offices +of<br> + the Club of Queer Trades. It may be thought at the first +glance<br> + that the name would attract and startle the passer-by, but +nothing<br> + attracts or startles in these dim immense hives. The passer-by +is<br> + only looking for his own melancholy destination, the +Montenegro<br> + Shipping Agency or the London office of the Rutland Sentinel, +and<br> + passes through the twilight passages as one passes through +the<br> + twilight corridors of a dream. If the Thugs set up a +Strangers'<br> + Assassination Company in one of the great buildings in +Norfolk<br> + Street, and sent in a mild man in spectacles to answer +inquiries,<br> + no inquiries would be made. And the Club of Queer Trades reigns +in<br> + a great edifice hidden like a fossil in a mighty cliff of +fossils.</p> + +<p><br> + The nature of this society, such as we afterwards discovered it +to<br> + be, is soon and simply told. It is an eccentric and Bohemian +Club,<br> + of which the absolute condition of membership lies in this, +that<br> + the candidate must have invented the method by which he earns +his<br> + living. It must be an entirely new trade. The exact definition +of<br> + this requirement is given in the two principal rules. First, +it<br> + must not be a mere application or variation of an existing +trade.<br> + Thus, for instance, the Club would not admit an insurance +agent<br> + simply because instead of insuring men's furniture against +being<br> + burnt in a fire, he insured, let us say, their trousers +against<br> + being torn by a mad dog. The principle (as Sir Bradcock<br> + Burnaby-Bradcock, in the extraordinarily eloquent and +soaring<br> + speech to the club on the occasion of the question being raised +in<br> + the Stormby Smith affair, said wittily and keenly) is the +same.<br> + Secondly, the trade must be a genuine commercial source of +income,<br> + the support of its inventor. Thus the Club would not receive a +man<br> + simply because he chose to pass his days collecting broken +sardine<br> + tins, unless he could drive a roaring trade in them. +Professor<br> + Chick made that quite clear. And when one remembers what +Professor<br> + Chick's own new trade was, one doesn't know whether to laugh +or<br> + cry.</p> + +<p>The discovery of this strange society was a curiously +refreshing<br> + thing; to realize that there were ten new trades in the world +was<br> + like looking at the first ship or the first plough. It made a +man<br> + feel what he should feel, that he was still in the childhood +of<br> + the world. That I should have come at last upon so singular a +body<br> + was, I may say without vanity, not altogether singular, for I +have<br> + a mania for belonging to as many societies as possible: I may +be<br> + said to collect clubs, and I have accumulated a vast and +fantastic<br> + variety of specimens ever since, in my audacious youth, I<br> + collected the Athenaeum. At some future day, perhaps, I may +tell<br> + tales of some of the other bodies to which I have belonged. I +will<br> + recount the doings of the Dead Man's Shoes Society (that<br> + superficially immoral, but darkly justifiable communion); I +will<br> + explain the curious origin of the Cat and Christian, the name +of<br> + which has been so shamefully misinterpreted; and the world +shall<br> + know at last why the Institute of Typewriters coalesced with +the<br> + Red Tulip League. Of the Ten Teacups, of course I dare not say +a<br> + word. The first of my revelations, at any rate, shall be +concerned<br> + with the Club of Queer Trades, which, as I have said, was one +of<br> + this class, one which I was almost bound to come across sooner +or<br> + later, because of my singular hobby. The wild youth of the<br> + metropolis call me facetiously `The King of Clubs'. They also +call<br> + me `The Cherub', in allusion to the roseate and youthful<br> + appearance I have presented in my declining years. I only hope +the<br> + spirits in the better world have as good dinners as I have. +But<br> + the finding of the Club of Queer Trades has one very curious +thing<br> + about it. The most curious thing about it is that it was not<br> + discovered by me; it was discovered by my friend Basil Grant, +a<br> + star-gazer, a mystic, and a man who scarcely stirred out of +his<br> + attic.</p> + +<p>Very few people knew anything of Basil; not because he was in +the<br> + least unsociable, for if a man out of the street had walked +into<br> + his rooms he would have kept him talking till morning. Few +people<br> + knew him, because, like all poets, he could do without them; +he<br> + welcomed a human face as he might welcome a sudden blend of +colour<br> + in a sunset; but he no more felt the need of going out to +parties<br> + than he felt the need of altering the sunset clouds. He lived in +a<br> + queer and comfortable garret in the roofs of Lambeth. He was<br> + surrounded by a chaos of things that were in odd contrast to +the<br> + slums around him; old fantastic books, swords, armour--the +whole<br> + dust-hole of romanticism. But his face, amid all these +quixotic<br> + relics, appeared curiously keen and modern--a powerful, +legal<br> + face. And no one but I knew who he was.</p> + +<p>Long ago as it is, everyone remembers the terrible and +grotesque<br> + scene that occurred in--, when one of the most acute and +forcible<br> + of the English judges suddenly went mad on the bench. I had my +own<br> + view of that occurrence; but about the facts themselves there +is<br> + no question at all. For some months, indeed for some years, +people<br> + had detected something curious in the judge's conduct. He +seemed<br> + to have lost interest in the law, in which he had been +beyond<br> + expression brilliant and terrible as a K.C., and to be occupied +in<br> + giving personal and moral advice to the people concerned. He<br> + talked more like a priest or a doctor, and a very outspoken one +at<br> + that. The first thrill was probably given when he said to a +man<br> + who had attempted a crime of passion: "I sentence you to +three<br> + years imprisonment, under the firm, and solemn, and +God-given<br> + conviction, that what you require is three months at the +seaside."<br> + He accused criminals from the bench, not so much of their +obvious<br> + legal crimes, but of things that had never been heard of in +a<br> + court of justice, monstrous egoism, lack of humour, and +morbidity<br> + deliberately encouraged. Things came to a head in that +celebrated<br> + diamond case in which the Prime Minister himself, that +brilliant<br> + patrician, had to come forward, gracefully and reluctantly, +to<br> + give evidence against his valet. After the detailed life of +the<br> + household had been thoroughly exhibited, the judge requested +the<br> + Premier again to step forward, which he did with quiet +dignity.<br> + The judge then said, in a sudden, grating voice: "Get a new +soul.<br> + That thing's not fit for a dog. Get a new soul." All this, +of<br> + course, in the eyes of the sagacious, was premonitory of +that<br> + melancholy and farcical day when his wits actually deserted +him<br> + in open court. It was a libel case between two very eminent +and<br> + powerful financiers, against both of whom charges of +considerable<br> + defalcation were brought. The case was long and complex; the<br> + advocates were long and eloquent; but at last, after weeks +of<br> + work and rhetoric, the time came for the great judge to give +a<br> + summing-up; and one of his celebrated masterpieces of +lucidity<br> + and pulverizing logic was eagerly looked for. He had spoken +very<br> + little during the prolonged affair, and he looked sad and +lowering<br> + at the end of it. He was silent for a few moments, and then +burst<br> + into a stentorian song. His remarks (as reported) were as +follows:</p> + +<p>"O Rowty-owty tiddly-owty Tiddly-owty tiddly-owty +Highty-ighty<br> + 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<br> + that gorgeous Burgundy which he kept behind a pile of +black-letter<br> + folios; he was striding about the room, fingering, after a habit +of<br> + his, one of the great swords in his collection; the red glare +of<br> + the strong fire struck his square features and his fierce +grey<br> + hair; his blue eyes were even unusually full of dreams, and he +had<br> + opened his mouth to speak dreamily, when the door was flung +open,<br> + and a pale, fiery man, with red hair and a huge furred +overcoat,<br> + swung himself panting into the room.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to bother you, Basil," he gasped. "I took a +liberty--made an<br> + appointment here with a man--a client--in five minutes--I beg +your<br> + 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<br> + practical brother. This is Rupert Grant, Esquire, who can and +does<br> + all there is to be done. Just as I was a failure at one thing, +he<br> + is a success at everything. I remember him as a journalist, +a<br> + house-agent, a naturalist, an inventor, a publisher, a<br> + schoolmaster, a--what are you now, Rupert?"</p> + +<p>"I am and have been for some time," said Rupert, with some +dignity,<br> + "a private detective, and there's my client."</p> + +<p>A loud rap at the door had cut him short, and, on permission +being<br> + given, the door was thrown sharply open and a stout, dapper +man<br> + walked swiftly into the room, set his silk hat with a clap on +the<br> + table, and said, "Good evening, gentlemen," with a stress on +the<br> + last syllable that somehow marked him out as a martinet, +military,<br> + literary and social. He had a large head streaked with black +and<br> + grey, and an abrupt black moustache, which gave him a look +of<br> + fierceness which was contradicted by his sad sea-blue eyes.</p> + +<p>Basil immediately said to me, "Let us come into the next +room,<br> + 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<br> + Major Brown I had met years before in Basil's society. I had<br> + forgotten altogether the black dandified figure and the +large<br> + solemn head, but I remembered the peculiar speech, which +consisted<br> + of only saying about a quarter of each sentence, and that +sharply,<br> + like the crack of a gun. I do not know, it may have come +from<br> + giving orders to troops.</p> + +<p>Major Brown was a V.C., and an able and distinguished soldier, +but<br> + he was anything but a warlike person. Like many among the iron +men<br> + who recovered British India, he was a man with the natural +beliefs<br> + and tastes of an old maid. In his dress he was dapper and +yet<br> + demure; in his habits he was precise to the point of the +exact<br> + adjustment of a tea-cup. One enthusiasm he had, which was of +the<br> + nature of a religion--the cultivation of pansies. And when +he<br> + talked about his collection, his blue eyes glittered like a +child's<br> + at a new toy, the eyes that had remained untroubled when the +troops<br> + were roaring victory round Roberts at Candahar.</p> + +<p>"Well, Major," said Rupert Grant, with a lordly +heartiness,<br> + flinging himself into a chair, "what is the matter with +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yellow pansies. Coal-cellar. P. G. Northover," said the +Major,<br> + with righteous indignation.</p> + +<p>We glanced at each other with inquisitiveness. Basil, who had +his<br> + 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.<br> + Something. Preposterous."</p> + +<p>We shook our heads gently. Bit by bit, and mainly by the +seemingly<br> + sleepy assistance of Basil Grant, we pieced together the +Major's<br> + fragmentary, but excited narration. It would be infamous to +submit<br> + the reader to what we endured; therefore I will tell the story +of<br> + Major Brown in my own words. But the reader must imagine the<br> + scene. The eyes of Basil closed as in a trance, after his +habit,<br> + and the eyes of Rupert and myself getting rounder and rounder +as<br> + we listened to one of the most astounding stories in the +world,<br> + from the lips of the little man in black, sitting bolt upright +in<br> + his chair and talking like a telegram.</p> + +<p>Major Brown was, I have said, a successful soldier, but by +no<br> + means an enthusiastic one. So far from regretting his +retirement<br> + on half-pay, it was with delight that he took a small neat +villa,<br> + very like a doll's house, and devoted the rest of his life +to<br> + pansies and weak tea. The thought that battles were over when +he<br> + had once hung up his sword in the little front hall (along +with<br> + two patent stew-pots and a bad water-colour), and betaken +himself<br> + instead to wielding the rake in his little sunlit garden, was +to<br> + him like having come into a harbour in heaven. He was +Dutch-like<br> + and precise in his taste in gardening, and had, perhaps, +some<br> + tendency to drill his flowers like soldiers. He was one of +those<br> + men who are capable of putting four umbrellas in the stand +rather<br> + than three, so that two may lean one way and two another; he +saw<br> + life like a pattern in a freehand drawing-book. And assuredly +he<br> + would not have believed, or even understood, any one who had +told<br> + him that within a few yards of his brick paradise he was +destined<br> + to be caught in a whirlpool of incredible adventure, such as +he<br> + had never seen or dreamed of in the horrible jungle, or the +heat<br> + of battle.</p> + +<p>One certain bright and windy afternoon, the Major, attired in +his<br> + usual faultless manner, had set out for his usual +constitutional.<br> + In crossing from one great residential thoroughfare to another, +he<br> + happened to pass along one of those aimless-looking lanes which +lie<br> + along the back-garden walls of a row of mansions, and which +in<br> + their empty and discoloured appearance give one an odd sensation +as<br> + of being behind the scenes of a theatre. But mean and sulky as +the<br> + scene might be in the eyes of most of us, it was not altogether +so<br> + in the Major's, for along the coarse gravel footway was coming +a<br> + thing which was to him what the passing of a religious +procession<br> + is to a devout person. A large, heavy man, with fish-blue eyes +and<br> + a ring of irradiating red beard, was pushing before him a +barrow,<br> + which was ablaze with incomparable flowers. There were +splendid<br> + specimens of almost every order, but the Major's own +favourite<br> + pansies predominated. The Major stopped and fell into +conversation,<br> + and then into bargaining. He treated the man after the manner +of<br> + collectors and other mad men, that is to say, he carefully and +with<br> + a sort of anguish selected the best roots from the less +excellent,<br> + praised some, disparaged others, made a subtle scale ranging +from a<br> + thrilling worth and rarity to a degraded insignificance, and +then<br> + bought them all. The man was just pushing off his barrow when +he<br> + stopped and came close to the Major.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what, sir," he said. "If you're interested in +them<br> + things, you just get on to that wall."</p> + +<p>"On the wall!" cried the scandalised Major, whose conventional +soul<br> + quailed within him at the thought of such fantastic +trespass.</p> + +<p>"Finest show of yellow pansies in England in that there +garden,<br> + sir," hissed the tempter. "I'll help you up, sir."</p> + +<p>How it happened no one will ever know but that positive +enthusiasm<br> + of the Major's life triumphed over all its negative +traditions,<br> + and with an easy leap and swing that showed that he was in no +need<br> + of physical assistance, he stood on the wall at the end of +the<br> + strange garden. The second after, the flapping of the +frock-coat<br> + at his knees made him feel inexpressibly a fool. But the +next<br> + instant all such trifling sentiments were swallowed up by the +most<br> + appalling shock of surprise the old soldier had ever felt in +all<br> + his bold and wandering existence. His eyes fell upon the +garden,<br> + and there across a large bed in the centre of the lawn was a +vast<br> + pattern of pansies; they were splendid flowers, but for once +it<br> + was not their horticultural aspects that Major Brown beheld, +for<br> + the pansies were arranged in gigantic capital letters so as +to<br> + form the sentence:</p> + +<h3>DEATH TO MAJOR BROWN</h3> + +<p>A kindly looking old man, with white whiskers, was watering +them.<br> + Brown looked sharply back at the road behind him; the man with +the<br> + barrow had suddenly vanished. Then he looked again at the +lawn<br> + with its incredible inscription. Another man might have thought +he<br> + had gone mad, but Brown did not. When romantic ladies gushed +over<br> + his V.C. and his military exploits, he sometimes felt himself +to<br> + be a painfully prosaic person, but by the same token he knew +he<br> + was incurably sane. Another man, again, might have thought +himself<br> + a victim of a passing practical joke, but Brown could not +easily<br> + believe this. He knew from his own quaint learning that the +garden<br> + arrangement was an elaborate and expensive one; he thought +it<br> + extravagantly improbable that any one would pour out money +like<br> + water for a joke against him. Having no explanation whatever +to<br> + offer, he admitted the fact to himself, like a clear-headed +man,<br> + and waited as he would have done in the presence of a man with +six<br> + legs.</p> + +<p><br> + At this moment the stout old man with white whiskers looked up, +and<br> + the watering can fell from his hand, shooting a swirl of water +down<br> + 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<br> + the hour of action.</p> + +<p>The old man gaped helplessly like some monstrous fish. At last +he<br> + stammered wildly, "Come down--come down here!"</p> + +<p>"At your service," said the Major, and alighted at a bound on +the<br> + 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<br> + run towards the house, followed with swift steps by the Major. +His<br> + guide led him through the back passages of a gloomy, but +gorgeously<br> + appointed house, until they reached the door of the front +room.<br> + Then the old man turned with a face of apoplectic terror +dimly<br> + 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,<br> + and ran downstairs with a clatter.</p> + +<p>The Major stepped into a rich, glowing room, full of red +copper,<br> + and peacock and purple hangings, hat in hand. He had the +finest<br> + manners in the world, and, though mystified, was not in the +least<br> + embarrassed to see that the only occupant was a lady, sitting +by<br> + 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<br> + flavour of Bedford Park. "You have come, I suppose," she +said<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + describe the effect produced on the mind by that quiet and +sunny<br> + garden scene, the frame for a stunning and brutal +personality.<br> + The evening air was still, and the grass was golden in the +place<br> + where the little flowers he studied cried to heaven for his<br> + blood.</p> + +<p>"You know I must not turn round," said the lady; "every +afternoon<br> + 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<br> + resolute to accept these outrageous riddles without +surprise.</p> + +<p>"It is almost six," he said; and even as he spoke the +barbaric<br> + copper clock upon the wall clanged the first stroke of the +hour.<br> + At the sixth the lady sprang up and turned on the Major one +of<br> + the queerest and yet most attractive faces he had ever seen +in<br> + 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<br> + anniversary. The waiting almost makes one wish the frightful +thing<br> + would happen once and for all."</p> + +<p>And even as she spoke, a sudden rending cry broke the +stillness.<br> + From low down on the pavement of the dim street (it was +already<br> + twilight) a voice cried out with a raucous and merciless<br> + 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<br> + door and looked out. There was no sign of life in the blue +gloaming<br> + of the street, where one or two lamps were beginning to light +their<br> + 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<br> + both of us. Whenever--"</p> + +<p>But even as she spoke her speech was cloven by another +hoarse<br> + 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<br> + frustrated; there was no figure in sight, and the street was +far<br> + too long and empty for the shouter to have run away. Even +the<br> + rational Major was a little shaken as he returned in a certain +time<br> + to the drawing-room. Scarcely had he done so than the +terrific<br> + 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<br> + time to see something which at first glance froze the blood. +The<br> + cries appeared to come from a decapitated head resting on +the<br> + pavement.</p> + +<p>The next moment the pale Major understood. It was the head of +a<br> + man thrust through the coal-hole in the street. The next +moment,<br> + again, it had vanished, and Major Brown turned to the lady.<br> + "Where's your coal-cellar?" he said, and stepped out into +the<br> + passage.</p> + +<p>She looked at him with wild grey eyes. "You will not go down," +she<br> + cried, "alone, into the dark hole, with that beast?"</p> + +<p>"Is this the way?" replied Brown, and descended the kitchen +stairs<br> + three at a time. He flung open the door of a black cavity +and<br> + stepped in, feeling in his pocket for matches. As his right +hand<br> + was thus occupied, a pair of great slimy hands came out of +the<br> + darkness, hands clearly belonging to a man of gigantic +stature,<br> + and seized him by the back of the head. They forced him down, +down<br> + in the suffocating darkness, a brutal image of destiny. But +the<br> + Major's head, though upside down, was perfectly clear and<br> + intellectual. He gave quietly under the pressure until he had +slid<br> + down almost to his hands and knees. Then finding the knees of +the<br> + invisible monster within a foot of him, he simply put out one +of<br> + his long, bony, and skilful hands, and gripping the leg by a<br> + muscle pulled it off the ground and laid the huge living man, +with<br> + a crash, along the floor. He strove to rise, but Brown was on +top<br> + like a cat. They rolled over and over. Big as the man was, he +had<br> + evidently now no desire but to escape; he made sprawls hither +and<br> + thither to get past the Major to the door, but that +tenacious<br> + person had him hard by the coat collar and hung with the +other<br> + hand to a beam. At length there came a strain in holding back +this<br> + human bull, a strain under which Brown expected his hand to +rend<br> + and part from the arm. But something else rent and parted; and +the<br> + dim fat figure of the giant vanished out of the cellar, +leaving<br> + the torn coat in the Major's hand; the only fruit of his +adventure<br> + and the only clue to the mystery. For when he went up and out +at<br> + the front door, the lady, the rich hangings, and the whole<br> + equipment of the house had disappeared. It had only bare +boards<br> + and whitewashed walls.</p> + +<p>"The lady was in the conspiracy, of course," said Rupert, +nodding.<br> + Major Brown turned brick red. "I beg your pardon," he said, +"I<br> + think not."</p> + +<p>Rupert raised his eyebrows and looked at him for a moment, but +said<br> + 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,"<br> + said the Major carefully; "there was a cigarette-holder, a piece +of<br> + string, and this letter," and he laid it on the table. It ran +as<br> + follows:</p> + +<p>Dear Mr Plover,</p> + +<p>I am annoyed to hear that some delay has occurred in the<br> + arrangements re Major Brown. Please see that he is attacked +as<br> + 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<br> + cut in:</p> + +<p>"Is it dated from anywhere?"</p> + +<p>"No--oh, yes!" replied Brown, glancing upon the paper; "14 +Tanner's<br> + 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<br> + revolver."</p> + +<p>Basil was staring into the embers like a man in a trance; and +it<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + a harmless stranger in a coal-cellar may strike you as a +very<br> + blameless experiment, but--"</p> + +<p>"Do you think they wanted to strangle the Major?" asked Basil, +in<br> + 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<br> + a matter of fact, he was looking at the fire. "I don't think +it's<br> + the sort of letter one criminal would write to another."</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, you are glorious," cried Rupert, turning round, +with<br> + laughter in his blue bright eyes. "Your methods amaze me. +Why,<br> + there is the letter. It is written, and it does give orders for +a<br> + crime. You might as well say that the Nelson Column was not at +all<br> + the sort of thing that was likely to be set up in Trafalgar<br> + Square."</p> + +<p>Basil Grant shook all over with a sort of silent laughter, but +did<br> + not otherwise move.</p> + +<p>"That's rather good," he said; "but, of course, logic like +that's<br> + not what is really wanted. It's a question of spiritual +atmosphere.<br> + It's not a criminal letter."</p> + +<p>"It is. It's a matter of fact," cried the other in an agony +of<br> + reasonableness.</p> + +<p>"Facts," murmured Basil, like one mentioning some strange, +far-off<br> + animals, "how facts obscure the truth. I may be silly--in +fact,<br> + I'm off my head--but I never could believe in that man--what's +his<br> + name, in those capital stories?--Sherlock Holmes. Every +detail<br> + points to something, certainly; but generally to the wrong +thing.<br> + Facts point in all directions, it seems to me, like the +thousands<br> + of twigs on a tree. It's only the life of the tree that has +unity<br> + and goes up--only the green blood that springs, like a +fountain,<br> + 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<br> + can be an infinity of things. I haven't seen any of +them--I've<br> + 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<br> + collecting his thoughts in a humble and even painful way. Then +he<br> + said:</p> + +<p>"Suppose you went out into the moonlight. Suppose you +passed<br> + through silent, silvery streets and squares until you came into +an<br> + open and deserted space, set with a few monuments, and you +beheld<br> + one dressed as a ballet girl dancing in the argent glimmer. +And<br> + suppose you looked, and saw it was a man disguised. And +suppose<br> + you looked again, and saw it was Lord Kitchener. What would +you<br> + think?"</p> + +<p>He paused a moment, and went on:</p> + +<p>"You could not adopt the ordinary explanation. The +ordinary<br> + explanation of putting on singular clothes is that you look +nice<br> + in them; you would not think that Lord Kitchener dressed up like +a<br> + ballet girl out of ordinary personal vanity. You would think +it<br> + much more likely that he inherited a dancing madness from a +great<br> + grandmother; or had been hypnotised at a seance; or threatened +by<br> + a secret society with death if he refused the ordeal. With<br> + Baden-Powell, say, it might be a bet--but not with Kitchener. +I<br> + should know all that, because in my public days I knew him +quite<br> + well. So I know that letter quite well, and criminals quite +well.<br> + It's not a criminal's letter. It's all atmospheres." And he +closed<br> + his eyes and passed his hand over his forehead.</p> + +<p>Rupert and the Major were regarding him with a mixture of +respect<br> + and pity. The former said</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm going, anyhow, and shall continue to think--until +your<br> + spiritual mystery turns up--that a man who sends a note<br> + recommending a crime, that is, actually a crime that is +actually<br> + carried out, at least tentatively, is, in all probability, a<br> + little casual in his moral tastes. Can I have that +revolver?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Basil, getting up. "But I am coming with +you."<br> + And he flung an old cape or cloak round him, and took a<br> + sword-stick from the corner.</p> + +<p>"You!" said Rupert, with some surprise, "you scarcely ever +leave<br> + 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<br> + arrogance, "hear of anything on the face of the earth that I +do<br> + 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<br> + Bridge, and along the Embankment in the direction of that part +of<br> + Fleet Street which contained Tanner's Court. The erect, +black<br> + figure of Major Brown, seen from behind, was a quaint contrast +to<br> + the hound-like stoop and flapping mantle of young Rupert Grant, +who<br> + adopted, with childlike delight, all the dramatic poses of +the<br> + detective of fiction. The finest among his many fine qualities +was<br> + his boyish appetite for the colour and poetry of London. Basil, +who<br> + walked behind, with his face turned blindly to the stars, had +the<br> + look of a somnambulist.</p> + +<p>Rupert paused at the corner of Tanner's Court, with a quiver +of<br> + delight at danger, and gripped Basil's revolver in his +great-coat<br> + pocket.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go in now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not get police?" asked Major Brown, glancing sharply up and +down<br> + the street.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure," answered Rupert, knitting his brows. "Of +course,<br> + it's quite clear, the thing's all crooked. But there are three +of<br> + us, and--"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't get the police," said Basil in a queer voice. +Rupert<br> + glanced at him and stared hard.</p> + +<p>"Basil," he cried, "you're trembling. What's the matter--are +you<br> + afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Cold, perhaps," said the Major, eyeing him. There was no +doubt<br> + 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,<br> + shaky laugh of yours. What the deuce is the amusement, +Basil?<br> + Here we are, all three of us, within a yard of a den of<br> + ruffians--"</p> + +<p>"But I shouldn't call the police," said Basil. "We four +heroes<br> + are quite equal to a host," and he continued to quake with +his<br> + mysterious mirth.</p> + +<p>Rupert turned with impatience and strode swiftly down the +court,<br> + the rest of us following. When he reached the door of No. 14 +he<br> + turned abruptly, the revolver glittering in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Stand close," he said in the voice of a commander. "The +scoundrel<br> + may be attempting an escape at this moment. We must fling open +the<br> + door and rush in."</p> + +<p>The four of us cowered instantly under the archway, rigid, +except<br> + for the old judge and his convulsion of merriment.</p> + +<p>"Now," hissed Rupert Grant, turning his pale face and burning +eyes<br> + suddenly over his shoulder, "when I say `Four', follow me with +a<br> + rush. If I say `Hold him', pin the fellows down, whoever they +are.<br> + If I say `Stop', stop. I shall say that if there are more +than<br> + three. If they attack us I shall empty my revolver on them. +Basil,<br> + 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<br> + the room like an invasion, only to stop dead.</p> + +<p>The room, which was an ordinary and neatly appointed +office,<br> + appeared, at the first glance, to be empty. But on a second +and<br> + more careful glance, we saw seated behind a very large desk +with<br> + pigeonholes and drawers of bewildering multiplicity, a small +man<br> + with a black waxed moustache, and the air of a very average +clerk,<br> + 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<br> + hear. What can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>There was a doubtful pause, and then, by general consent, the +Major<br> + 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<br> + his face, "that this letter was written by you." And with a +loud<br> + clap he struck open the letter on the desk with his clenched +fist.<br> + The man called Northover looked at it with unaffected interest +and<br> + 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<br> + me?"</p> + +<p>"Say!" cried the Major, loosing a sudden tempest; "why, I want +this<br> + confounded thing settled. I want--"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," said Northover, jumping up with a slight<br> + elevation of the eyebrows. "Will you take a chair for a +moment."<br> + And he pressed an electric bell just above him, which thrilled +and<br> + tinkled in a room beyond. The Major put his hand on the back of +the<br> + chair offered him, but stood chafing and beating the floor with +his<br> + polished boot.</p> + +<p>The next moment an inner glass door was opened, and a fair, +weedy,<br> + young man, in a frock-coat, entered from within.</p> + +<p>"Mr Hopson," said Northover, "this is Major Brown. Will you +please<br> + 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<br> + his radiant smile, "if I continue to work until Mr Hopson is +ready.<br> + I have some books that must be cleared up before I get away on +my<br> + holiday tomorrow. And we all like a whiff of the country, don't +we?<br> + Ha! ha!"</p> + +<p>The criminal took up his pen with a childlike laugh, and a<br> + silence ensued; a placid and busy silence on the part of Mr P. +G.<br> + Northover; a raging silence on the part of everybody else.</p> + +<p>At length the scratching of Northover's pen in the stillness +was<br> + mingled with a knock at the door, almost simultaneous with +the<br> + turning of the handle, and Mr Hopson came in again with the +same<br> + silent rapidity, placed a paper before his principal, and<br> + disappeared again.</p> + +<p>The man at the desk pulled and twisted his spiky moustache for +a<br> + few moments as he ran his eye up and down the paper presented +to<br> + him. He took up his pen, with a slight, instantaneous frown, +and<br> + altered something, muttering--"Careless." Then he read it +again<br> + with the same impenetrable reflectiveness, and finally handed +it<br> + to the frantic Brown, whose hand was beating the devil's +tattoo<br> + 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<br> + appear later, but he found it like this:</p> + +<p>Major Brown to P. G. Northover. L s. d.<br> + January 1, to account rendered 5 6 0<br> + May 9, to potting and embedding of zoo pansies 2 0 0<br> + To cost of trolley with flowers 0 15 0<br> + To hiring of man with trolley 0 5 0<br> + To hire of house and garden for one day 1 0 0<br> + To furnishing of room in peacock curtains, copper ornaments, +etc. 3 0 0<br> + To salary of Miss Jameson 1 0 0<br> + To salary of Mr Plover 1 0 0<br> + ----------<br> + Total L14 6 0<br> + A Remittance will oblige.</p> + +<p><br> + "What," said Brown, after a dead pause, and with eyes that +seemed<br> + slowly rising out of his head, "What in heaven's name is +this?"</p> + +<p>"What is it?" repeated Northover, cocking his eyebrow with<br> + amusement. "It's your account, of course."</p> + +<p>"My account!" The Major's ideas appeared to be in a vague +stampede.<br> + "My account! And what have I got to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Northover, laughing outright, "naturally I prefer +you<br> + to pay it."</p> + +<p>The Major's hand was still resting on the back of the chair as +the<br> + words came. He scarcely stirred otherwise, but he lifted the +chair<br> + bodily into the air with one hand and hurled it at +Northover's<br> + head.</p> + +<p>The legs crashed against the desk, so that Northover only got +a<br> + blow on the elbow as he sprang up with clenched fists, only to +be<br> + seized by the united rush of the rest of us. The chair had +fallen<br> + 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<br> + is excusable. The abominable crime you have attempted--"</p> + +<p>"A customer has a perfect right," said Northover hotly, +"to<br> + question an alleged overcharge, but, confound it all, not to +throw<br> + furniture."</p> + +<p>"What, in God's name, do you mean by your customers and<br> + overcharges?" shrieked Major Brown, whose keen feminine +nature,<br> + steady in pain or danger, became almost hysterical in the +presence<br> + of a long and exasperating mystery. "Who are you? I've never +seen<br> + you or your insolent tomfool bills. I know one of your +cursed<br> + brutes tried to choke me--"</p> + +<p>"Mad," said Northover, gazing blankly round; "all of them mad. +I<br> + didn't know they travelled in quartettes."</p> + +<p>"Enough of this prevarication," said Rupert; "your crimes +are<br> + discovered. A policeman is stationed at the corner of the +court.<br> + Though only a private detective myself, I will take the<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + brow, as he traced a pattern in the dust with his +sword-stick,<br> + "can you tell me what was the name of the man who lived in +your<br> + house before you?"</p> + +<p>The unhappy Major was only faintly more disturbed by this last +and<br> + futile irrelevancy, and he answered vaguely:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so; a man named Gurney something--a name with +a<br> + hyphen--Gurney-Brown; that was it."</p> + +<p>"And when did the house change hands?" said Basil, looking +up<br> + 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<br> + great office chair and shouted with a volleying laughter.</p> + +<p>"Oh! it's too perfect--it's too exquisite," he gasped, beating +the<br> + arms with his fists. He was laughing deafeningly; Basil Grant +was<br> + laughing voicelessly; and the rest of us only felt that our +heads<br> + were like weathercocks in a whirlwind.</p> + +<p>"Confound it, Basil," said Rupert, stamping. "If you don't +want me<br> + to go mad and blow your metaphysical brains out, tell me what +all<br> + this means."</p> + +<p>Northover rose.</p> + +<p>"Permit me, sir, to explain," he said. "And, first of all, +permit<br> + me to apologize to you, Major Brown, for a most abominable +and<br> + unpardonable blunder, which has caused you menace and<br> + inconvenience, in which, if you will allow me to say so, you +have<br> + behaved with astonishing courage and dignity. Of course you +need<br> + not trouble about the bill. We will stand the loss." And, +tearing<br> + the paper across, he flung the halves into the waste-paper +basket<br> + and bowed.</p> + +<p>Poor Brown's face was still a picture of distraction. "But I +don't<br> + even begin to understand," he cried. "What bill? what +blunder?<br> + what loss?"</p> + +<p>Mr P. G. Northover advanced in the centre of the room,<br> + thoughtfully, and with a great deal of unconscious dignity. +On<br> + closer consideration, there were apparent about him other +things<br> + beside a screwed moustache, especially a lean, sallow face,<br> + hawk-like, and not without a careworn intelligence. Then he +looked<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + his dark eyes on the other's face.</p> + +<p>"Major," said he, "did you ever, as you walked along the +empty<br> + street upon some idle afternoon, feel the utter hunger for<br> + something to happen--something, in the splendid words of +Walt<br> + Whitman: `Something pernicious and dread; something far +removed<br> + from a puny and pious life; something unproved; something in +a<br> + trance; something loosed from its anchorage, and driving +free.'<br> + 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,<br> + with a sigh. "The Adventure and Romance Agency has been started +to<br> + meet a great modern desire. On every side, in conversation and +in<br> + literature, we hear of the desire for a larger theatre of +events<br> + for something to waylay us and lead us splendidly astray. Now +the<br> + man who feels this desire for a varied life pays a yearly or +a<br> + quarterly sum to the Adventure and Romance Agency; in return, +the<br> + Adventure and Romance Agency undertakes to surround him with<br> + startling and weird events. As a man is leaving his front door, +an<br> + excited sweep approaches him and assures him of a plot against +his<br> + life; he gets into a cab, and is driven to an opium den; he<br> + receives a mysterious telegram or a dramatic visit, and is<br> + immediately in a vortex of incidents. A very picturesque and +moving<br> + story is first written by one of the staff of distinguished<br> + novelists who are at present hard at work in the adjoining +room.<br> + Yours, Major Brown (designed by our Mr Grigsby), I consider<br> + peculiarly forcible and pointed; it is almost a pity you did +not<br> + see the end of it. I need scarcely explain further the +monstrous<br> + mistake. Your predecessor in your present house, Mr +Gurney-Brown,<br> + was a subscriber to our agency, and our foolish clerks, +ignoring<br> + alike the dignity of the hyphen and the glory of military +rank,<br> + positively imagined that Major Brown and Mr Gurney-Brown were +the<br> + same person. Thus you were suddenly hurled into the middle +of<br> + another man's story."</p> + +<p>"How on earth does the thing work?" asked Rupert Grant, with +bright<br> + and fascinated eyes.</p> + +<p>"We believe that we are doing a noble work," said +Northover<br> + warmly. "It has continually struck us that there is no element +in<br> + modern life that is more lamentable than the fact that the +modern<br> + man has to seek all artistic existence in a sedentary state. If +he<br> + wishes to float into fairyland, he reads a book; if he wishes +to<br> + dash into the thick of battle, he reads a book; if he wishes +to<br> + soar into heaven, he reads a book; if he wishes to slide down +the<br> + banisters, he reads a book. We give him these visions, but we +give<br> + him exercise at the same time, the necessity of leaping from +wall<br> + to wall, of fighting strange gentlemen, of running down long<br> + streets from pursuers--all healthy and pleasant exercises. We +give<br> + him a glimpse of that great morning world of Robin Hood or +the<br> + Knights Errant, when one great game was played under the +splendid<br> + sky. We give him back his childhood, that godlike time when we +can<br> + act stories, be our own heroes, and at the same instant dance +and<br> + dream."</p> + +<p>Basil gazed at him curiously. The most singular +psychological<br> + discovery had been reserved to the end, for as the little +business<br> + man ceased speaking he had the blazing eyes of a fanatic.</p> + +<p>Major Brown received the explanation with complete simplicity +and<br> + good humour.</p> + +<p>"Of course; awfully dense, sir," he said. "No doubt at all, +the<br> + scheme excellent. But I don't think--" He paused a moment, +and<br> + looked dreamily out of the window. "I don't think you will find +me<br> + in it. Somehow, when one's seen--seen the thing itself, you<br> + know--blood and men screaming, one feels about having a +little<br> + house and a little hobby; in the Bible, you know, `There +remaineth<br> + 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<br> + desire, at any time, to communicate with me, despite Major +Brown's<br> + view of the matter--"</p> + +<p>"I should be obliged for your card, sir," said the Major, in +his<br> + 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<br> + Agency, 14 Tanner's Court, Fleet Street."</p> + +<p>"What on earth is "C.QT."?" asked Rupert Grant, looking over +the<br> + Major's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know?" returned Northover. "Haven't you ever heard +of<br> + the Club of Queer Trades?"</p> + +<p>"There seems to be a confounded lot of funny things we +haven't<br> + heard of," said the little Major reflectively. "What's this +one?"</p> + +<p>"The Club of Queer Trades is a society consisting exclusively +of<br> + people who have invented some new and curious way of making +money.<br> + I was one of the earliest members."</p> + +<p>"You deserve to be," said Basil, taking up his great white +hat,<br> + 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<br> + queer smile, as he trod down the fire and locked up his desk. +"A<br> + fine chap, that Major; when one hasn't a touch of the poet +one<br> + stands some chance of being a poem. But to think of such a<br> + clockwork little creature of all people getting into the nets +of<br> + 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<br> + door. An owlish head, with dark moustaches, was thrust in, +with<br> + deprecating and somewhat absurd inquiry.</p> + +<p>"What! back again, Major?" cried Northover in surprise. "What +can<br> + 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<br> + in me that I never knew before. But upon my soul I feel the +most<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + impossible. I don't know any one I would sooner oblige than +you;<br> + but the rules of the agency are strict. The Adventures are<br> + confidential; you are an outsider; I am not allowed to let +you<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + garments. She was an actress, employed (with many others) by +the<br> + Romance Agency; and her marriage with the prim old veteran +caused<br> + some stir in her languid and intellectualized set. She +always<br> + replied very quietly that she had met scores of men who +acted<br> + splendidly in the charades provided for them by Northover, but +that<br> + she had only met one man who went down into a coal-cellar when +he<br> + really thought it contained a murderer.</p> + +<p>The Major and she are living as happily as birds, in an +absurd<br> + villa, and the former has taken to smoking. Otherwise he is<br> + unchanged--except, perhaps, there are moments when, alert and +full<br> + of feminine unselfishness as the Major is by nature, he falls +into<br> + a trance of abstraction. Then his wife recognizes with a +concealed<br> + smile, by the blind look in his blue eyes, that he is +wondering<br> + what were the title-deeds, and why he was not allowed to +mention<br> + jackals. But, like so many old soldiers, Brown is religious, +and<br> + believes that he will realize the rest of those purple +adventures<br> + in a better world.</p> + +<h2>Chapter 2</h2> + +<h3>The Painful Fall of a Great Reputation</h3> + +<p>Basil Grant and I were talking one day in what is perhaps the +most<br> + perfect place for talking on earth--the top of a tolerably +deserted<br> + tramcar. To talk on the top of a hill is superb, but to talk on +the<br> + top of a flying hill is a fairy tale.</p> + +<p>The vast blank space of North London was flying by; the very +pace<br> + gave us a sense of its immensity and its meanness. It was, as +it<br> + were, a base infinitude, a squalid eternity, and we felt the +real<br> + horror of the poor parts of London, the horror that is so +totally<br> + missed and misrepresented by the sensational novelists who +depict<br> + it as being a matter of narrow streets, filthy houses, +criminals<br> + and maniacs, and dens of vice. In a narrow street, in a den +of<br> + vice, you do not expect civilization, you do not expect order. +But<br> + the horror of this was the fact that there was civilization, +that<br> + there was order, but that civilisation only showed its +morbidity,<br> + and order only its monotony. No one would say, in going through +a<br> + criminal slum, "I see no statues. I notice no cathedrals." But +here<br> + there were public buildings; only they were mostly lunatic +asylums.<br> + Here there were statues; only they were mostly statues of +railway<br> + engineers and philanthropists--two dingy classes of men united +by<br> + their common contempt for the people. Here there were +churches;<br> + only they were the churches of dim and erratic sects, +Agapemonites<br> + or Irvingites. Here, above all, there were broad roads and +vast<br> + crossings and tramway lines and hospitals and all the real marks +of<br> + civilization. But though one never knew, in one sense, what +one<br> + would see next, there was one thing we knew we should not<br> + see--anything really great, central, of the first class, +anything<br> + that humanity had adored. And with revulsion indescribable +our<br> + emotions returned, I think, to those really close and +crooked<br> + entries, to those really mean streets, to those genuine slums +which<br> + lie round the Thames and the City, in which nevertheless a +real<br> + possibility remains that at any chance corner the great cross +of<br> + the great cathedral of Wren may strike down the street like +a<br> + thunderbolt.</p> + +<p><br> + "But you must always remember also," said Grant to me, in his +heavy<br> + abstracted way, when I had urged this view, "that the very +vileness<br> + of the life of these ordered plebeian places bears witness to +the<br> + victory of the human soul. I agree with you. I agree that they +have<br> + to live in something worse than barbarism. They have to live in +a<br> + fourth-rate civilization. But yet I am practically certain that +the<br> + majority of people here are good people. And being good is +an<br> + adventure far more violent and daring than sailing round the +world.<br> + 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<br> + he was paying no attention to me. He was staring over the side +of<br> + 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<br> + been caught out like this at the very moment of my optimism. I +said<br> + all these people were good, and there is the wickedest man +in<br> + England."</p> + +<p>"Where?" I asked, leaning over further, "where?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I was right enough," he went on, in that strange +continuous<br> + and sleepy tone which always angered his hearers at acute +moments,<br> + "I was right enough when I said all these people were good. +They<br> + are heroes; they are saints. Now and then they may perhaps steal +a<br> + spoon or two; they may beat a wife or two with the poker. But +they<br> + are saints all the same; they are angels; they are robed in +white;<br> + they are clad with wings and haloes--at any rate compared to +that<br> + man."</p> + +<p>"Which man?" I cried again, and then my eye caught the figure +at<br> + which Basil's bull's eyes were glaring.</p> + +<p>He was a slim, smooth person, passing very quickly among +the<br> + quickly passing crowd, but though there was nothing about +him<br> + sufficient to attract a startled notice, there was quite enough +to<br> + demand a curious consideration when once that notice was +attracted.<br> + He wore a black top-hat, but there was enough in it of those<br> + strange curves whereby the decadent artist of the eighties tried +to<br> + turn the top-hat into something as rhythmic as an Etruscan +vase.<br> + His hair, which was largely grey, was curled with the instinct +of<br> + one who appreciated the gradual beauty of grey and silver. The +rest<br> + of his face was oval and, I thought, rather Oriental; he had +two<br> + 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<br> + is a desire to intrigue to the disadvantage of others. Probably +he<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + in heaven's name do you mean by saying that he is the wickedest +man<br> + in England?"</p> + +<p>"I meant what I said," said Basil Grant calmly. "The moment I +saw<br> + that man, I saw all these people stricken with a sudden and<br> + splendid innocence. I saw that while all ordinary poor men in +the<br> + streets were being themselves, he was not being himself. I saw +that<br> + all the men in these slums, cadgers, pickpockets, hooligans, +are<br> + all, in the deepest sense, trying to be good. And I saw that +that<br> + 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<br> + startled the driver. "Look at the eyebrows. They mean that +infernal<br> + pride which made Satan so proud that he sneered even at heaven +when<br> + he was one of the first angels in it. Look at his moustaches, +they<br> + are so grown as to insult humanity. In the name of the +sacred<br> + heavens look at his hair. In the name of God and the stars, look +at<br> + his hat."</p> + +<p>I stirred uncomfortably.</p> + +<p>"But, after all," I said, "this is very fanciful--perfectly +absurd.<br> + 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<br> + facts! Do you really admit--are you still so sunk in +superstitions,<br> + so clinging to dim and prehistoric altars, that you believe +in<br> + facts? Do you not trust an immediate impression?"</p> + +<p>"Well, an immediate impression may be," I said, "a little +less<br> + practical than facts."</p> + +<p>"Bosh," he said. "On what else is the whole world run but +immediate<br> + impressions? What is more practical? My friend, the philosophy +of<br> + this world may be founded on facts, its business is run on<br> + spiritual impressions and atmospheres. Why do you refuse or +accept<br> + a clerk? Do you measure his skull? Do you read up his +physiological<br> + state in a handbook? Do you go upon facts at all? Not a scrap. +You<br> + accept a clerk who may save your business--you refuse a clerk +that<br> + may rob your till, entirely upon those immediate mystical<br> + impressions under the pressure of which I pronounce, with a +perfect<br> + sense of certainty and sincerity, that that man walking in +that<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + walked along for some time, his long splendid frock-coat +flying<br> + behind him. Then he swung sharply out of the great glaring +road<br> + and disappeared down an ill-lit alley. We swung silently +after<br> + 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<br> + boots. I thought it rather odd, to tell the truth, that he +should<br> + 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<br> + figure, like the figure of a black swan, was silhouetted +suddenly<br> + against the glare of intermittent gaslight and then +swallowed<br> + again in night. The intervals between the lights were long, and +a<br> + fog was thickening the whole city. Our pace, therefore, had +become<br> + swift and mechanical between the lamp-posts; but Basil came to +a<br> + standstill suddenly like a reined horse; I stopped also. We +had<br> + almost run into the man. A great part of the solid darkness +in<br> + 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<br> + hardly a yard off he did not realize that we were there. He +tapped<br> + four times on a very low and dirty door in the dark, crabbed<br> + street. A gleam of gas cut the darkness as it opened slowly. +We<br> + listened intently, but the interview was short and simple +and<br> + inexplicable as an interview could be. Our exquisite friend +handed<br> + 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<br> + after the striding stranger through a labyrinth of London +lanes,<br> + the lights just helping us. It was only five o'clock, but +winter<br> + and the fog had made it like midnight.</p> + +<p>"This is really an extraordinary walk for the +patent-leather<br> + 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<br> + and tried to make out the direction described. For some ten<br> + minutes I wondered and doubted; at the end of that I saw +that<br> + my friend was right. We were coming to the great dreary +spaces<br> + of fashionable London--more dreary, one must admit, even +than<br> + the dreary plebeian spaces.</p> + +<p>"This is very extraordinary!" said Basil Grant, as we turned +into<br> + Berkeley Square.</p> + +<p>"What is extraordinary?" I asked. "I thought you said it was +quite<br> + natural."</p> + +<p>"I do not wonder," answered Basil, "at his walking through +nasty<br> + streets; I do not wonder at his going to Berkeley Square. But I +do<br> + 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<br> + imperturbable irrelevancy. "It is not a true statement of the +case<br> + to say that I have forgotten my career when I was a judge and +a<br> + public man. I remember it all vividly, but it is like +remembering<br> + some novel. But fifteen years ago I knew this square as well +as<br> + Lord Rosebery does, and a confounded long sight better than +that<br> + 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<br> + his name? He is a man of transparent sincerity, a nobleman +who<br> + does more work than a navvy, a socialist, an anarchist, I +don't<br> + know what; anyhow, he's a philosopher and philanthropist. I +admit<br> + he has the slight disadvantage of being, beyond all question, +off<br> + his head. He has that real disadvantage which has arisen out +of<br> + the modern worship of progress and novelty; and he thinks +anything<br> + odd and new must be an advance. If you went to him and proposed +to<br> + eat your grandmother, he would agree with you, so long as you +put<br> + it on hygienic and public grounds, as a cheap alternative to<br> + cremation. So long as you progress fast enough it seems a +matter<br> + of indifference to him whether you are progressing to the stars +or<br> + the devil. So his house is filled with an endless succession +of<br> + literary and political fashions; men who wear long hair because +it<br> + is romantic; men who wear short hair because it is medical; +men<br> + who walk on their feet only to exercise their hands; and men +who<br> + walk on their hands for fear of tiring their feet. But though +the<br> + inhabitants of his salons are generally fools, like himself, +they<br> + are almost always, like himself, good men. I am really +surprised<br> + to see a criminal enter there."</p> + +<p>"My good fellow," I said firmly, striking my foot on the +pavement,<br> + "the truth of this affair is very simple. To use your own +eloquent<br> + language, you have the `slight disadvantage' of being off +your<br> + head. You see a total stranger in a public street; you choose +to<br> + start certain theories about his eyebrows. You then treat him as +a<br> + burglar because he enters an honest man's door. The thing is +too<br> + monstrous. Admit that it is, Basil, and come home with me. +Though<br> + these people are still having tea, yet with the distance we have +to<br> + 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<br> + frock; I want what a boy wants when he goes in for a clanging +match<br> + with a monitor--I want to show somebody what a fine fellow I am. +I<br> + am as right about that man as I am about your having a hat on +your<br> + head. You say it cannot be tested. I say it can. I will take you +to<br> + 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<br> + for a call," and walking across the vast misty square, he +walked<br> + 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<br> + receiving my friend's name his manner passed in a flash from<br> + astonishment to respect. We were ushered into the house very<br> + quickly, but not so quickly but that our host, a +white-haired<br> + 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,<br> + "I have not seen you for years. Have you been--er--" he +said,<br> + rather wildly, "have you been in the country?"</p> + +<p>"Not for all that time," answered Basil, smiling. "I have +long<br> + given up my official position, my dear Philip, and have been<br> + living in a deliberate retirement. I hope I do not come at +an<br> + inopportune moment."</p> + +<p>"An inopportune moment," cried the ardent gentleman. "You come +at<br> + the most opportune moment I could imagine. Do you know who +is<br> + here?"</p> + +<p>"I do not," answered Grant, with gravity. Even as he spoke a +roar<br> + 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.<br> + You must have been in the antipodes. You must have been in +the<br> + moon. Who is Wimpole? Who was Shakespeare?"</p> + +<p>"As to who Shakespeare was," answered my friend placidly, "my +views<br> + go no further than thinking that he was not Bacon. More probably +he<br> + was Mary Queen of Scots. But as to who Wimpole is--" and his +speech<br> + also was cloven with a roar of laughter from within.</p> + +<p>"Wimpole!" cried Lord Beaumont, in a sort of ecstasy. +"Haven't<br> + you heard of the great modern wit? My dear fellow, he has +turned<br> + conversation, I do not say into an art--for that, perhaps, +it<br> + always was but into a great art, like the statuary of +Michael<br> + Angelo--an art of masterpieces. His repartees, my good +friend,<br> + 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<br> + the very noise of it, a big, panting apoplectic old gentleman +came<br> + 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<br> + gentleman. "I won't be made game of by a twopenny literary<br> + adventurer like that. I won't be made a guy. I won't--"</p> + +<p>"Come, come," said Beaumont feverishly. "Let me introduce +you.<br> + This is Mr Justice Grant--that is, Mr Grant. Basil, I am sure +you<br> + have heard of Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh."</p> + +<p>"Who has not?" asked Grant, and bowed to the worthy old +baronet,<br> + eyeing him with some curiosity. He was hot and heavy in his<br> + momentary anger, but even that could not conceal the noble +though<br> + opulent outline of his face and body, the florid white hair, +the<br> + Roman nose, the body stalwart though corpulent, the chin<br> + aristocratic though double. He was a magnificent courtly +gentleman;<br> + so much of a gentleman that he could show an unquestionable<br> + weakness of anger without altogether losing dignity; so much of +a<br> + gentleman that even his faux pas were well-bred.</p> + +<p>"I am distressed beyond expression, Beaumont," he said +gruffly,<br> + "to fail in respect to these gentlemen, and even more +especially<br> + to fail in it in your house. But it is not you or they that +are<br> + 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<br> + sombre air came out of the inner room. He also did not seem to +be<br> + greatly enjoying the intellectual banquet within.</p> + +<p>"I think you remember my friend and secretary, Mr Drummond," +said<br> + Lord Beaumont, turning to Grant, "even if you only remember him +as<br> + a schoolboy."</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," said the other. Mr Drummond shook hands +pleasantly<br> + and respectfully, but the cloud was still on his brow. Turning +to<br> + Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh, he said:</p> + +<p>"I was sent by Lady Beaumont to express her hope that you were +not<br> + going yet, Sir Walter. She says she has scarcely seen anything +of<br> + you."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman, still red in the face, had a temporary +internal<br> + struggle; then his good manners triumphed, and with a gesture +of<br> + obeisance and a vague utterance of, "If Lady Beaumont . . . a +lady,<br> + of course," he followed the young man back into the salon. He +had<br> + scarcely been deposited there half a minute before another peal +of<br> + laughter told that he had (in all probability) been scored +off<br> + again.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I can excuse dear old Cholmondeliegh," said +Beaumont,<br> + 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<br> + facts of life seriously." At this moment another roar of +laughter<br> + came from within.</p> + +<p>"I only ask," said Basil, "because of the last two friends of +yours<br> + who had the modern mind; one thought it wrong to eat fishes and +the<br> + other thought it right to eat men. I beg your pardon--this way, +if<br> + I remember right."</p> + +<p>"Do you know," said Lord Beaumont, with a sort of feverish<br> + entertainment, as he trotted after us towards the interior, "I +can<br> + never quite make out which side you are on. Sometimes you seem +so<br> + liberal and sometimes so reactionary. Are you a modern, +Basil?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Basil, loudly and cheerfully, as he entered the +crowded<br> + drawing-room.</p> + +<p>This caused a slight diversion, and some eyes were turned +away<br> + from our slim friend with the Oriental face for the first +time<br> + that afternoon. Two people, however, still looked at him. One +was<br> + the daughter of the house, Muriel Beaumont, who gazed at him +with<br> + great violet eyes and with the intense and awful thirst of +the<br> + female upper class for verbal amusement and stimulus. The +other<br> + was Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh, who looked at him with a still +and<br> + sullen but unmistakable desire to throw him out of the +window.</p> + +<p>He sat there, coiled rather than seated on the easy chair;<br> + everything from the curves of his smooth limbs to the coils of +his<br> + silvered hair suggesting the circles of a serpent more than +the<br> + straight limbs of a man--the unmistakable, splendid +serpentine<br> + gentleman we had seen walking in North London, his eyes +shining<br> + with repeated victory.</p> + +<p>"What I can't understand, Mr Wimpole," said Muriel +Beaumont<br> + eagerly, "is how you contrive to treat all this so easily. You +say<br> + things quite philosophical and yet so wildly funny. If I +thought<br> + of such things, I'm sure I should laugh outright when the +thought<br> + first came."</p> + +<p>"I agree with Miss Beaumont," said Sir Walter, suddenly +exploding<br> + with indignation. "If I had thought of anything so futile, I +should<br> + find it difficult to keep my countenance."</p> + +<p>"Difficult to keep your countenance," cried Mr Wimpole, with +an air<br> + of alarm; "oh, do keep your countenance! Keep it in the +British<br> + Museum."</p> + +<p>Every one laughed uproariously, as they always do at an +already<br> + admitted readiness, and Sir Walter, turning suddenly purple,<br> + shouted out:</p> + +<p>"Do you know who you are talking to, with your confounded<br> + tomfooleries?"</p> + +<p>"I never talk tomfooleries," said the other, "without first +knowing<br> + my audience."</p> + +<p>Grant walked across the room and tapped the red-moustached<br> + secretary on the shoulder. That gentleman was leaning against +the<br> + wall regarding the whole scene with a great deal of gloom; but, +I<br> + fancied, with very particular gloom when his eyes fell on the +young<br> + lady of the house rapturously listening to Wimpole.</p> + +<p>"May I have a word with you outside, Drummond?" asked Grant. +"It is<br> + about business. Lady Beaumont will excuse us."</p> + +<p>I followed my friend, at his own request, greatly wondering, +to<br> + this strange external interview. We passed abruptly into a kind +of<br> + side room out of the hall.</p> + +<p>"Drummond," said Basil sharply, "there are a great many +good<br> + people, and a great many sane people here this afternoon.<br> + Unfortunately, by a kind of coincidence, all the good people +are<br> + mad, and all the sane people are wicked. You are the only person +I<br> + know of here who is honest and has also some common sense. What +do<br> + you make of Wimpole?"</p> + +<p>Mr Secretary Drummond had a pale face and red hair; but at +this his<br> + 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<br> + and violently.</p> + +<p>Neither Grant nor I needed to ask the reason; his glances +towards<br> + Miss Beaumont and the stranger were sufficiently +illuminating.<br> + Grant said quietly:</p> + +<p>"But before--before you came to hate him, what did you really +think<br> + of him?"</p> + +<p>"I am in a terrible difficulty," said the young man, and his +voice<br> + told us, like a clear bell, that he was an honest man. "If I +spoke<br> + about him as I feel about him now, I could not trust myself. And +I<br> + should like to be able to say that when I first saw him I +thought<br> + he was charming. But again, the fact is I didn't. I hate him, +that<br> + is my private affair. But I also disapprove of him--really I +do<br> + believe I disapprove of him quite apart from my private +feelings.<br> + When first he came, I admit he was much quieter, but I did +not<br> + like, so to speak, the moral swell of him. Then that jolly old +Sir<br> + Walter Cholmondeliegh got introduced to us, and this fellow, +with<br> + his cheap-jack wit, began to score off the old man in the way +he<br> + does now. Then I felt that he must be a bad lot; it must be bad +to<br> + fight the old and the kindly. And he fights the poor old +chap<br> + savagely, unceasingly, as if he hated old age and kindliness. +Take,<br> + if you want it, the evidence of a prejudiced witness. I admit +that<br> + I hate the man because a certain person admires him. But I +believe<br> + that apart from that I should hate the man because old Sir +Walter<br> + hates him."</p> + +<p>This speech affected me with a genuine sense of esteem and +pity for<br> + the young man; that is, of pity for him because of his +obviously<br> + hopeless worship of Miss Beaumont, and of esteem for him because +of<br> + the direct realistic account of the history of Wimpole which he +had<br> + given. Still, I was sorry that he seemed so steadily set +against<br> + the man, and could not help referring it to an instinct of +his<br> + personal relations, however nobly disguised from himself.</p> + +<p>In the middle of these meditations, Grant whispered in my ear +what<br> + 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<br> + affected me. I only know that for some reason or other he so<br> + affected me that I was, within a few minutes, in the street<br> + 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<br> + have just invited you and me to a grand dinner-party this +very<br> + night, at which Mr Wimpole will be in all his glory. Well, +there<br> + is nothing very extraordinary about that. The extraordinary +thing<br> + is that we are not going."</p> + +<p>"Well, really," I said, "it is already six o'clock and I doubt +if<br> + we could get home and dress. I see nothing extraordinary in +the<br> + fact that we are not going."</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" said Grant. "I'll bet you'll see something<br> + 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<br> + house on a winter evening. You must forgive me; it is all my<br> + vanity. It is only to show you that I am right. Can you, with +the<br> + assistance of this cigar, wait until both Sir Walter +Cholmondeliegh<br> + and the mystic Wimpole have left this house?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," I said. "But I do not know which is likely to +leave<br> + first. Have you any notion?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "Sir Walter may leave first in a glow of rage. +Or<br> + again, Mr Wimpole may leave first, feeling that his last epigram +is<br> + a thing to be flung behind him like a firework. And Sir Walter +may<br> + remain some time to analyse Mr Wimpole's character. But they +will<br> + both have to leave within reasonable time, for they will both +have<br> + 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<br> + house drew a dark cab to the dark portal. And then a thing +happened<br> + that we really had not expected. Mr Wimpole and Sir Walter<br> + Cholmondeliegh came out at the same moment.</p> + +<p>They paused for a second or two opposite each other in a +natural<br> + doubt; then a certain geniality, fundamental perhaps in both +of<br> + them, made Sir Walter smile and say: "The night is foggy. +Pray<br> + take my cab."</p> + +<p>Before I could count twenty the cab had gone rattling up the +street<br> + with both of them. And before I could count twenty-three Grant +had<br> + hissed in my ear:</p> + +<p>"Run after the cab; run as if you were running from a mad +dog--<br> + run."</p> + +<p>We pelted on steadily, keeping the cab in sight, through dark +mazy<br> + streets. God only, I thought, knows why we are running at all, +but<br> + we are running hard. Fortunately we did not run far. The cab +pulled<br> + up at the fork of two streets and Sir Walter paid the cabman, +who<br> + drove away rejoicing, having just come in contact with the +more<br> + generous among the rich. Then the two men talked together as men +do<br> + talk together after giving and receiving great insults, the +talk<br> + which leads either to forgiveness or a duel--at least so it +seemed<br> + as we watched it from ten yards off. Then the two men shook +hands<br> + heartily, and one went down one fork of the road and one +down<br> + 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<br> + slipped us. He's half a mile down the other road. You're wrong . +. .<br> + 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?<br> + 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<br> + baronet, whose white whiskers shone silver in the fitful +lamplight.<br> + My brain was utterly bewildered. I grasped nothing.</p> + +<p>"Charlie," said Basil hoarsely, "can you believe in my common +sense<br> + 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<br> + at once when I say `Now'. Now!"</p> + +<p>We sprang on Sir Walter Cholmondeliegh, and rolled that portly +old<br> + gentleman on his back. He fought with a commendable valour, but +we<br> + got him tight. I had not the remotest notion why. He had a +splendid<br> + and full-blooded vigour; when he could not box he kicked, and +we<br> + bound him; when he could not kick he shouted, and we gagged +him.<br> + Then, by Basil's arrangement, we dragged him into a small court +by<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + the court. A glimpse of gaslight showed the red moustache and +white<br> + face of Jasper Drummond.</p> + +<p>"Mr Grant," he said blankly, "the thing is incredible. You +were<br> + right; but what did you mean? All through this dinner-party, +where<br> + dukes and duchesses and editors of Quarterlies had come +especially<br> + to hear him, that extraordinary Wimpole kept perfectly silent. +He<br> + didn't say a funny thing. He didn't say anything at all. What +does<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + breastpocket, a paper which the baronet, even in his +hampered<br> + state, seemed to make some effort to retain.</p> + +<p>It was a large loose piece of white wrapping paper, which Mr +Jasper<br> + Drummond read with a vacant eye and undisguised astonishment. +As<br> + far as he could make out, it consisted of a series of questions +and<br> + answers, or at least of remarks and replies, arranged in the +manner<br> + of a catechism. The greater part of the document had been torn +and<br> + obliterated in the struggle, but the termination remained. It +ran<br> + 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<br> + final fury.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" replied Grant, his voice rising into a kind +of<br> + splendid chant. "What is it? It is a great new profession. A +great<br> + new trade. A trifle immoral, I admit, but still great, like<br> + piracy."</p> + +<p>"A new profession!" said the young man with the red +moustache<br> + vaguely; "a new trade!"</p> + +<p>"A new trade," repeated Grant, with a strange exultation, "a +new<br> + profession! What a pity it is immoral."</p> + +<p>"But what the deuce is it?" cried Drummond and I in a breath +of<br> + blasphemy.</p> + +<p>"It is," said Grant calmly, "the great new trade of the +Organizer<br> + of Repartee. This fat old gentleman lying on the ground +strikes<br> + you, as I have no doubt, as very stupid and very rich. Let me +clear<br> + his character. He is, like ourselves, very clever and very poor. +He<br> + is also not really at all fat; all that is stuffing. He is +not<br> + particularly old, and his name is not Cholmondeliegh. He is +a<br> + swindler, and a swindler of a perfectly delightful and novel +kind.<br> + He hires himself out at dinner-parties to lead up to other +people's<br> + repartees. According to a preconcerted scheme (which you may +find<br> + on that piece of paper), he says the stupid things he has +arranged<br> + for himself, and his client says the clever things arranged +for<br> + him. In short, he allows himself to be scored off for a guinea +a<br> + night."</p> + +<p>"And this fellow Wimpole--" began Drummond with +indignation.</p> + +<p>"This fellow Wimpole," said Basil Grant, smiling, "will not be +an<br> + intellectual rival in the future. He had some fine things, +elegance<br> + and silvered hair, and so on. But the intellect is with our +friend<br> + on the floor."</p> + +<p><br> + "That fellow," cried Drummond furiously, "that fellow ought to +be<br> + in gaol."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Basil indulgently; "he ought to be in the +Club<br> + of Queer Trades."</p> + +<h2>Chapter 3</h2> + +<h3>The Awful Reason of the Vicar's Visit</h3> + +<p>The revolt of Matter against Man (which I believe to exist) +has now<br> + been reduced to a singular condition. It is the small things +rather<br> + than the large things which make war against us and, I may +add,<br> + beat us. The bones of the last mammoth have long ago decayed, +a<br> + mighty wreck; the tempests no longer devour our navies, nor +the<br> + mountains with hearts of fire heap hell over our cities. But we +are<br> + engaged in a bitter and eternal war with small things; chiefly +with<br> + microbes and with collar studs. The stud with which I was +engaged<br> + (on fierce and equal terms) as I made the above reflections, +was<br> + one which I was trying to introduce into my shirt collar when +a<br> + loud knock came at the door.</p> + +<p><br> + My first thought was as to whether Basil Grant had called to +fetch<br> + me. He and I were to turn up at the same dinner-party (for which +I<br> + was in the act of dressing), and it might be that he had taken +it<br> + into his head to come my way, though we had arranged to go<br> + separately. It was a small and confidential affair at the table +of<br> + a good but unconventional political lady, an old friend of his. +She<br> + had asked us both to meet a third guest, a Captain Fraser, who +had<br> + made something of a name and was an authority on chimpanzees. +As<br> + Basil was an old friend of the hostess and I had never seen her, +I<br> + felt that it was quite possible that he (with his usual +social<br> + sagacity) might have decided to take me along in order to break +the<br> + ice. The theory, like all my theories, was complete; but as a +fact<br> + it was not Basil.</p> + +<p>I was handed a visiting card inscribed: "Rev. Ellis Shorter", +and<br> + underneath was written in pencil, but in a hand in which even +hurry<br> + could not conceal a depressing and gentlemanly excellence, +"Asking<br> + the favour of a few moments' conversation on a most urgent<br> + matter."!</p> + +<p>I had already subdued the stud, thereby proclaiming that the +image<br> + of God has supremacy over all matters (a valuable truth), +and<br> + throwing on my dress-coat and waistcoat, hurried into the<br> + drawing-room. He rose at my entrance, flapping like a seal; I +can<br> + use no other description. He flapped a plaid shawl over his +right<br> + arm; he flapped a pair of pathetic black gloves; he flapped +his<br> + clothes; I may say, without exaggeration, that he flapped +his<br> + eyelids, as he rose. He was a bald-browed, white-haired,<br> + white-whiskered old clergyman, of a flappy and floppy type. +He<br> + said:</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry. I am so very sorry. I am so extremely sorry. I +come<br> + --I can only say--I can only say in my defence, that I +come--upon<br> + 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<br> + dreadful--I have lived a quiet life."</p> + +<p>I was burning to get away, for it was already doubtful if I +should<br> + be in time for dinner. But there was something about the old +man's<br> + honest air of bitterness that seemed to open to me the<br> + 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,<br> + 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--<br> + 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<br> + shawl about. "He told me you helped him in a great +difficulty--and<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + all his moral palsy, he rose to the dignity of his age and +his<br> + office.</p> + +<p>"I have no right, Mr Swinburne--I have no right at all," he +said.<br> + "If you have to go out to dinner, you have of course--a +perfect<br> + right--of course a perfect right. But when you come back--a +man<br> + 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<br> + and drowned in my mind. I did not want to go and see a +political<br> + widow, and a captain who collected apes; I wanted to hear what +had<br> + brought this dear, doddering old vicar into relation with +immediate<br> + perils.</p> + +<p>"Will you have a cigar?" I said.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," he said, with indescribable embarrassment, as +if<br> + 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<br> + that hysterical eagerness with which people who do not drink +at<br> + all often try to convey that on any other night of the week +they<br> + would sit up all night drinking rum-punch. "Not just now, +thank<br> + you."</p> + +<p>"Nothing else I can get for you?" I said, feeling genuinely +sorry<br> + 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<br> + came he drank it like a dipsomaniac gulping brandy. Then he +fell<br> + back and said:</p> + +<p>"I have had such a time, Mr Swinburne. I am not used to +these<br> + excitements. As Vicar of Chuntsey, in Essex'--he threw this +in<br> + with an indescribable airiness of vanity--'I have never +known<br> + 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<br> + forcibly dressed up as an old woman and made to take part in +a<br> + crime in the character of an old woman. Never once. My +experience<br> + may be small. It may be insufficient. But it has never +occurred<br> + to me before."</p> + +<p>"I have never heard of it," I said, "as among the duties of +a<br> + clergyman. But I am not well up in church matters. Excuse me +if<br> + 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<br> + make an old woman of him, but the thing was evidently more +tragic<br> + 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<br> + my story with the utmost possible precision. At seventeen +minutes<br> + past eleven this morning I left the vicarage to keep certain<br> + appointments and pay certain visits in the village. My first +visit<br> + was to Mr Jervis, the treasurer of our League of Christian<br> + Amusements, with whom I concluded some business touching the +claim<br> + made by Parkes the gardener in the matter of the rolling of +our<br> + tennis lawn. I then visited Mrs Arnett, a very earnest<br> + churchwoman, but permanently bedridden. She is the author of<br> + several small works of devotion, and of a book of verse, +entitled<br> + (unless my memory misleads me) Eglantine."</p> + +<p>He uttered all this not only with deliberation, but with +something<br> + that can only be called, by a contradictory phrase, eager<br> + deliberation. He had, I think, a vague memory in his head of +the<br> + detectives in the detective stories, who always sternly +require<br> + that nothing should be kept back.</p> + +<p>"I then proceeded," he went on, with the same maddening<br> + conscientiousness of manner, "to Mr Carr (not Mr James Carr, +of<br> + course; Mr Robert Carr) who is temporarily assisting our +organist,<br> + and having consulted with him (on the subject of a choir boy +who<br> + is accused, I cannot as yet say whether justly or not, of +cutting<br> + holes in the organ pipes), I finally dropped in upon a +Dorcas<br> + meeting at the house of Miss Brett. The Dorcas meetings are<br> + usually held at the vicarage, but my wife being unwell, Miss<br> + Brett, a newcomer in our village, but very active in church +work,<br> + had very kindly consented to hold them. The Dorcas society +is<br> + entirely under my wife's management as a rule, and except for +Miss<br> + Brett, who, as I say, is very active, I scarcely know any +members<br> + 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<br> + Brett, but they were sewing very busily. It is very difficult, +of<br> + course, for any person, however strongly impressed with the<br> + necessity in these matters of full and exact exposition of +the<br> + facts, to remember and repeat the actual details of a<br> + conversation, particularly a conversation which (though +inspired<br> + with a most worthy and admirable zeal for good work) was one +which<br> + did not greatly impress the hearer's mind at the time and was +in<br> + fact--er--mostly about socks. I can, however, remember +distinctly<br> + that one of the spinster ladies (she was a thin person with +a<br> + woollen shawl, who appeared to feel the cold, and I am almost +sure<br> + she was introduced to me as Miss James) remarked that the +weather<br> + was very changeable. Miss Brett then offered me a cup of +tea,<br> + which I accepted, I cannot recall in what words. Miss Brett is +a<br> + short and stout lady with white hair. The only other figure in +the<br> + group that caught my attention was a Miss Mowbray, a small +and<br> + neat lady of aristocratic manners, silver hair, and a high +voice<br> + and colour. She was the most emphatic member of the party; and +her<br> + views on the subject of pinafores, though expressed with a +natural<br> + deference to myself, were in themselves strong and advanced.<br> + Beside her (although all five ladies were dressed simply in +black)<br> + it could not be denied that the others looked in some way what +you<br> + men of the world would call dowdy.</p> + +<p>"After about ten minutes' conversation I rose to go, and as I +did<br> + so I heard something which--I cannot describe it--something +which<br> + 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<br> + lady with the silver hair) say to Miss James (the lady with +the<br> + woollen shawl), the following extraordinary words. I +committed<br> + them to memory on the spot, and as soon as circumstances set +me<br> + free to do so, I noted them down on a piece of paper. I believe +I<br> + have it here." He fumbled in his breast-pocket, bringing out +mild<br> + things, note-books, circulars and programmes of village +concerts.<br> + "I heard Miss Mowbray say to Miss James, the following +words:<br> + `Now's your time, Bill.'"</p> + +<p>He gazed at me for a few moments after making this +announcement,<br> + gravely and unflinchingly, as if conscious that here he was<br> + unshaken about his facts. Then he resumed, turning his bald +head<br> + more towards the fire.</p> + +<p>"This appeared to me remarkable. I could not by any means<br> + understand it. It seemed to me first of all peculiar that +one<br> + maiden lady should address another maiden lady as `Bill'. My<br> + experience, as I have said, may be incomplete; maiden ladies +may<br> + have among themselves and in exclusively spinster circles +wilder<br> + customs than I am aware of. But it seemed to me odd, and I +could<br> + almost have sworn (if you will not misunderstand the phrase), +I<br> + should have been strongly impelled to maintain at the time +that<br> + the words, `Now's your time, Bill', were by no means +pronounced<br> + with that upper-class intonation which, as I have already +said,<br> + had up to now characterized Miss Mowbray's conversation. In +fact,<br> + the words, `Now's your time, Bill', would have been, I +fancy,<br> + unsuitable if pronounced with that upper-class intonation.</p> + +<p>"I was surprised, I repeat, then, at the remark. But I was +still<br> + more surprised when, looking round me in bewilderment, my hat +and<br> + umbrella in hand, I saw the lean lady with the woollen shawl<br> + leaning upright against the door out of which I was just about +to<br> + make my exit. She was still knitting, and I supposed that +this<br> + erect posture against the door was only an eccentricity of<br> + spinsterhood and an oblivion of my intended departure.</p> + +<p>"I said genially, `I am so sorry to disturb you, Miss James, +but I<br> + must really be going. I have--er--' I stopped here, for the +words<br> + she had uttered in reply, though singularly brief and in +tone<br> + extremely business-like, were such as to render that arrest of +my<br> + remarks, I think, natural and excusable. I have these words +also<br> + noted down. I have not the least idea of their meaning; so I +have<br> + only been able to render them phonetically. But she said," and +Mr<br> + Shorter peered short-sightedly at his papers, "she said: `Chuck +it,<br> + fat 'ead,' and she added something that sounded like `It's a +kop',<br> + or (possibly) `a kopt'. And then the last cord, either of my +sanity<br> + or the sanity of the universe, snapped suddenly. My esteemed +friend<br> + and helper, Miss Brett, standing by the mantelpiece, said: `Put +'is<br> + old 'ead in a bag, Sam, and tie 'im up before you start +jawin'.<br> + You'll be kopt yourselves some o' these days with this way of +coin'<br> + things, har lar theater.'</p> + +<p>"My head went round and round. Was it really true, as I +had<br> + suddenly fancied a moment before, that unmarried ladies had +some<br> + dreadful riotous society of their own from which all others +were<br> + excluded? I remembered dimly in my classical days (I was a +scholar<br> + in a small way once, but now, alas! rusty), I remembered the<br> + mysteries of the Bona Dea and their strange female freemasonry. +I<br> + remembered the witches' Sabbaths. I was just, in my absurd<br> + lightheadedness, trying to remember a line of verse about +Diana's<br> + nymphs, when Miss Mowbray threw her arm round me from behind. +The<br> + 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<br> + of me with a big revolver in her hand and a broad grin on her +face.<br> + Miss James was still leaning against the door, but had fallen +into<br> + an attitude so totally new, and so totally unfeminine, that it +gave<br> + one a shock. She was kicking her heels, with her hands in +her<br> + pockets and her cap on one side. She was a man. I mean he was +a<br> + wo--no, that is I saw that instead of being a woman she--he, +I<br> + mean--that is, it was a man."</p> + +<p>Mr Shorter became indescribably flurried and flapping in<br> + endeavouring to arrange these genders and his plaid shawl at +the<br> + 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<br> + her arm--that is she had his arm--round her neck--my neck I +mean--<br> + and I could not cry out. Miss Brett--that is, Mr Brett, at least +Mr<br> + something who was not Miss Brett--had the revolver pointed at +me.<br> + The other two ladies--or er--gentlemen, were rummaging in some +bag<br> + in the background. It was all clear at last: they were +criminals<br> + dressed up as women, to kidnap me! To kidnap the Vicar of +Chuntsey,<br> + in Essex. But why? Was it to be Nonconformists?</p> + +<p>"The brute leaning against the door called out carelessly, +`'Urry<br> + 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<br> + revolver--`why should we show 'im the game?'</p> + +<p>"`If you take my advice you bloomin' well will,' said the man +at<br> + the door, whom they called Bill. `A man wot knows wet 'e's doin' +is<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + other two women--I mean men--were turning over baggage, and +asked<br> + them for something which they gave him. He came back with it +across<br> + the room and held it out in front of me. And compared to the<br> + surprise of that display, all the previous surprises of this +awful<br> + day shrank suddenly.</p> + +<p>"It was a portrait of myself. That such a picture should be in +the<br> + hands of these scoundrels might in any case have caused a +mild<br> + surprise; but no more. It was no mild surprise that I felt. +The<br> + likeness was an extremely good one, worked up with all the<br> + accessories of the conventional photographic studio. I was +leaning<br> + my head on my hand and was relieved against a painted landscape +of<br> + woodland. It was obvious that it was no snapshot; it was clear +that<br> + I had sat for this photograph. And the truth was that I had +never<br> + sat for such a photograph. It was a photograph that I had never +had<br> + taken.</p> + +<p>"I stared at it again and again. It seemed to me to be touched +up a<br> + good deal; it was glazed as well as framed, and the glass +blurred<br> + some of the details. But there unmistakably was my face, my +eyes,<br> + my nose and mouth, my head and hand, posed for a +professional<br> + photographer. And I had never posed so for any photographer.</p> + +<p>"`Be'old the bloomin' miracle,' said the man with the +revolver,<br> + with ill-timed facetiousness. `Parson, prepare to meet your +God.'<br> + And with this he slid the glass out of the frame. As the +glass<br> + moved, I saw that part of the picture was painted on it in +Chinese<br> + white, notably a pair of white whiskers and a clerical collar. +And<br> + underneath was a portrait of an old lady in a quiet black +dress,<br> + leaning her head on her hand against the woodland landscape. +The<br> + old lady was as like me as one pin is like another. It had +required<br> + 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<br> + shot the glass back again. `Remarkable resemblance, parson.<br> + Gratifyin' to the lady. Gratifyin' to you. And hi may hadd,<br> + particlery gratifyin' to us, as bein' the probable source of +a<br> + very tolerable haul. You know Colonel Hawker, the man who's +come<br> + 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<br> + mother. 'Oo ran to catch 'im when 'e fell? She did,' and he +flung<br> + his fingers in a general gesture towards the photograph of the +old<br> + lady who was exactly like me.</p> + +<p>"`Tell the old gent wot 'e's got to do and be done with it,' +broke<br> + out Bill from the door. `Look 'ere, Reverend Shorter, we +ain't<br> + goin' to do you no 'arm. We'll give you a sov. for your trouble +if<br> + you like. And as for the old woman's clothes--why, you'll +look<br> + lovely in 'em.'</p> + +<p>"`You ain't much of a 'and at a description, Bill,' said the +man<br> + behind me. `Mr Shorter, it's like this. We've got to see this +man<br> + Hawker tonight. Maybe 'e'll kiss us all and 'ave up the +champagne<br> + when 'e sees us. Maybe on the other 'and--'e won't. Maybe 'e'll +be<br> + dead when we goes away. Maybe not. But we've got to see 'im. Now +as<br> + you know, 'e shuts 'isself up and never opens the door to a +soul;<br> + only you don't know why and we does. The only one as can ever +get<br> + at 'im is 'is mother. Well, it's a confounded funny +coincidence,'<br> + he said, accenting the penultimate, `it's a very unusual piece +of<br> + good luck, but you're 'is mother.'</p> + +<p>"`When first I saw 'er picture,' said the man Bill, shaking +his<br> + head in a ruminant manner, `when I first saw it I said--old<br> + Shorter. Those were my exact words--old Shorter.'</p> + +<p>"`What do you mean, you wild creatures?' I gasped. `What am I +to<br> + do?'</p> + +<p>"`That's easy said, your 'oldness,' said the man with the +revolver,<br> + good-humouredly; `you've got to put on those clothes,' and +he<br> + pointed to a poke-bonnet and a heap of female clothes in the +corner<br> + of the room.</p> + +<p>"I will not dwell, Mr Swinburne, upon the details of what +followed.<br> + I had no choice. I could not fight five men, to say nothing of +a<br> + loaded pistol. In five minutes, sir, the Vicar of Chuntsey +was<br> + dressed as an old woman--as somebody else's mother, if you<br> + 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<br> + were closing in fast. On a dark road, in a blowing wind, we set +out<br> + towards the lonely house of Colonel Hawker, perhaps the +queerest<br> + cortege that ever straggled up that or any other road. To +every<br> + human eye, in every external, we were six very respectable +old<br> + ladies of small means, in black dresses and refined but +antiquated<br> + 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<br> + windmill as I walked, trying to think of some manner of escape. +To<br> + cry out, so long as we were far from houses, would be suicidal, +for<br> + it would be easy for the ruffians to knife me or to gag me +and<br> + fling me into a ditch. On the other hand, to attempt to stop<br> + strangers and explain the situation was impossible, because of +the<br> + frantic folly of the situation itself. Long before I had +persuaded<br> + the chance postman or carrier of so absurd a story, my +companions<br> + would certainly have got off themselves, and in all +probability<br> + would have carried me off, as a friend of theirs who had the<br> + misfortune to be mad or drunk. The last thought, however, was +an<br> + inspiration; though a very terrible one. Had it come to this, +that<br> + the Vicar of Chuntsey must pretend to be mad or drunk? It had +come<br> + to this.</p> + +<p><br> + "I walked along with the rest up the deserted road, imitating +and<br> + keeping pace, as far as I could, with their rapid and yet +lady-like<br> + step, until at length I saw a lamp-post and a policeman +standing<br> + under it. I had made up my mind. Until we reached them we were +all<br> + equally demure and silent and swift. When we reached them I<br> + suddenly flung myself against the railings and roared out: +`Hooray!<br> + Hooray! Hooray! Rule Britannia! Get your 'air cut. Hoop-la! +Boo!'<br> + 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<br> + draggled, drunken old woman that was my travesty. `Now then, +mum,'<br> + he began gruffly.</p> + +<p>"`Come along quiet, or I'll eat your heart,' cried Sam in my +ear<br> + hoarsely. `Stop, or I'll flay you.' It was frightful to hear +the<br> + 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<br> + refrains that vulgar young men had sung, to my regret, at +our<br> + 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<br> + policeman, `I shall have to take 'er up. Drunk and disorderly +she<br> + is right enough.'</p> + +<p>"I redoubled my efforts. I had not been brought up to this +sort of<br> + thing; but I believe I eclipsed myself. Words that I did not +know I<br> + 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;<br> + 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<br> + nightmares that men have ever dreamed, there has never been<br> + anything so blighting and horrible as the faces of those five +men,<br> + looking out of their poke-bonnets; the figures of district +visitors<br> + with the faces of devils. I cannot think there is anything +so<br> + heart-breaking in hell.</p> + +<p>"For a sickening instant I thought that the bustle of my +companions<br> + and the perfect respectability of all our dresses would +overcome<br> + the policeman and induce him to let us pass. He wavered, so far +as<br> + one can describe anything so solid as a policeman as wavering. +I<br> + lurched suddenly forward and ran my head into his chest, +calling<br> + out (if I remember correctly), `Oh, crikey, blimey, Bill.' It +was<br> + at that moment that I remembered most dearly that I was the +Vicar<br> + of Chuntsey, in Essex.</p> + +<p>"My desperate coup saved me. The policeman had me hard by the +back<br> + of the neck.</p> + +<p>"`You come along with me,' he began, but Bill cut in with +his<br> + perfect imitation of a lady's finnicking voice.</p> + +<p>"`Oh, pray, constable, don't make a disturbance with our +poor<br> + friend. We will get her quietly home. She does drink too much, +but<br> + 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<br> + character of Miss James, `she wants looking after.' `She +does,'<br> + said the policeman, `but I'll look after her.'</p> + +<p>"`That's no good,' cried Bill feverishly. `She wants her +friends.<br> + She wants a particular medicine we've got.'</p> + +<p>"`Yes,' assented Miss Mowbray, with excitement, `no other +medicine<br> + any good, constable. Complaint quite unique.'</p> + +<p>"`I'm all righ'. Cutchy, cutchy, coo!' remarked, to his +eternal<br> + shame, the Vicar of Chuntsey.</p> + +<p>"`Look here, ladies,' said the constable sternly, `I don't +like the<br> + eccentricity of your friend, and I don't like 'er songs, or +'er<br> + 'ead in my stomach. And now I come to think of it, I don't like +the<br> + looks of you I've seen many as quiet dressed as you as was +wrong<br> + 'uns. Who are you?'</p> + +<p>"`We've not our cards with us,' said Miss Mowbray, with<br> + indescribable dignity. `Nor do we see why we should be insulted +by<br> + any Jack-in-office who chooses to be rude to ladies, when he +is<br> + paid to protect them. If you choose to take advantage of the<br> + weakness of our unfortunate friend, no doubt you are legally<br> + entitled to take her. But if you fancy you have any legal right +to<br> + bully us, you will find yourself in the wrong box.'</p> + +<p>"The truth and dignity of this staggered the policeman for +a<br> + moment. Under cover of their advantage my five persecutors +turned<br> + for an instant on me faces like faces of the damned and then<br> + swished off into the darkness. When the constable first turned +his<br> + lantern and his suspicions on to them, I had seen the +telegraphic<br> + look flash from face to face saying that only retreat was +possible<br> + now.</p> + +<p>"By this time I was sinking slowly to the pavement, in a state +of<br> + acute reflection. So long as the ruffians were with me, I dared +not<br> + quit the role of drunkard. For if I had begun to talk +reasonably<br> + and explain the real case, the officer would merely have +thought<br> + that I was slightly recovered and would have put me in charge of +my<br> + 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<br> + it may doubtless sometimes lie in the narrow path of duty for +a<br> + clergyman of the Church of England to pretend to be a drunken +old<br> + woman; but such necessities are, I imagine, sufficiently rare +to<br> + appear to many improbable. Suppose the story got about that I +had<br> + pretended to be drunk. Suppose people did not all think it +was<br> + pretence!</p> + +<p>"I lurched up, the policeman half-lifting me. I went along +weakly<br> + and quietly for about a hundred yards. The officer evidently<br> + thought that I was too sleepy and feeble to effect an escape, +and<br> + so held me lightly and easily enough. Past one turning, two<br> + turnings, three turnings, four turnings, he trailed me with +him,<br> + a limp and slow and reluctant figure. At the fourth turning, +I<br> + suddenly broke from his hand and tore down the street like a<br> + maddened stag. He was unprepared, he was heavy, and it was +dark.<br> + I ran and ran and ran, and in five minutes' running, found I +was<br> + gaining. In half an hour I was out in the fields under the +holy<br> + and blessed stars, where I tore off my accursed shawl and +bonnet<br> + and buried them in clean earth."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman had finished his story and leant back in +his<br> + chair. Both the matter and the manner of his narration had, +as<br> + time went on, impressed me favourably. He was an old duffer +and<br> + pedant, but behind these things he was a country-bred man +and<br> + gentleman, and had showed courage and a sporting instinct in +the<br> + hour of desperation. He had told his story with many quaint<br> + 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<br> + servile energy, "and now, Mr Swinburne, what about that +unhappy<br> + man Hawker. I cannot tell what those men meant, or how far +what<br> + they said was real. But surely there is danger. I cannot go to +the<br> + police, for reasons that you perceive. Among other things, +they<br> + 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<br> + and I were to have gone to the same dinner tonight; but he +will<br> + just have come back by now. Have you any objection to taking +a<br> + cab?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," he replied, rising politely, and gathering up +his<br> + absurd plaid shawl.</p> + +<p>A rattle in a hansom brought us underneath the sombre pile +of<br> + workmen's flats in Lambeth which Grant inhabited; a climb up +a<br> + wearisome wooden staircase brought us to his garret. When I<br> + entered that wooden and scrappy interior, the white gleam of<br> + Basil's shirt-front and the lustre of his fur coat flung on +the<br> + wooden settle, struck me as a contrast. He was drinking a +glass<br> + of wine before retiring. I was right; he had come back from +the<br> + dinner-party.</p> + +<p>He listened to the repetition of the story of the Rev. +Ellis<br> + Shorter with the genuine simplicity and respect which he +never<br> + failed to exhibit in dealing with any human being. When it +was<br> + 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<br> + worthy collector of chimpanzees with whom I ought to have +dined<br> + that evening, that I glanced sharply at Grant. The result +was<br> + that I did not look at Mr Shorter. I only heard him answer, +in<br> + his most nervous tone, "No."</p> + +<p>Basil, however, seemed to find something very curious about +his<br> + answer or his demeanour generally, for he kept his big blue +eyes<br> + fixed on the old clergyman, and though the eyes were quite +quiet<br> + they stood out more and more from his head.</p> + +<p>"You are quite sure, Mr Shorter," he repeated, "that you +don't<br> + know Captain Fraser?"</p> + +<p>"Quite," answered the vicar, and I was certainly puzzled +to<br> + find him returning so much to the timidity, not to say the<br> + 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<br> + investigation, my dear Mr Shorter; the first thing for us to do +is<br> + 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<br> + again, and put his hands in his pockets.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he said, with emphasis. "Oh--you don't think it +necessary;<br> + then," and he added the words with great clearness and<br> + deliberation, "then, Mr Ellis Shorter, I can only say that I +would<br> + like to see you without your whiskers."</p> + +<p>And at these words I also rose to my feet, for the great +tragedy<br> + of my life had come. Splendid and exciting as life was in<br> + continual contact with an intellect like Basil's, I had always +the<br> + feeling that that splendour and excitement were on the +borderland<br> + of sanity. He lived perpetually near the vision of the reason +of<br> + things which makes men lose their reason. And I felt of his<br> + insanity as men feel of the death of friends with heart +disease.<br> + It might come anywhere, in a field, in a hansom cab, looking at +a<br> + sunset, smoking a cigarette. It had come now. At the very +moment<br> + of delivering a judgement for the salvation of a fellow +creature,<br> + Basil Grant had gone mad.</p> + +<p>"Your whiskers," he cried, advancing with blazing eyes. "Give +me<br> + your whiskers. And your bald head."</p> + +<p>The old vicar naturally retreated a step or two. I stepped<br> + between.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Basil," I implored, "you're a little excited. +Finish<br> + 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<br> + for the door, but was intercepted. And then, before I knew where +I<br> + was the quiet room was turned into something between a +pantomime<br> + and a pandemonium by those two. Chairs were flung over with +a<br> + crash, tables were vaulted with a noise like thunder, screens +were<br> + smashed, crockery scattered in smithereens, and still Basil +Grant<br> + bounded and bellowed after the Rev. Ellis Shorter.</p> + +<p>And now I began to perceive something else, which added the +last<br> + half-witted touch to my mystification. The Rev. Ellis Shorter, +of<br> + Chuntsey, in Essex, was by no means behaving as I had +previously<br> + noticed him to behave, or as, considering his age and station, +I<br> + should have expected him to behave. His power of dodging, +leaping,<br> + and fighting would have been amazing in a lad of seventeen, and +in<br> + this doddering old vicar looked like a sort of farcical<br> + fairy-tale. Moreover, he did not seem to be so much astonished +as<br> + I had thought. There was even a look of something like +enjoyment<br> + in his eyes; so there was in the eye of Basil. In fact, the<br> + 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.<br> + It's quite legal. And it doesn't do any one the least harm. +It's<br> + 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<br> + whiskers. And your bald head. Do they belong to Captain +Fraser?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Mr Shorter, laughing, "we provide them +ourselves.<br> + They don't belong to Captain Fraser."</p> + +<p>"What the deuce does all this mean?" I almost screamed. "Are +you<br> + all in an infernal nightmare? Why should Mr Shorter's bald +head<br> + belong to Captain Fraser? How could it? What the deuce has +Captain<br> + Fraser to do with the affair? What is the matter with him? +You<br> + 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.<br> + "Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Basil, with a slow and singular smile, "the fact +is I<br> + was detained by a visitor. I have him, as a point of fact, in +my<br> + bedroom."</p> + +<p>"In your bedroom?" I repeated; but my imagination had reached +that<br> + point when he might have said in his coal scuttle or his +waistcoat<br> + pocket.</p> + +<p>Grant stepped to the door of an inner room, flung it open +and<br> + walked in. Then he came out again with the last of the +bodily<br> + wonders of that wild night. He introduced into the +sitting-room,<br> + in an apologetic manner, and by the nape of the neck, a limp<br> + clergyman with a bald head, white whiskers and a plaid +shawl.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, gentlemen," cried Grant, striking his hands +heartily.<br> + "Sit down all of you and have a glass of wine. As you say, there +is<br> + no harm in it, and if Captain Fraser had simply dropped me a +hint I<br> + could have saved him from dropping a good sum of money. Not +that<br> + you would have liked that, eh?"</p> + +<p>The two duplicate clergymen, who were sipping their Burgundy +with<br> + two duplicate grins, laughed heartily at this, and one of +them<br> + 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.<br> + These two gentlemen (whose health I have now the pleasure of<br> + 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<br> + been the Rev. Ellis Shorter, of Chuntsey, in Essex; and it +gave<br> + me a shock indescribable to hear out of that pompous and +familiar<br> + form come no longer its own pompous and familiar voice, but +the<br> + brisk sharp tones of a young city man. "It is really nothing +very<br> + important. We are paid by our clients to detain in +conversation,<br> + on some harmless pretext, people whom they want out of the +way<br> + for a few hours. And Captain Fraser--" and with that he +hesitated<br> + and smiled.</p> + +<p>Basil smiled also. He intervened.</p> + +<p>"The fact is that Captain Fraser, who is one of my best +friends,<br> + wanted us both out of the way very much. He is sailing tonight +for<br> + East Africa, and the lady with whom we were all to have dined +is--<br> + er--what is I believe described as `the romance of his life'. +He<br> + wanted that two hours with her, and employed these two +reverend<br> + gentlemen to detain us at our houses so as to let him have +the<br> + field to himself."</p> + +<p>"And of course," said the late Mr Shorter apologetically to +me, "as<br> + I had to keep a gentleman at home from keeping an appointment +with<br> + a lady, I had to come with something rather hot and +strong--rather<br> + 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<br> + for any recommendation, sir."</p> + +<p>The other man idly pushed back his artificial bald head, +revealing<br> + close red hair, and spoke dreamily, perhaps under the influence +of<br> + Basil's admirable Burgundy.</p> + +<p>"It's wonderful how common it's getting, gentlemen. Our office +is<br> + busy from morning till night. I've no doubt you've often +knocked<br> + up against us before. You just take notice. When an old +bachelor<br> + goes on boring you with hunting stories, when you're burning to +be<br> + introduced to somebody, he's from our bureau. When a lady calls +on<br> + parish work and stops hours, just when you wanted to go to +the<br> + Robinsons', she's from our bureau. The Robinson hand, sir, may +be<br> + darkly seen."</p> + +<p>"There is one thing I don't understand," I said. "Why you are +both<br> + vicars."</p> + +<p>A shade crossed the brow of the temporary incumbent of +Chuntsey, in<br> + Essex.</p> + +<p>"That may have been a mistake, sir," he said. "But it was not +our<br> + fault. It was all the munificence of Captain Fraser. He +requested<br> + that the highest price and talent on our tariff should be +employed<br> + to detain you gentlemen. Now the highest payment in our office +goes<br> + to those who impersonate vicars, as being the most respectable +and<br> + more of a strain. We are paid five guineas a visit. We have had +the<br> + good fortune to satisfy the firm with our work; and we are +now<br> + permanently vicars. Before that we had two years as colonels, +the<br> + next in our scale. Colonels are four guineas."</p> + +<h2>Chapter 4</h2> + +<h3>The Singular Speculation of the House-Agent</h3> + +<p>Lieutenant Drummond Keith was a man about whom conversation +always<br> + burst like a thunderstorm the moment he left the room. This +arose<br> + from many separate touches about him. He was a light, loose<br> + person, who wore light, loose clothes, generally white, as if +he<br> + were in the tropics; he was lean and graceful, like a panther, +and<br> + he had restless black eyes.</p> + +<p>He was very impecunious. He had one of the habits of the +poor,<br> + in a degree so exaggerated as immeasurably to eclipse the +most<br> + miserable of the unemployed; I mean the habit of continual +change<br> + of lodgings. There are inland tracts of London where, in the +very<br> + heart of artificial civilization, humanity has almost become<br> + nomadic once more. But in that restless interior there was +no<br> + ragged tramp so restless as the elegant officer in the loose +white<br> + clothes. He had shot a great many things in his time, to +judge<br> + from his conversation, from partridges to elephants, but his<br> + slangier acquaintances were of opinion that "the moon" had +been<br> + not unfrequently amid the victims of his victorious rifle. +The<br> + phrase is a fine one, and suggests a mystic, elvish, +nocturnal<br> + hunting.</p> + +<p><br> + He carried from house to house and from parish to parish a +kit<br> + which consisted practically of five articles. Two +odd-looking,<br> + large-bladed spears, tied together, the weapons, I suppose, +of<br> + some savage tribe, a green umbrella, a huge and tattered copy +of<br> + the Pickwick Papers, a big game rifle, and a large sealed jar +of<br> + some unholy Oriental wine. These always went into every new<br> + lodging, even for one night; and they went in quite +undisguised,<br> + tied up in wisps of string or straw, to the delight of the +poetic<br> + gutter boys in the little grey streets.</p> + +<p>I had forgotten to mention that he always carried also his +old<br> + regimental sword. But this raised another odd question about +him.<br> + Slim and active as he was, he was no longer very young. His +hair,<br> + indeed, was quite grey, though his rather wild almost +Italian<br> + moustache retained its blackness, and his face was careworn +under<br> + its almost Italian gaiety. To find a middle-aged man who has +left<br> + the Army at the primitive rank of lieutenant is unusual and +not<br> + necessarily encouraging. With the more cautious and solid +this<br> + fact, like his endless flitting, did the mysterious gentleman +no<br> + good.</p> + +<p>Lastly, he was a man who told the kind of adventures which win +a<br> + man admiration, but not respect. They came out of queer +places,<br> + where a good man would scarcely find himself, out of opium dens +and<br> + gambling hells; they had the heat of the thieves' kitchens +or<br> + smelled of a strange smoke from cannibal incantations. These +are<br> + the kind of stories which discredit a person almost equally +whether<br> + they are believed or no. If Keith's tales were false he was a +liar;<br> + if they were true he had had, at any rate, every opportunity +of<br> + being a scamp.</p> + +<p>He had just left the room in which I sat with Basil Grant and +his<br> + brother Rupert, the voluble amateur detective. And as I say +was<br> + invariably the case, we were all talking about him. Rupert +Grant<br> + was a clever young fellow, but he had that tendency which youth +and<br> + cleverness, when sharply combined, so often produce, a +somewhat<br> + extravagant scepticism. He saw doubt and guilt everywhere, and +it<br> + was meat and drink to him. I had often got irritated with +this<br> + boyish incredulity of his, but on this particular occasion I +am<br> + bound to say that I thought him so obviously right that I +was<br> + astounded at Basil's opposing him, however banteringly.</p> + +<p>I could swallow a good deal, being naturally of a simple turn, +but<br> + I could not swallow Lieutenant Keith's autobiography.</p> + +<p>"You don't seriously mean, Basil," I said, "that you think +that<br> + that fellow really did go as a stowaway with Nansen and pretend +to<br> + be the Mad Mullah and--"</p> + +<p>"He has one fault," said Basil thoughtfully, "or virtue, as +you<br> + may happen to regard it. He tells the truth in too exact and +bald<br> + a style; he is too veracious."</p> + +<p>"Oh! if you are going to be paradoxical," said Rupert<br> + contemptuously, "be a bit funnier than that. Say, for +instance,<br> + that he has lived all his life in one ancestral manor."</p> + +<p>"No, he's extremely fond of change of scene," replied +Basil<br> + dispassionately, "and of living in odd places. That doesn't<br> + prevent his chief trait being verbal exactitude. What you +people<br> + don't understand is that telling a thing crudely and coarsely +as<br> + it happened makes it sound frightfully strange. The sort of +things<br> + Keith recounts are not the sort of things that a man would make +up<br> + to cover himself with honour; they are too absurd. But they +are<br> + the sort of things that a man would do if he were +sufficiently<br> + filled with the soul of skylarking."</p> + +<p>"So far from paradox," said his brother, with something +rather<br> + like a sneer, "you seem to be going in for journalese proverbs. +Do<br> + you believe that truth is stranger than fiction?"</p> + +<p>"Truth must of necessity be stranger than fiction," said +Basil<br> + placidly. "For fiction is the creation of the human mind, +and<br> + therefore is congenial to it."</p> + +<p>"Well, your lieutenant's truth is stranger, if it is truth, +than<br> + anything I ever heard of," said Rupert, relapsing into +flippancy.<br> + "Do you, on your soul, believe in all that about the shark and +the<br> + camera?"</p> + +<p>"I believe Keith's words," answered the other. "He is an +honest<br> + man."</p> + +<p>"I should like to question a regiment of his landladies," +said<br> + Rupert cynically.</p> + +<p>"I must say, I think you can hardly regard him as +unimpeachable<br> + merely in himself," I said mildly; "his mode of life--"</p> + +<p>Before I could complete the sentence the door was flung open +and<br> + Drummond Keith appeared again on the threshold, his white +Panama<br> + on his head.</p> + +<p>"I say, Grant," he said, knocking off his cigarette ash +against<br> + the door, "I've got no money in the world till next April. +Could<br> + 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,<br> + who was sitting by his desk, swung the chair round idly on +its<br> + 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<br> + Lieutenant Keith has seen fit to make this suggestion to +Basil<br> + before his family, I--"</p> + +<p>"Here you are, Ugly," said Basil, fluttering a cheque in +the<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + on the tip of his tongue to say, inquiringly, "Receiver of +stolen<br> + goods, perhaps." What he did say was:</p> + +<p>"A business man? That's rather a general description, +Lieutenant<br> + Keith."</p> + +<p>Keith looked at him sharply, and then said, with something +rather<br> + 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<br> + grimly. "Do you know, Mr Keith, I think I should very much like +to<br> + go with you?"</p> + +<p>Basil shook with his soundless laughter. Lieutenant Keith +started<br> + 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<br> + irony, and he answered:</p> + +<p>"I was saying that I wondered whether you would mind our +strolling<br> + 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.<br> + Look under my bed. Examine my dust-bin. Come along!" And with +a<br> + furious energy which took away our breath he banged his way out +of<br> + the room.</p> + +<p>Rupert Grant, his restless blue eyes dancing with his +detective<br> + excitement, soon shouldered alongside him, talking to him with +that<br> + transparent camaraderie which he imagined to be appropriate +from<br> + the disguised policeman to the disguised criminal. His<br> + interpretation was certainly corroborated by one particular +detail,<br> + the unmistakable unrest, annoyance, and nervousness of the man +with<br> + whom he walked. Basil and I tramped behind, and it was not<br> + necessary for us to tell each other that we had both noticed +this.</p> + +<p>Lieutenant Drummond Keith led us through very extraordinary +and<br> + unpromising neighbourhoods in the search for his remarkable<br> + house-agent. Neither of the brothers Grant failed to notice +this<br> + fact. As the streets grew closer and more crooked and the +roofs<br> + lower and the gutters grosser with mud, a darker curiosity +deepened<br> + on the brows of Basil, and the figure of Rupert seen from +behind<br> + seemed to fill the street with a gigantic swagger of success. +At<br> + length, at the end of the fourth or fifth lean grey street in +that<br> + sterile district, we came suddenly to a halt, the mysterious<br> + lieutenant looking once more about him with a sort of sulky<br> + desperation. Above a row of shutters and a door, all +indescribably<br> + dingy in appearance and in size scarce sufficient even for a +penny<br> + toyshop, ran the inscription: "P. Montmorency, House-Agent."</p> + +<p>"This is the office of which I spoke," said Keith, in a +cutting<br> + voice. "Will you wait here a moment, or does your +astonishing<br> + tenderness about my welfare lead you to wish to overhear +everything<br> + I have to say to my business adviser?"</p> + +<p>Rupert's face was white and shaking with excitement; nothing +on<br> + 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<br> + back, "I think I should feel myself justified in--"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Come along in," exploded the lieutenant. He made the +same<br> + gesture of savage surrender. And he slammed into the office, +the<br> + rest of us at his heels.</p> + +<p>P. Montmorency, House-Agent, was a solitary old gentleman +sitting<br> + behind a bare brown counter. He had an egglike head, froglike +jaws,<br> + and a grey hairy fringe of aureole round the lower part of +his<br> + face; the whole combined with a reddish, aquiline nose. He wore +a<br> + shabby black frock-coat, a sort of semi-clerical tie worn at a +very<br> + unclerical angle, and looked, generally speaking, about as +unlike a<br> + house-agent as anything could look, short of something like +a<br> + sandwich man or a Scotch Highlander.</p> + +<p>We stood inside the room for fully forty seconds, and the odd +old<br> + gentleman did not look at us. Neither, to tell the truth, odd as +he<br> + was, did we look at him. Our eyes were fixed, where his were +fixed,<br> + upon something that was crawling about on the counter in front +of<br> + him. It was a ferret.</p> + +<p>The silence was broken by Rupert Grant. He spoke in that sweet +and<br> + steely voice which he reserved for great occasions and +practised<br> + 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<br> + bewilderment, picked up the ferret by the neck, stuffed it +alive<br> + 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<br> + wandered unquietly towards Lieutenant Keith, the only man +present<br> + that he knew.</p> + +<p>"A house-agent," cried Rupert again, bringing out the word as +if it<br> + were "burglar'.</p> + +<p>"Yes . . . oh, yes," said the man, with a quavering and +almost<br> + coquettish smile. "I am a house-agent . . . oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think," said Rupert, with a sardonic sleekness, +"that<br> + Lieutenant Keith wants to speak to you. We have come in by +his<br> + 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<br> + counter. "It's all ready, sir. I've attended to all your<br> + suggestions er--about the br--"</p> + +<p>"Right," cried Keith, cutting the word short with the +startling<br> + neatness of a gunshot. "We needn't bother about all that. If<br> + 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<br> + stammering a moment he said: "Excuse me . . . Mr Keith . . . +there<br> + was another matter . . . about which I wasn't quite sure. I +tried<br> + to get all the heating apparatus possible under the +circumstances<br> + . . . but in winter . . . at that elevation . . ."</p> + +<p>"Can't expect much, eh?" said the lieutenant, cutting in +with<br> + the same sudden skill. "No, of course not. That's all right,<br> + Montmorency. There can't be any more difficulties," and he +put<br> + his hand on the handle of the door.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Rupert Grant, with a satanic suavity, "that +Mr<br> + Montmorency has something further to say to you, +lieutenant."</p> + +<p>"Only," said the house-agent, in desperation, "what about +the<br> + 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 procedings in a state +of<br> + Napoleonic calm, which might be more accurately described as +a<br> + state of Napoleonic stupidity, suddenly lifted his leonine +head.</p> + +<p>"Before you go, Lieutenant Keith," he said. "Come now. +Really,<br> + what about the birds?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take care of them," said Lieutenant Keith, still with +his<br> + long back turned to us; "they shan't suffer."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir, thank you," cried the incomprehensible<br> + house-agent, with an air of ecstasy. "You'll excuse my +concern,<br> + sir. You know I'm wild on wild animals. I'm as wild as any +of<br> + them on that. Thank you, sir. But there's another thing. . +."</p> + +<p>The lieutenant, with his back turned to us, exploded with +an<br> + indescribable laugh and swung round to face us. It was a +laugh,<br> + the purport of which was direct and essential, and yet which +one<br> + cannot exactly express. As near as it said anything, +verbally<br> + speaking, it said: "Well, if you must spoil it, you must. But +you<br> + don't know what you're spoiling."</p> + +<p>"There is another thing," continued Mr Montmorency weakly. +"Of<br> + course, if you don't want to be visited you'll paint the +house<br> + green, but--"</p> + +<p>"Green!" shouted Keith. "Green! Let it be green or nothing. +I<br> + won't have a house of another colour. Green!" and before we +could<br> + 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<br> + he spoke before the echoes of the door died away.</p> + +<p>"Your client, Lieutenant Keith, appears somewhat excited," +he<br> + said. "What is the matter with him? Is he unwell?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I should think not," said Mr Montmorency, in some +confusion.<br> + "The negotiations have been somewhat difficult--the house is<br> + rather--"</p> + +<p>"Green," said Rupert calmly. "That appears to be a very +important<br> + point. It must be rather green. May I ask you, Mr +Montmorency,<br> + before I rejoin my companion outside, whether, in your +business,<br> + it is usual to ask for houses by their colour? Do clients +write<br> + to a house-agent asking for a pink house or a blue house? Or, +to<br> + 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<br> + in which a green house would be inconspicuous?"</p> + +<p>The house-agent was fidgeting nervously in his pocket. +Slowly<br> + drawing out a couple of lizards and leaving them to run on +the<br> + 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<br> + to suggest a sudden situation, "I can't. And may I, as a busy +man,<br> + be excused if I ask you, gentlemen, if you have any demand to +make<br> + of me in connection with my business. What kind of house would +you<br> + desire me to get for you, sir?"</p> + +<p>He opened his blank blue eyes on Rupert, who seemed for the +second<br> + staggered. Then he recovered himself with perfect common sense +and<br> + answered:</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Mr Montmorency. The fascination of your remarks +has<br> + unduly delayed us from joining our friend outside. Pray excuse +my<br> + apparent impertinence."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, sir," said the house-agent, taking a South +American<br> + spider idly from his waistcoat pocket and letting it climb up +the<br> + slope of his desk. "Not at all, sir. I hope you will favour +me<br> + again."</p> + +<p>Rupert Grant dashed out of the office in a gust of anger, +anxious<br> + to face Lieutenant Keith. He was gone. The dull, starlit street +was<br> + deserted.</p> + +<p>"What do you say now?" cried Rupert to his brother. His +brother<br> + said nothing now.</p> + +<p>We all three strode down the street in silence, Rupert +feverish,<br> + myself dazed, Basil, to all appearance, merely dull. We +walked<br> + through grey street after grey street, turning corners, +traversing<br> + squares, scarcely meeting anyone, except occasional drunken +knots<br> + of two or three.</p> + +<p>In one small street, however, the knots of two or three +began<br> + abruptly to thicken into knots of five or six and then into +great<br> + groups and then into a crowd. The crowd was stirring very +slightly.<br> + But anyone with a knowledge of the eternal populace knows that +if<br> + the outside rim of a crowd stirs ever so slightly it means +that<br> + there is madness in the heart and core of the mob. It soon +became<br> + evident that something really important had happened in the +centre<br> + of this excitement. We wormed our way to the front, with the<br> + cunning which is known only to cockneys, and once there we +soon<br> + learned the nature of the difficulty. There had been a brawl<br> + concerned with some six men, and one of them lay almost dead on +the<br> + stones of the street. Of the other four, all interesting +matters<br> + were, as far as we were concerned, swallowed up in one +stupendous<br> + fact. One of the four survivors of the brutal and perhaps +fatal<br> + scuffle was the immaculate Lieutenant Keith, his clothes torn +to<br> + ribbons, his eyes blazing, blood on his knuckles. One other +thing,<br> + however, pointed at him in a worse manner. A short sword, or +very<br> + long knife, had been drawn out of his elegant walking-stick, +and<br> + lay in front of him upon the stones. It did not, however, appear +to<br> + be bloody.</p> + +<p>The police had already pushed into the centre with their +ponderous<br> + omnipotence, and even as they did so, Rupert Grant sprang +forward<br> + with his incontrollable and intolerable secret.</p> + +<p>"That is the man, constable," he shouted, pointing at the +battered<br> + lieutenant. "He is a suspicious character. He did the +murder."</p> + +<p>"There's been no murder done, sir," said the policeman, with +his<br> + automatic civility. "The poor man's only hurt. I shall only +be<br> + able to take the names and addresses of the men in the +scuffle<br> + and have a good eye kept on them."</p> + +<p>"Have a good eye kept on that one," said Rupert, pale to the +lips,<br> + and pointing to the ragged Keith.</p> + +<p>"All right, sir," said the policeman unemotionally, and went +the<br> + round of the people present, collecting the addresses. When he +had<br> + completed his task the dusk had fallen and most of the people +not<br> + immediately connected with the examination had gone away. He +still<br> + found, however, one eager-faced stranger lingering on the<br> + outskirts of the affair. It was Rupert Grant.</p> + +<p>"Constable," he said, "I have a very particular reason for +asking<br> + you a question. Would you mind telling me whether that +military<br> + fellow who dropped his sword-stick in the row gave you an +address<br> + or not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the policeman, after a reflective pause; +"yes, he<br> + gave me his address."</p> + +<p>"My name is Rupert Grant," said that individual, with some +pomp.<br> + "I have assisted the police on more than one occasion. I +wonder<br> + 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,<br> + Buxton Common, near Purley, Surrey."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Rupert, and ran home through the gathering +night<br> + as fast as his legs could carry him, repeating the address +to<br> + himself.</p> + +<p>Rupert Grant generally came down late in a rather lordly way +to<br> + breakfast; he contrived, I don't know how, to achieve always +the<br> + attitude of the indulged younger brother. Next morning, +however,<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + anything of him."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear it," said Rupert, buttering his toast with +an<br> + energy that was somewhat exultant. "I thought you'd come round +to<br> + my view, but I own I was startled at your not seeing it from +the<br> + beginning. The man is a translucent liar and knave."</p> + +<p>"I think," said Basil, in the same heavy monotone as before, +"that<br> + I did not make myself clear. When I said that I thought nothing +of<br> + him I meant grammatically what I said. I meant that I did not +think<br> + about him; that he did not occupy my mind. You, however, seem to +me<br> + to think a lot of him, since you think him a knave. I should say +he<br> + was glaringly good myself."</p> + +<p>"I sometimes think you talk paradox for its own sake," said +Rupert,<br> + breaking an egg with unnecessary sharpness. "What the deuce is +the<br> + sense of it? Here's a man whose original position was, by +our<br> + common agreement, dubious. He's a wanderer, a teller of tall +tales,<br> + a man who doesn't conceal his acquaintance with all the +blackest<br> + and bloodiest scenes on earth. We take the trouble to follow him +to<br> + one of his appointments, and if ever two human beings were +plotting<br> + together and lying to every one else, he and that impossible<br> + house-agent were doing it. We followed him home, and the very +same<br> + night he is in the thick of a fatal, or nearly fatal, brawl, +in<br> + which he is the only man armed. Really, if this is being +glaringly<br> + 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<br> + certain kind, a quaint, perhaps a casual kind. He is very fond +of<br> + change and experiment. But all the points you so ingeniously +make<br> + against him are mere coincidence or special pleading. It's true +he<br> + didn't want to talk about his house business in front of us. +No<br> + man would. It's true that he carries a sword-stick. Any man +might.<br> + It's true he drew it in the shock of a street fight. Any man<br> + would. But there's nothing really dubious in all this. +There's<br> + 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,<br> + "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<br> + almost as soon as he appeared there.</p> + +<p>"I think one of you gentlemen," he said, curtly but +respectfully,<br> + "was present at the affair in Copper Street last night, and +drew<br> + my attention very strongly to a particular man."</p> + +<p>Rupert half rose from his chair, with eyes like diamonds, but +the<br> + constable went on calmly, referring to a paper.</p> + +<p>"A young man with grey hair. Had light grey clothes, very +good, but<br> + 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<br> + clearing that poor officer's character of rather fanciful<br> + aspersions. What about him?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," said the constable, "I took all the men's +addresses<br> + and had them all watched. It wasn't serious enough to do more +than<br> + that. All the other addresses are all right. But this man +Keith<br> + gave a false address. The place doesn't exist."</p> + +<p>The breakfast table was nearly flung over as Rupert sprang +up,<br> + 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<br> + knitted brows. "It's odd the fellow should have given a +false<br> + address, considering he was perfectly innocent in the--"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you jolly old early Christian duffer," cried Rupert, in +a<br> + sort of rapture, "I don't wonder you couldn't be a judge. +You<br> + think every one as good as yourself. Isn't the thing plain +enough<br> + now? A doubtful acquaintance; rowdy stories, a most +suspicious<br> + conversation, mean streets, a concealed knife, a man nearly<br> + killed, and, finally, a false address. That's what we call +glaring<br> + goodness."</p> + +<p>"It's certainly very extraordinary," repeated Basil. And +he<br> + strolled moodily about the room. Then he said: "You are +quite<br> + sure, constable, that there's no mistake? You got the +address<br> + right, and the police have really gone to it and found it was +a<br> + fraud?"</p> + +<p>"It was very simple, sir," said the policeman, chuckling. +"The<br> + place he named was a well-known common quite near London, and +our<br> + people were down there this morning before any of you were +awake.<br> + And there's no such house. In fact, there are hardly any houses +at<br> + all. Though it is so near London, it's a blank moor with +hardly<br> + five trees on it, to say nothing of Christians. Oh, no, sir, +the<br> + address was a fraud right enough. He was a clever rascal, +and<br> + chose one of those scraps of lost England that people know +nothing<br> + about. Nobody could say off-hand that there was not a +particular<br> + house dropped somewhere about the heath. But as a fact, +there<br> + isn't."</p> + +<p>Basil's face during this sensible speech had been growing +darker<br> + and darker with a sort of desperate sagacity. He was +cornered<br> + almost for the first time since I had known him; and to tell +the<br> + truth I rather wondered at the almost childish obstinacy which +kept<br> + him so close to his original prejudice in favour of the +wildly<br> + questionable lieutenant. At length he said:</p> + +<p>"You really searched the common? And the address was really +not<br> + 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,<br> + but before he could speak Rupert Grant, who was leaning in +the<br> + window in a perfect posture of the quiet and triumphant +detective,<br> + 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<br> + plucked leaves from a plant in the window. "I took the +precaution<br> + 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,<br> + looking sweetly at the ceiling. "It was: The Elms, Buxton<br> + Common, near Purley, Surrey."</p> + +<p>"Right, sir," said the policeman, laughing and folding up +his<br> + papers.</p> + +<p>There was a silence, and the blue eyes of Basil looked blindly +for<br> + a few seconds into the void. Then his head fell back in his +chair<br> + so suddenly that I started up, thinking him ill. But before I +could<br> + move further his lips had flown apart (I can use no other +phrase)<br> + and a peal of gigantic laughter struck and shook the +ceiling--<br> + laughter that shook the laughter, laughter redoubled, +laughter<br> + incurable, laughter that could not stop.</p> + +<p>Two whole minutes afterwards it was still unended; Basil was +ill<br> + with laughter; but still he laughed. The rest of us were by +this<br> + time ill almost with terror.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," said the insane creature, getting at last to his +feet.<br> + "I am awfully sorry. It is horribly rude. And stupid, too. And +also<br> + unpractical, because we have not much time to lose if we're to +get<br> + down to that place. The train service is confoundedly bad, as +I<br> + happen to know. It's quite out of proportion to the +comparatively<br> + small distance."</p> + +<p>"Get down to that place?" I repeated blankly. "Get down to +what<br> + place?"</p> + +<p>"I have forgotten its name," said Basil vaguely, putting his +hands<br> + in his pockets as he rose. "Something Common near Purley. Has +any<br> + one got a timetable?"</p> + +<p>"You don't seriously mean," cried Rupert, who had been staring +in<br> + a sort of confusion of emotions. "You don't mean that you want +to<br> + 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<br> + of the plant in the window and staring at the speaker.</p> + +<p>"To find our friend, the lieutenant, of course," said Basil +Grant.<br> + "I thought you wanted to find him?"</p> + +<p>Rupert broke a branch brutally from the plant and flung it<br> + impatiently on the floor. "And in order to find him," he +said,<br> + "you suggest the admirable expedient of going to the only +place<br> + 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<br> + assenting laugh, and Rupert, who had family eloquence, was<br> + encouraged to go on with a reiterated gesture:</p> + +<p>"He may be in Buckingham Palace; he may be sitting astride +the<br> + cross of St Paul's; he may be in jail (which I think most +likely);<br> + he may be in the Great Wheel; he may be in my pantry; he may be +in<br> + your store cupboard; but out of all the innumerable points +of<br> + space, there is only one where he has just been +systematically<br> + looked for and where we know that he is not to be found--and +that,<br> + if I understand you rightly, is where you want us to go."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said Basil calmly, getting into his great-coat; +"I<br> + thought you might care to accompany me. If not, of course, +make<br> + yourselves jolly here till I come back."</p> + +<p>It is our nature always to follow vanishing things and value +them<br> + if they really show a resolution to depart. We all followed +Basil,<br> + and I cannot say why, except that he was a vanishing thing, +that<br> + he vanished decisively with his great-coat and his stick. +Rupert<br> + 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<br> + in going down to this ridiculous scrub, where there is nothing +but<br> + beaten tracks and a few twisted trees, simply because it was +the<br> + first place that came into a rowdy lieutenant's head when he +wanted<br> + to give a lying reference in a scrape?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Basil, taking out his watch, "and, what's worse, +we've<br> + lost the train."</p> + +<p>He paused a moment and then added: "As a matter of fact, I +think<br> + we may just as well go down later in the day. I have some +writing<br> + to do, and I think you told me, Rupert, that you thought of +going<br> + to the Dulwich Gallery. I was rather too impetuous. Very likely +he<br> + wouldn't be in. But if we get down by the 5.15, which gets +to<br> + 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<br> + we could. Where the deuce shall we catch him now?"</p> + +<p>"I keep forgetting the name of the common," said Basil, as +he<br> + buttoned up his coat. "The Elms--what is it? Buxton Common, +near<br> + Purley. That's where we shall find him."</p> + +<p>"But there is no such place," groaned Rupert; but he followed +his<br> + brother downstairs.</p> + +<p>We all followed him. We snatched our hats from the hat-stand +and<br> + our sticks from the umbrella-stand; and why we followed him we +did<br> + not and do not know. But we always followed him, whatever was +the<br> + meaning of the fact, whatever was the nature of his mastery. +And<br> + the strange thing was that we followed him the more completely +the<br> + more nonsensical appeared the thing which he said. At bottom, +I<br> + believe, if he had risen from our breakfast table and said: "I +am<br> + going to find the Holy Pig with Ten Tails," we should have +followed<br> + him to the end of the world.</p> + +<p>I don't know whether this mystical feeling of mine about Basil +on<br> + this occasion has got any of the dark and cloudy colour, so +to<br> + speak, of the strange journey that we made the same evening. It +was<br> + already very dense twilight when we struck southward from +Purley.<br> + Suburbs and things on the London border may be, in most +cases,<br> + commonplace and comfortable. But if ever by any chance they +really<br> + are empty solitudes they are to the human spirit more desolate +and<br> + dehumanized than any Yorkshire moors or Highland hills, because +the<br> + suddenness with which the traveller drops into that silence +has<br> + something about it as of evil elf-land. It seems to be one of +the<br> + ragged suburbs of the cosmos half-forgotten by God--such a +place<br> + was Buxton Common, near Purley.</p> + +<p>There was certainly a sort of grey futility in the +landscape<br> + itself. But it was enormously increased by the sense of grey<br> + futility in our expedition. The tracts of grey turf looked<br> + useless, the occasional wind-stricken trees looked useless, +but<br> + we, the human beings, more useless than the hopeless turf or +the<br> + idle trees. We were maniacs akin to the foolish landscape, for +we<br> + were come to chase the wild goose which has led men and left +men<br> + in bogs from the beginning. We were three dazed men under +the<br> + captaincy of a madman going to look for a man whom we knew was +not<br> + there in a house that had no existence. A livid sunset seemed +to<br> + 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<br> + the gloom rather like a grotesque Napoleon. We crossed swell +after<br> + swell of the windy common in increasing darkness and entire<br> + silence. Suddenly Basil stopped and turned to us, his hands in +his<br> + pockets. Through the dusk I could just detect that he wore a +broad<br> + grin as of comfortable success.</p> + +<p>"Well," he cried, taking his heavily gloved hands out of +his<br> + pockets and slapping them together, "here we are at last."</p> + +<p>The wind swirled sadly over the homeless heath; two desolate +elms<br> + rocked above us in the sky like shapeless clouds of grey. There +was<br> + not a sign of man or beast to the sullen circle of the horizon, +and<br> + in the midst of that wilderness Basil Grant stood rubbing his +hands<br> + 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<br> + notion that civilization isn't poetical is a civilised +delusion.<br> + Wait till you've really lost yourself in nature, among the +devilish<br> + woodlands and the cruel flowers. Then you'll know that there's +no<br> + star like the red star of man that he lights on his hearthstone; +no<br> + river like the red river of man, the good red wine, which you, +Mr<br> + Rupert Grant, if I have any knowledge of you, will be drinking +in<br> + two or three minutes in enormous quantities."</p> + +<p>Rupert and I exchanged glances of fear. Basil went on +heartily, as<br> + the wind died in the dreary trees.</p> + +<p>"You'll find our host a much more simple kind of fellow in his +own<br> + house. I did when I visited him when he lived in the cabin +at<br> + Yarmouth, and again in the loft at the city warehouse. He's +really<br> + a very good fellow. But his greatest virtue remains what I +said<br> + originally."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" I asked, finding his speech straying +towards a<br> + sort of sanity. "What is his greatest virtue?"</p> + +<p>"His greatest virtue," replied Basil, "is that he always tells +the<br> + literal truth."</p> + +<p>"Well, really," cried Rupert, stamping about between cold +and<br> + anger, and slapping himself like a cabman, "he doesn't seem to +have<br> + been very literal or truthful in this case, nor you either. Why +the<br> + 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<br> + tree; "too hardly veracious, too severely accurate. He should +have<br> + indulged in a little more suggestiveness and legitimate +romance.<br> + 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<br> + a house?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," I said. Then I added aloud, in what was meant +to be<br> + a cheery and sensible voice, but which sounded in my ears almost +as<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + a yard anywhere, and in some places not more than a foot, +between<br> + them. Thus occasional branches and even bosses and boles formed +a<br> + series of footholds that almost amounted to a rude natural +ladder.<br> + They must, I supposed, have been some sport of growth, +Siamese<br> + twins of vegetation.</p> + +<p>Why we did it I cannot think; perhaps, as I have said, the +mystery<br> + of the waste and dark had brought out and made primary +something<br> + wholly mystical in Basil's supremacy. But we only felt that +there<br> + was a giant's staircase going somewhere, perhaps to the stars; +and<br> + the victorious voice above called to us out of heaven. We +hoisted<br> + ourselves up after him.</p> + +<p><br> + Half-way up some cold tongue of the night air struck and sobered +me<br> + suddenly. The hypnotism of the madman above fell from me, and I +saw<br> + the whole map of our silly actions as clearly as if it were<br> + printed. I saw three modern men in black coats who had begun +with a<br> + perfectly sensible suspicion of a doubtful adventurer and who +had<br> + ended, God knows how, half-way up a naked tree on a naked +moorland,<br> + far from that adventurer and all his works, that adventurer who +was<br> + at that moment, in all probability, laughing at us in some +dirty<br> + Soho restaurant. He had plenty to laugh at us about, and no +doubt<br> + he was laughing his loudest; but when I thought what his +laughter<br> + would be if he knew where we were at that moment, I nearly let +go<br> + of the tree and fell.</p> + +<p>"Swinburne," said Rupert suddenly, from above, "what are we +doing?<br> + Let's get down again," and by the mere sound of his voice I +knew<br> + 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<br> + hold of him by the leg?"</p> + +<p>"He's too far ahead," answered Rupert; "he's nearly at the +top<br> + of the beastly thing. Looking for Lieutenant Keith in the +rooks'<br> + nests, I suppose."</p> + +<p>We were ourselves by this time far on our frantic vertical<br> + journey. The mighty trunks were beginning to sway and shake<br> + slightly in the wind. Then I looked down and saw something +which<br> + made me feel that we were far from the world in a sense and to +a<br> + degree that I cannot easily describe. I saw that the almost<br> + straight lines of the tall elm trees diminished a little in<br> + perspective as they fell. I was used to seeing parallel +lines<br> + taper towards the sky. But to see them taper towards the +earth<br> + 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<br> + to the top, and when he finds nothing but wind and leaves he +may<br> + go sane again. Hark at him above there; you can just hear +him<br> + 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<br> + talk to himself before; I'm afraid he really is bad tonight; +it's<br> + a known sign of the brain going."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said sadly, and listened. Basil's voice certainly +was<br> + sounding above us, and not by any means in the rich and +riotous<br> + tones in which he had hailed us before. He was speaking +quietly,<br> + and laughing every now and then, up there among the leaves +and<br> + stars.</p> + +<p>After a silence mingled with this murmur, Rupert Grant +suddenly<br> + 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.<br> + "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<br> + sudden burst of wind, but when it died down I could still +hear<br> + the conversational voice above. I could hear two voices.</p> + +<p>Suddenly from aloft came Basil's boisterous hailing voice +as<br> + before: "Come up, you fellows. Here's Lieutenant Keith."</p> + +<p>And a second afterwards came the half-American voice we had +heard<br> + 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<br> + the branches like a wasps' nest, was protruding the pale face +and<br> + fierce moustache of the lieutenant, his teeth shining with +that<br> + slightly Southern air that belonged to him.</p> + +<p>Somehow or other, stunned and speechless, we lifted +ourselves<br> + heavily into the opening. We fell into the full glow of a +lamp-lit,<br> + cushioned, tiny room, with a circular wall lined with books, +a<br> + circular table, and a circular seat around it. At this table +sat<br> + three people. One was Basil, who, in the instant after +alighting<br> + there, had fallen into an attitude of marmoreal ease as if he +had<br> + been there from boyhood; he was smoking a cigar with a slow<br> + pleasure. The second was Lieutenant Drummond Keith, who +looked<br> + happy also, but feverish and doubtful compared with his +granite<br> + guest. The third was the little bald-headed house-agent with +the<br> + wild whiskers, who called himself Montmorency. The spears, +the<br> + green umbrella, and the cavalry sword hung in parallels on +the<br> + wall. The sealed jar of strange wine was on the mantelpiece, +the<br> + enormous rifle in the corner. In the middle of the table was +a<br> + 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<br> + foot of a light-house. The room stirred slightly, as a cabin +might<br> + in a mild sea.</p> + +<p>Our glasses were filled, and we still sat there dazed and +dumb.<br> + Then Basil spoke.</p> + +<p>"You seem still a little doubtful, Rupert. Surely there is +no<br> + 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<br> + sudden glare. "Lieutenant Keith said his address was--"</p> + +<p>"It's really quite right, sir," said Keith, with an open +smile.<br> + "The bobby asked me where I lived. And I said, quite +truthfully,<br> + that I lived in the elms on Buxton Common, near Purley. So I +do.<br> + This gentleman, Mr Montmorency, whom I think you have met +before,<br> + is an agent for houses of this kind. He has a special line +in<br> + arboreal villas. It's being kept rather quiet at present, +because<br> + the people who want these houses don't want them to get too +common.<br> + But it's just the sort of thing a fellow like myself, +racketing<br> + about in all sorts of queer corners of London, naturally knocks +up<br> + against."</p> + +<p>"Are you really an agent for arboreal villas?" asked +Rupert<br> + eagerly, recovering his ease with the romance of reality.</p> + +<p>Mr Montmorency, in his embarrassment, fingered one of his +pockets<br> + 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<br> + very much to go into the house-agency business. But I never +cared<br> + myself for anything but natural history and botany and things +like<br> + that. My poor parents have been dead some years now, +but--naturally<br> + I like to respect their wishes. And I thought somehow that +an<br> + arboreal villa agency was a sort of--of compromise between being +a<br> + 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<br> + Keith, who was (I am convinced) his only client. "But what +there<br> + is--very select."</p> + +<p>"My dear friends," said Basil, puffing his cigar, "always +remember<br> + two facts. The first is that though when you are guessing +about<br> + any one who is sane, the sanest thing is the most likely; when +you<br> + are guessing about any one who is, like our host, insane, +the<br> + maddest thing is the most likely. The second is to remember +that<br> + very plain literal fact always seems fantastic. If Keith had +taken<br> + a little brick box of a house in Clapham with nothing but +railings<br> + in front of it and had written `The Elms' over it, you +wouldn't<br> + have thought there was anything fantastic about that. Simply<br> + because it was a great blaring, swaggering lie you would +have<br> + believed it."</p> + +<p>"Drink your wine, gentlemen," said Keith, laughing, "for +this<br> + confounded wind will upset it."</p> + +<p>We drank, and as we did so, although the hanging house, by +a<br> + cunning mechanism, swung only slightly, we knew that the +great<br> + head of the elm tree swayed in the sky like a stricken +thistle.</p> + +<h2>Chapter 5</h2> + +<h3>The Noticeable Conduct of Professor Chadd</h3> + +<p>Basil Grant had comparatively few friends besides myself; yet +he<br> + was the reverse of an unsociable man. He would talk to any +one<br> + anywhere, and talk not only well but with perfectly genuine +concern<br> + and enthusiasm for that person's affairs. He went through +the<br> + world, as it were, as if he were always on the top of an omnibus +or<br> + waiting for a train. Most of these chance acquaintances, of +course,<br> + vanished into darkness out of his life. A few here and there +got<br> + hooked on to him, so to speak, and became his lifelong +intimates,<br> + but there was an accidental look about all of them as if they +were<br> + windfalls, samples taken at random, goods fallen from a goods +train<br> + or presents fished out of a bran-pie. One would be, let us say, +a<br> + veterinary surgeon with the appearance of a jockey; another, a +mild<br> + prebendary with a white beard and vague views; another, a +young<br> + captain in the Lancers, seemingly exactly like other captains +in<br> + the Lancers; another, a small dentist from Fulham, in all<br> + reasonable certainty precisely like every other dentist from<br> + Fulham. Major Brown, small, dry, and dapper, was one of +these;<br> + Basil had made his acquaintance over a discussion in a hotel<br> + cloak-room about the right hat, a discussion which reduced +the<br> + little major almost to a kind of masculine hysterics, the +compound<br> + of the selfishness of an old bachelor and the scrupulosity of +an<br> + old maid. They had gone home in a cab together and then dined +with<br> + each other twice a week until they died. I myself was another. +I<br> + had met Grant while he was still a judge, on the balcony of +the<br> + National Liberal Club, and exchanged a few words about the +weather.<br> + Then we had talked for about an hour about politics and God; +for<br> + men always talk about the most important things to total +strangers.<br> + It is because in the total stranger we perceive man himself; +the<br> + image of God is not disguised by resemblances to an uncle or +doubts<br> + of the wisdom of a moustache.</p> + +<p><br> + One of the most interesting of Basil's motley group of<br> + acquaintances was Professor Chadd. He was known to the +ethnological<br> + world (which is a very interesting world, but a long way off +this<br> + one) as the second greatest, if not the greatest, authority on +the<br> + relations of savages to language. He was known to the +neighbourhood<br> + of Hart Street, Bloomsbury, as a bearded man with a bald +head,<br> + spectacles, and a patient face, the face of an unaccountable<br> + Nonconformist who had forgotten how to be angry. He went to and +fro<br> + between the British Museum and a selection of blameless +tea-shops,<br> + with an armful of books and a poor but honest umbrella. He +was<br> + never seen without the books and the umbrella, and was supposed +(by<br> + the lighter wits of the Persian MS. room) to go to bed with them +in<br> + his little brick villa in the neighbourhood of Shepherd's +Bush.<br> + There he lived with three sisters, ladies of solid goodness, +but<br> + sinister demeanour. His life was happy, as are almost all the +lives<br> + of methodical students, but one would not have called it<br> + exhilarating. His only hours of exhilaration occurred when +his<br> + friend, Basil Grant, came into the house, late at night, a +tornado<br> + of conversation.</p> + +<p>Basil, though close on sixty, had moods of boisterous +babyishness,<br> + and these seemed for some reason or other to descend upon +him<br> + particularly in the house of his studious and almost dingy +friend.<br> + I can remember vividly (for I was acquainted with both parties +and<br> + often dined with them) the gaiety of Grant on that +particular<br> + evening when the strange calamity fell upon the professor.<br> + Professor Chadd was, like most of his particular class and +type<br> + (the class that is at once academic and middle-class), a +Radical<br> + of a solemn and old-fashioned type. Grant was a Radical +himself,<br> + but he was that more discriminating and not uncommon type of<br> + Radical who passes most of his time in abusing the Radical +party.<br> + Chadd had just contributed to a magazine an article called +"Zulu<br> + Interests and the New Makango Frontier', in which a precise<br> + scientific report of his study of the customs of the people +of<br> + T'Chaka was reinforced by a severe protest against certain<br> + interferences with these customs both by the British and the<br> + Germans. He-was sitting with the magazine in front of him, +the<br> + lamplight shining on his spectacles, a wrinkle in his +forehead,<br> + not of anger, but of perplexity, as Basil Grant strode up and +down<br> + the room, shaking it with his voice, with his high spirits and +his<br> + heavy tread.</p> + +<p>"It's not your opinions that I object to, my esteemed Chadd," +he<br> + was saying, "it's you. You are quite right to champion the +Zulus,<br> + but for all that you do not sympathize with them. No doubt +you<br> + know the Zulu way of cooking tomatoes and the Zulu prayer +before<br> + blowing one's nose; but for all that you don't understand them +as<br> + well as I do, who don't know an assegai from an alligator. You +are<br> + more learned, Chadd, but I am more Zulu. Why is it that the +jolly<br> + old barbarians of this earth are always championed by people +who<br> + are their antithesis? Why is it? You are sagacious, you are<br> + benevolent, you are well informed, but, Chadd, you are not +savage.<br> + Live no longer under that rosy illusion. Look in the glass. +Ask<br> + your sisters. Consult the librarian of the British Museum. Look +at<br> + this umbrella." And he held up that sad but still +respectable<br> + article. "Look at it. For ten mortal years to my certain +knowledge<br> + you have carried that object under your arm, and I have no sort +of<br> + doubt that you carried it at the age of eight months, and it +never<br> + occurred to you to give one wild yell and hurl it like a +javelin--<br> + thus--"</p> + +<p>And he sent the umbrella whizzing past the professor's bald +head,<br> + so that it knocked over a pile of books with a crash and left +a<br> + vase rocking.</p> + +<p>Professor Chadd appeared totally unmoved, with his face +still<br> + lifted to the lamp and the wrinkle cut in his forehead.</p> + +<p>"Your mental processes," he said, "always go a little too +fast.<br> + And they are stated without method. There is no kind of<br> + inconsistency"--and no words can convey the time he took to get +to<br> + the end of the word--"between valuing the right of the +aborigines<br> + to adhere to their stage in the evolutionary process, so long +as<br> + they find it congenial and requisite to do so. There is, I say, +no<br> + inconsistency between this concession which I have just +described<br> + to you and the view that the evolutionary stage in question +is,<br> + nevertheless, so far as we can form any estimate of values in +the<br> + variety of cosmic processes, definable in some degree as an<br> + inferior evolutionary stage."</p> + +<p>Nothing but his lips had moved as he spoke, and his glasses +still<br> + 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<br> + spear. But there is a great deal of incompatibility of temper. +I<br> + am very far from being certain that the Zulu is on an +inferior<br> + evolutionary stage, whatever the blazes that may mean. I do +not<br> + think there is anything stupid or ignorant about howling at +the<br> + moon or being afraid of devils in the dark. It seems to me<br> + perfectly philosophical. Why should a man be thought a sort +of<br> + idiot because he feels the mystery and peril of existence +itself?<br> + Suppose, my dear Chadd, suppose it is we who are the idiots<br> + because we are not afraid of devils in the dark?"</p> + +<p>Professor Chadd slit open a page of the magazine with a +bone<br> + paper-knife and the intent reverence of the bibliophile.</p> + +<p>"Beyond all question," he said, "it is a tenable hypothesis. +I<br> + allude to the hypothesis which I understand you to entertain, +that<br> + our civilization is not or may not be an advance upon, and +indeed<br> + (if I apprehend you), is or may be a retrogression from +states<br> + identical with or analogous to the state of the Zulus. Moreover, +I<br> + shall be inclined to concede that such a proposition is of +the<br> + nature, in some degree at least, of a primary proposition, +and<br> + cannot adequately be argued, in the same sense, I mean, that +the<br> + primary proposition of pessimism, or the primary proposition of +the<br> + non-existence of matter, cannot adequately be argued. But I do +not<br> + conceive you to be under the impression that you have +demonstrated<br> + anything more concerning this proposition than that it is +tenable,<br> + which, after all, amounts to little more than the statement that +it<br> + 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<br> + compensation, you don't mind smoking. Why you don't object to +that<br> + disgustingly barbaric rite I can't think. I can only say that +I<br> + began it when I began to be a Zulu, about the age of ten. What +I<br> + maintained was that although you knew more about Zulus in the +sense<br> + that you are a scientist, I know more about them in the sense +that<br> + I am a savage. For instance, your theory of the origin of +language,<br> + something about its having come from the formulated secret +language<br> + of some individual creature, though you knocked me silly with +facts<br> + and scholarship in its favour, still does not convince me, +because<br> + I have a feeling that that is not the way that things happen. +If<br> + you ask me why I think so I can only answer that I am a Zulu; +and<br> + if you ask me (as you most certainly will) what is my definition +of<br> + a Zulu, I can answer that also. He is one who has climbed a +Sussex<br> + 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<br> + speech was interrupted. His sister, with that masculinity +which<br> + always in such families concentrates in sisters, flung open +the<br> + 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<br> + such men the fact that they regard philosophy as a familiar +thing,<br> + but practical life as a weird and unnerving vision, and +walked<br> + dubiously out of the room.</p> + +<p>"I hope you do not mind my being aware of it, Miss Chadd," +said<br> + Basil Grant, "but I hear that the British Museum has +recognized<br> + one of the men who have deserved well of their commonwealth. It +is<br> + true, is it not, that Professor Chadd is likely to be made +keeper<br> + of Asiatic manuscripts?"</p> + +<p>The grim face of the spinster betrayed a great deal of +pleasure and<br> + a great deal of pathos also. "I believe it's true," she said. +"If<br> + it is, it will not only be great glory which women, I assure +you,<br> + feel a great deal, but great relief, which they feel more; +relief<br> + from worry from a lot of things. James' health has never been +good,<br> + and while we are as poor as we are he had to do journalism +and<br> + coaching, in addition to his own dreadful grinding notions +and<br> + discoveries, which he loves more than man, woman, or child. I +have<br> + often been afraid that unless something of this kind occurred +we<br> + should really have to be careful of his brain. But I believe it +is<br> + practically settled."</p> + +<p>"I am delighted," began Basil, but with a worried face, "but +these<br> + red-tape negotiations are so terribly chancy that I really +can't<br> + advise you to build on hope, only to be hurled down into<br> + bitterness. I've known men, and good men like your brother, +come<br> + 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<br> + have never lived may make an attempt at living."</p> + +<p>Even as she spoke the professor came into the room still with +the<br> + 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.<br> + "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<br> + 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<br> + mean, have you got the post?"</p> + +<p>"You mean the post of keeper of the Asiatic manuscripts," he +said,<br> + opening his eye with childlike wonder. "Oh, yes, I got that. +But<br> + the real objection to your argument, which has only, I +admit,<br> + occurred to me since I have been out of the room, is that it +does<br> + not merely presuppose a Zulu truth apart from the facts, but<br> + infers that the discovery of it is absolutely impeded by the<br> + facts."</p> + +<p>"I am crushed," said Basil, and sat down to laugh, while +the<br> + professor's sister retired to her room, possibly, possibly +not.</p> + +<p>It was extremely late when we left the Chadds, and it is +an<br> + extremely long and tiresome journey from Shepherd's Bush to<br> + Lambeth. This may be our excuse for the fact that we (for I +was<br> + stopping the night with Grant) got down to breakfast next day at +a<br> + time inexpressibly criminal, a time, in point of fact, close +upon<br> + noon. Even to that belated meal we came in a very lounging +and<br> + leisurely fashion. Grant, in particular, seemed so dreamy at +table<br> + that he scarcely saw the pile of letters by his plate, and I +doubt<br> + if he would have opened any of them if there had not lain on +the<br> + top that one thing which has succeeded amid modern carelessness +in<br> + being really urgent and coercive--a telegram. This he opened +with<br> + the same heavy distraction with which he broke his egg and +drank<br> + his tea. When he read it he did not stir a hair or say a word, +but<br> + something, I know not what, made me feel that the motionless +figure<br> + had been pulled together suddenly as strings are tightened on +a<br> + slack guitar. Though he said nothing and did not move, I knew +that<br> + he had been for an instant cleared and sharpened with a shock +of<br> + cold water. It was scarcely any surprise to me when a man who +had<br> + drifted sullenly to his seat and fallen into it, kicked it +away<br> + 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<br> + in front of me.</p> + +<p>It ran: "Please come at once. James' mental state +dangerous.<br> + Chadd."</p> + +<p>"What does the woman mean?" I said after a pause, +irritably.<br> + "Those women have been saying that the poor old professor was +mad<br> + ever since he was born."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken," said Grant composedly. "It is true that +all<br> + sensible women think all studious men mad. It is true, for +the<br> + matter of that, all women of any kind think all men of any +kind<br> + mad. But they don't put it in telegrams, any more than they +wire<br> + to you that grass is green or God all-merciful. These things +are<br> + truisms, and often private ones at that. If Miss Chadd has +written<br> + down under the eye of a strange woman in a post-office that +her<br> + brother is off his head you may be perfectly certain that she +did<br> + it because it was a matter of life and death, and she can think +of<br> + 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,<br> + through Trafalgar Square, along Piccadilly, and up the +Uxbridge<br> + 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<br> + is one of the most queer and complicated and astounding +incidents<br> + that ever happened in London or, for that matter, in any +high<br> + civilization."</p> + +<p>"I confess with the greatest sympathy and reverence that I +don't<br> + quite see it," I said. "Is it so very extraordinary or +complicated<br> + that a dreamy somnambulant old invalid who has always walked +on<br> + the borders of the inconceivable should go mad under the shock +of<br> + great joy? Is it so very extraordinary that a man with a head +like<br> + a turnip and a soul like a spider's web should not find his<br> + strength equal to a confounding change of fortunes? Is it, +in<br> + short, so very extraordinary that James Chadd should lose his +wits<br> + from excitement?"</p> + +<p><br> + "It would not be extraordinary in the least," answered +Basil,<br> + with placidity. "It would not be extraordinary in the least," +he<br> + repeated, "if the professor had gone mad. That was not the<br> + 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<br> + he has not gone mad from excitement."</p> + +<p>The tall and angular figure of the eldest Miss Chadd blocked +the<br> + doorway as the door opened. Two other Miss Chadds seemed in +the<br> + same way to be blocking the narrow passage and the little +parlour.<br> + There was a general sense of their keeping something from +view.<br> + They seemed like three black-clad ladies in some strange play +of<br> + Maeterlinck, veiling the catastrophe from the audience in +the<br> + manner of the Greek chorus.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, won't you?" said one of them, in a voice that +was<br> + somewhat rigid with pain. "I think you had better be told +first<br> + what has happened."</p> + +<p>Then, with her bleak face looking unmeaningly out of the +window,<br> + she continued, in an even and mechanical voice:</p> + +<p>"I had better state everything that occurred just as it +occurred.<br> + This morning I was clearing away the breakfast things, my +sisters<br> + were both somewhat unwell, and had not come down. My brother +had<br> + just gone out of the room, I believe, to fetch a book. He came +back<br> + again, however, without it, and stood for some time staring at +the<br> + empty grate. I said, `Were you looking for anything I could +get?'<br> + He did not answer, but this constantly happens, as he is often +very<br> + abstracted. I repeated my question, and still he did not +answer.<br> + Sometimes he is so wrapped up in his studies that nothing but +a<br> + touch on the shoulder would make him aware of one's presence, so +I<br> + came round the table towards him. I really do not know how +to<br> + describe the sensation which I then had. It seems simply silly, +but<br> + at the moment it seemed something enormous, upsetting one's +brain.<br> + 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<br> + suggest that she felt the fantasticality of her statement. "He +was<br> + standing on the left leg and the right drawn up at a sharp +angle,<br> + the toe pointing downwards. I asked him if his leg hurt him. +His<br> + only answer was to shoot the leg straight at right angles to +the<br> + other, as if pointing to the other with his toe to the wall. He +was<br> + still looking quite gravely at the fireplace.</p> + +<p>"`James, what is the matter?' I cried, for I was +thoroughly<br> + frightened. James gave three kicks in the air with the right +leg,<br> + flung up the other, gave three kicks in the air with it also +and<br> + spun round like a teetotum the other way. `Are you mad?' I +cried.<br> + `Why don't you answer me?' He had come to a standstill facing +me,<br> + and was looking at me as he always does, with his lifted +eyebrows<br> + and great spectacled eyes. When I had spoken he remained a +second<br> + or two motionless, and then his only reply was to lift his +left<br> + foot slowly from the floor and describe circles with it in the +air.<br> + I rushed to the door and shouted for Christina. I will not dwell +on<br> + the dreadful hours that followed. All three of us talked to +him,<br> + implored him to speak to us with appeals that might have +brought<br> + back the dead, but he has done nothing but hop and dance and +kick<br> + with a solemn silent face. It looks as if his legs belonged to +some<br> + one else or were possessed by devils. He has never spoken to +us<br> + from that time to this."</p> + +<p>"Where is he now?" I said, getting up in some agitation. "We +ought<br> + not to leave him alone."</p> + +<p>"Doctor Colman is with him," said Miss Chadd calmly. "They are +in<br> + the garden. Doctor Colman thought the air would do him good. And +he<br> + can scarcely go into the street."</p> + +<p>Basil and I walked rapidly to the window which looked out on +the<br> + garden. It was a small and somewhat smug suburban garden; +the<br> + flower beds a little too neat and like the pattern of a +coloured<br> + carpet; but on this shining and opulent summer day even they +had<br> + the exuberance of something natural, I had almost said +tropical.<br> + In the middle of a bright and verdant but painfully circular +lawn<br> + stood two figures. One of them was a small, sharp-looking man +with<br> + black whiskers and a very polished hat (I presume Dr Colman), +who<br> + was talking very quietly and clearly, yet with a nervous twitch, +as<br> + it were, in his face. The other was our old friend, listening +with<br> + his old forbearing expression and owlish eyes, the strong +sunlight<br> + gleaming on his glasses as the lamplight had gleamed the +night<br> + before, when the boisterous Basil had rallied him on his +studious<br> + decorum. But for one thing the figure of this morning might +have<br> + been the identical figure of last night. That one thing was +that<br> + while the face listened reposefully the legs were +industriously<br> + dancing like the legs of a marionette. The neat flowers and +the<br> + sunny glitter of the garden lent an indescribable sharpness +and<br> + incredibility to the prodigy--the prodigy of the head of a +hermit<br> + and the legs of a harlequin. For miracles should always happen +in<br> + broad daylight. The night makes them credible and therefore<br> + commonplace.</p> + +<p>The second sister had by this time entered the room and +came<br> + somewhat drearily to the window.</p> + +<p>"You know, Adelaide," she said, "that Mr Bingham from the +Museum is<br> + coming again at three."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Adelaide Chadd bitterly. "I suppose we shall +have to<br> + tell him about this. I thought that no good fortune would ever +come<br> + easily to us."</p> + +<p>Grant suddenly turned round. "What do you mean?" he said. +"What<br> + will you have to tell Mr Bingham?"</p> + +<p>"You know what I shall have to tell him," said the +professor's<br> + sister, almost fiercely. "I don't know that we need give it +its<br> + wretched name. Do you think that the keeper of Asiatic +manuscripts<br> + will be allowed to go on like that?" And she pointed for an<br> + instant at the figure in the garden, the shining, listening +face<br> + and the unresting feet.</p> + +<p>Basil Grant took out his watch with an abrupt movement. "When +did<br> + 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<br> + word threw up the window and jumped out into the garden. He +did<br> + not walk straight up to the doctor and lunatic, but +strolling<br> + round the garden path drew near them cautiously and yet +apparently<br> + carelessly. He stood a couple of feet off them, seemingly +counting<br> + halfpence out of his trousers pocket, but, as I could see, +looking<br> + up steadily under the broad brim of his hat.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he stepped up to Professor Chadd's elbow, and said, +in a<br> + loud familiar voice, "Well, my boy, do you still think the +Zulus<br> + our inferiors?"</p> + +<p>The doctor knitted his brows and looked anxious, seeming to +be<br> + about to speak. The professor turned his bald and placid +head<br> + towards Grant in a friendly manner, but made no answer, idly<br> + flinging his left leg about.</p> + +<p>"Have you converted Dr Colman to your views?" Basil +continued,<br> + still in the same loud and lucid tone.</p> + +<p>Chadd only shuffled his feet and kicked a little with the +other<br> + leg, his expression still benevolent and inquiring. The doctor +cut<br> + in rather sharply. "Shall we go inside, professor?" he said. +"Now<br> + you have shown me the garden. A beautiful garden. A most +beautiful<br> + garden. Let us go in," and he tried to draw the kicking<br> + ethnologist by the elbow, at the same time whispering to Grant: +"I<br> + must ask you not to trouble him with questions. Most risky. +He<br> + 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<br> + endeavour to do so, but I hope it will not be inconsistent +with<br> + them if you will leave me alone with my poor friend in this +garden<br> + for an hour. I want to watch him. I assure you, Dr Colman, that +I<br> + shall say very little to him, and that little shall be as +soothing<br> + 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<br> + strong sun without his hat. With his bald head, too."</p> + +<p>"That is soon settled," said Basil composedly, and took off +his<br> + own big hat and clapped it on the egglike skull of the +professor.<br> + The latter did not turn round but danced away with his eyes on +the<br> + horizon.</p> + +<p>The doctor put on his glasses again, looked severely at the +two<br> + for some seconds, with his head on one side like a bird's, +and<br> + then saying, shortly, "All right," strutted away into the +house,<br> + where the three Misses Chadd were all looking out from the +parlour<br> + window on to the garden. They looked out on it with hungry +eyes<br> + for a full hour without moving, and they saw a sight which +was<br> + more extraordinary than madness itself.</p> + +<p>Basil Grant addressed a few questions to the madman, +without<br> + succeeding in making him do anything but continue to caper, +and<br> + when he had done this slowly took a red note-book out of one<br> + pocket and a large pencil out of another.</p> + +<p>He began hurriedly to scribble notes. When the lunatic +skipped<br> + away from him he would walk a few yards in pursuit, stop, +and<br> + make notes again. Thus they followed each other round and +round<br> + the foolish circle of turf, the one writing in pencil with +the<br> + face of a man working out a problem, the other leaping and<br> + playing like a child.</p> + +<p>After about three-quarters of an hour of this imbecile +scene,<br> + Grant put the pencil in his pocket, but kept the note-book +open<br> + in his hand, and walking round the mad professor, planted +himself<br> + directly in front of him.</p> + +<p>Then occurred something that even those already used to that +wild<br> + morning had not anticipated or dreamed. The professor, on +finding<br> + Basil in front of him, stared with a blank benignity for a +few<br> + seconds, and then drew up his left leg and hung it bent in +the<br> + attitude that his sister had described as being the first of +all<br> + his antics. And the moment he had done it Basil Grant lifted +his<br> + own leg and held it out rigid before him, confronting Chadd +with<br> + the flat sole of his boot. The professor dropped his bent +leg,<br> + and swinging his weight on to it kicked out the other +behind,<br> + like a man swimming. Basil crossed his feet like a saltire +cross,<br> + and then flung them apart again, giving a leap into the air. +Then<br> + before any of the spectators could say a word or even entertain +a<br> + thought about the matter, both of them were dancing a sort of +jig<br> + or hornpipe opposite each other; and the sun shone down on +two<br> + madmen instead of one.</p> + +<p>They were so stricken with the deafness and blindness of<br> + monomania that they did not see the eldest Miss Chadd come +out<br> + feverishly into the garden with gestures of entreaty, a +gentleman<br> + following her. Professor Chadd was in the wildest posture of +a<br> + pas-de-quatre, Basil Grant seemed about to turn a +cart-wheel,<br> + when they were frozen in their follies by the steely voice +of<br> + Adelaide Chadd saying, "Mr Bingham of the British Museum."</p> + +<p>Mr Bingham was a slim, well-clad gentleman with a pointed +and<br> + slightly effeminate grey beard, unimpeachable gloves, and +formal<br> + but agreeable manners. He was the type of the over-civilized, +as<br> + Professor Chadd was of the uncivilized pedant. His formality +and<br> + agreeableness did him some credit under the circumstances. He +had<br> + a vast experience of books and a considerable experience of +the<br> + more dilettante fashionable salons. But neither branch of<br> + knowledge had accustomed him to the spectacle of two +grey-haired<br> + middle-class gentlemen in modern costume throwing themselves<br> + about like acrobats as a substitute for an after-dinner nap.</p> + +<p>The professor continued his antics with perfect placidity, +but<br> + Grant stopped abruptly. The doctor had reappeared on the +scene,<br> + and his shiny black eyes, under his shiny black hat, moved<br> + restlessly from one of them to the other.</p> + +<p>"Dr Colman," said Basil, turning to him, "will you +entertain<br> + Professor Chadd again for a little while? I am sure that he +needs<br> + you. Mr Bingham, might I have the pleasure of a few moments'<br> + private conversation? My name is Grant."</p> + +<p>Mr Bingham, of the British Museum, bowed in a manner that +was<br> + respectful but a trifle bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Miss Chadd will excuse me," continued Basil easily, "if I +know<br> + my way about the house." And he led the dazed librarian +rapidly<br> + through the back door into the parlour.</p> + +<p>"Mr Bingham," said Basil, setting a chair for him, "I imagine +that<br> + Miss Chadd has told you of this distressing occurrence."</p> + +<p>"She has, Mr Grant," said Bingham, looking at the table with a +sort<br> + of compassionate nervousness. "I am more pained than I can say +by<br> + this dreadful calamity. It seems quite heart-rending that the +thing<br> + should have happened just as we have decided to give your +eminent<br> + friend a position which falls far short of his merits. As it is, +of<br> + course--really, I don't know what to say. Professor Chadd may, +of<br> + course, retain--I sincerely trust he will--his +extraordinarily<br> + valuable intellect. But I am afraid--I am really afraid--that +it<br> + would not do to have the curator of the Asiatic<br> + manuscripts--er--dancing about."</p> + +<p>"I have a suggestion to make," said Basil, and sat down +abruptly in<br> + his chair, drawing it up to the table.</p> + +<p>"I am delighted, of course," said the gentleman from the +British<br> + Museum, coughing and drawing up his chair also.</p> + +<p>The clock on the mantelpiece ticked for just the moments +required<br> + for Basil to clear his throat and collect his words, and then +he<br> + said:</p> + +<p>"My proposal is this. I do not know that in the strict use of +words<br> + you could altogether call it a compromise, still it has +something<br> + of that character. My proposal is that the Government (acting, +as I<br> + presume, through your Museum) should pay Professor Chadd L800 +a<br> + year until he stops dancing."</p> + +<p>"Eight hundred a year!" said Mr Bingham, and for the first +time<br> + lifted his mild blue eyes to those of his interlocutor--and +he<br> + raised them with a mild blue stare. "I think I have not +quite<br> + understood you. Did I understand you to say that Professor +Chadd<br> + ought to be employed, in his present state, in the Asiatic<br> + 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<br> + say anything for him I could. But I do not say, I cannot say, +that<br> + he ought to take on the Asiatic manuscripts. I do not go so far +as<br> + that. I merely say that until he stops dancing you ought to +pay<br> + him L800 Surely you have some general fund for the endowment +of<br> + research."</p> + +<p>Mr Bingham looked bewildered.</p> + +<p>"I really don't know," he said, blinking his eyes, "what you +are<br> + talking about. Do you ask us to give this obvious lunatic nearly +a<br> + thousand a year for life?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," cried Basil, keenly and triumphantly. "I never +said<br> + for life. Not at all."</p> + +<p>"What for, then?" asked the meek Bingham, suppressing an +instinct<br> + meekly to tear his hair. "How long is this endowment to run? +Not<br> + till his death? Till the Judgement day?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Basil, beaming, "but just what I said. Till he +has<br> + stopped dancing." And he lay back with satisfaction and his +hands<br> + in his pockets.</p> + +<p>Bingham had by this time fastened his eyes keenly on Basil +Grant<br> + and kept them there.</p> + +<p>"Come, Mr Grant," he said. "Do I seriously understand you +to<br> + suggest that the Government pay Professor Chadd an +extraordinarily<br> + high salary simply on the ground that he has (pardon the +phrase)<br> + gone mad? That he should be paid more than four good clerks +solely<br> + on the ground that he is flinging his boots about in the +back<br> + yard?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely," said Grant composedly.</p> + +<p>"That this absurd payment is not only to run on with the +absurd<br> + 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<br> + coldly. "What you are trying to explain to me may be a +joke--a<br> + slightly unfeeling joke. It may be your sincere view, in which +case<br> + I ask your pardon for the former suggestion. But, in any case, +it<br> + appears quite irrelevant to my duties. The mental morbidity, +the<br> + mental downfall, of Professor Chadd, is a thing so painful to +me<br> + that I cannot easily endure to speak of it. But it is clear +there<br> + is a limit to everything. And if the Archangel Gabriel went mad +it<br> + would sever his connection, I am sorry to say, with the +British<br> + Museum Library."</p> + +<p>He was stepping towards the door, but Grant's hand, flung out +in<br> + dramatic warning, arrested him.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" said Basil sternly. "Stop while there is yet time. Do +you<br> + want to take part in a great work, Mr Bingham? Do you want to +help<br> + in the glory of Europe--in the glory of science? Do you want +to<br> + carry your head in the air when it is bald or white because of +the<br> + 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 L800 +a<br> + year till he stops dancing."</p> + +<p>With a fierce flap of his swinging gloves Bingham turned<br> + impatiently to the door, but in passing out of it found it<br> + blocked. Dr Colman was coming in.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, gentlemen," he said, in a nervous, confidential +voice,<br> + "the fact is, Mr Grant, I--er--have made a most disturbing<br> + 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,<br> + no, it's not drink."</p> + +<p>Mr Bingham became somewhat agitated, and his voice grew +hurried and<br> + 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<br> + God--or--"</p> + +<p>"No," said Dr Colman sharply; "the fact is, Mr Grant, my +discovery<br> + 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,<br> + "that he isn't mad."</p> + +<p>"Not mad!"</p> + +<p>"There are quite well-known physical tests of lunacy," said +the<br> + doctor shortly; "he hasn't got any of them."</p> + +<p>"But why does he dance?" cried the despairing Bingham. "Why +doesn't<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + to send."</p> + +<p>Both men stared at him.</p> + +<p>"Give him a message?" they cried simultaneously. "How will you +give<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + into the air, coming down with crashing boots, and then stood +on<br> + one leg.</p> + +<p>His face was stern, though this effect was slightly spoiled by +the<br> + 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.<br> + And I will, for his own sake, betray him."</p> + +<p>The sensitive face of Bingham took on an extra expression +of<br> + distress as of one anticipating some disgraceful disclosure.<br> + "Anything painful, of course--" he began.</p> + +<p>Basil let his loose foot fall on the carpet with a crash +that<br> + struck them all rigid in their feeble attitudes.</p> + +<p>"Idiots!" he cried. "Have you seen the man? Have you looked +at<br> + James Chadd going dismally to and fro from his dingy house +to<br> + your miserable library, with his futile books and his +confounded<br> + umbrella, and never seen that he has the eyes of a fanatic? +Have<br> + you never noticed, stuck casually behind his spectacles and +above<br> + his seedy old collar, the face of a man who might have +burned<br> + heretics, or died for the philosopher's stone? It is all my<br> + fault, in a way: I lit the dynamite of his deadly faith. I +argued<br> + against him on the score of his famous theory about +language--the<br> + theory that language was complete in certain individuals and +was<br> + picked up by others simply by watching them. I also chaffed +him<br> + about not understanding things in rough and ready practice. +What<br> + has this glorious bigot done? He has answered me. He has +worked<br> + out a system of language of his own (it would take too long +to<br> + explain); he has made up, I say, a language of his own. And +he<br> + has sworn that till people understand it, till he can speak to +us<br> + in this language, he will not speak in any other. And he +shall<br> + not. I have understood, by taking careful notice; and, by +heaven,<br> + so shall the others. This shall not be blown upon. He shall<br> + finish his experiment. He shall have L800 a year from +somewhere<br> + till he has stopped dancing. To stop him now is an infamous +war<br> + on a great idea. It is religious persecution."</p> + +<p><br> + Mr Bingham held out his hand cordially.</p> + +<p>"I thank you, Mr Grant," he said. "I hope I shall be able to +answer<br> + for the source of the L800 and I fancy that I shall. Will you +come<br> + in my cab?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you very much, Mr Bingham," said Grant heartily. +"I<br> + 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<br> + and friendly. They were still dancing when I left.</p> + +<h2>Chapter 6</h2> + +<h3>The Eccentric Seclusion of the Old Lady</h3> + +<p>The conversation of Rupert Grant had two great elements of<br> + interest--first, the long fantasias of detective deduction +in<br> + which he was engaged, and, second, his genuine romantic +interest<br> + in the life of London. His brother Basil said of him: "His<br> + reasoning is particularly cold and clear, and invariably +leads<br> + him wrong. But his poetry comes in abruptly and leads him +right."<br> + Whether this was true of Rupert as a whole, or no, it was<br> + certainly curiously supported by one story about him which I<br> + think worth telling.</p> + +<p><br> + We were walking along a lonely terrace in Brompton together. +The<br> + street was full of that bright blue twilight which comes +about<br> + half past eight in summer, and which seems for the moment to +be<br> + not so much a coming of darkness as the turning on of a new +azure<br> + illuminator, as if the earth were lit suddenly by a sapphire +sun.<br> + In the cool blue the lemon tint of the lamps had already begun +to<br> + flame, and as Rupert and I passed them, Rupert talking +excitedly,<br> + one after another the pale sparks sprang out of the dusk. +Rupert<br> + was talking excitedly because he was trying to prove to me +the<br> + nine hundred and ninety-ninth of his amateur detective +theories.<br> + He would go about London, with this mad logic in his brain, +seeing<br> + a conspiracy in a cab accident, and a special providence in +a<br> + falling fusee. His suspicions at the moment were fixed upon +an<br> + unhappy milkman who walked in front of us. So arresting were +the<br> + incidents which afterwards overtook us that I am really +afraid<br> + that I have forgotten what were the main outlines of the +milkman's<br> + crime. I think it had something to do with the fact that he +had<br> + only one small can of milk to carry, and that of that he had +left<br> + the lid loose and walked so quickly that he spilled milk on +the<br> + pavement. This showed that he was not thinking of his small<br> + burden, and this again showed that he anticipated some other +than<br> + lacteal business at the end of his walk, and this (taken in<br> + conjunction with something about muddy boots) showed +something<br> + else that I have entirely forgotten. I am afraid that I +derided<br> + this detailed revelation unmercifully; and I am afraid that +Rupert<br> + Grant, who, though the best of fellows, had a good deal of +the<br> + sensitiveness of the artistic temperament, slightly resented +my<br> + derision. He endeavoured to take a whiff of his cigar, with +the<br> + placidity which he associated with his profession, but the +cigar,<br> + I think, was nearly bitten through.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," he said acidly, "I'll bet you half a crown +that<br> + wherever that milkman comes to a real stop I'll find out +something<br> + 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<br> + trail of the mysterious milkman. He walked quicker and +quicker,<br> + and we had some ado to keep up with him; and every now and then +he<br> + left a splash of milk, silver in the lamplight. Suddenly, +almost<br> + before we could note it, he disappeared down the area steps of +a<br> + house. I believe Rupert really believed that the milkman was +a<br> + fairy; for a second he seemed to accept him as having +vanished.<br> + Then calling something to me which somehow took no hold on +my<br> + mind, he darted after the mystic milkman, and disappeared +himself<br> + into the area.</p> + +<p>I waited for at least five minutes, leaning against a +lamp-post<br> + in the lonely street. Then the milkman came swinging up the +steps<br> + without his can and hurried off clattering down the road. Two +or<br> + three minutes more elapsed, and then Rupert came bounding up<br> + also, his face pale but yet laughing; a not uncommon<br> + contradiction in him, denoting excitement.</p> + +<p>"My friend," he said, rubbing his hands, "so much for all +your<br> + scepticism. So much for your philistine ignorance of the<br> + possibilities of a romantic city. Two and sixpence, my boy, +is<br> + the form in which your prosaic good nature will have to +express<br> + itself."</p> + +<p>"What?" I said incredulously, "do you mean to say that you +really<br> + 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<br> + misunderstood me. "No, I--I--didn't exactly bring anything home +to<br> + the milkman himself, I--"</p> + +<p>"What did the milkman say and do?" I said, with inexorable<br> + sternness.</p> + +<p>"Well, to tell the truth," said Rupert, shifting restlessly +from<br> + one foot to another, "the milkman himself, as far as merely<br> + physical appearances went, just said, `Milk, Miss,' and handed +in<br> + the can. That is not to say, of course, that he did not make +some<br> + secret sign or some--"</p> + +<p>I broke into a violent laugh. "You idiot," I said, "why don't +you<br> + own yourself wrong and have done with it? Why should he have +made<br> + a secret sign any more than any one else? You own he said +nothing<br> + 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<br> + that the milkman did not betray himself. It is even possible +that<br> + I was wrong about him."</p> + +<p>"Then come along with you," I said, with a certain amicable +anger,<br> + "and remember that you owe me half a crown."</p> + +<p>"As to that, I differ from you," said Rupert coolly. "The<br> + milkman's remarks may have been quite innocent. Even the +milkman<br> + may have been. But I do not owe you half a crown. For the terms +of<br> + the bet were, I think, as follows, as I propounded them, +that<br> + wherever that milkman came to a real stop I should find out<br> + something curious."</p> + +<p>"Well?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Well," he answered, "I jolly well have. You just come with +me,"<br> + and before I could speak he had turned tail once more and +whisked<br> + through the blue dark into the moat or basement of the house. +I<br> + followed almost before I made any decision.</p> + +<p>When we got down into the area I felt indescribably +foolish<br> + literally, as the saying is, in a hole. There was nothing but +a<br> + closed door, shuttered windows, the steps down which we had +come,<br> + the ridiculous well in which I found myself, and the +ridiculous<br> + man who had brought me there, and who stood there with +dancing<br> + eyes. I was just about to turn back when Rupert caught me by +the<br> + elbow.</p> + +<p>"Just listen to that," he said, and keeping my coat gripped in +his<br> + right hand, he rapped with the knuckles of his left on the +shutters<br> + of the basement window. His air was so definite that I paused +and<br> + even inclined my head for a moment towards it. From inside +was<br> + coming the murmur of an unmistakable human voice.</p> + +<p>"Have you been talking to somebody inside?" I asked +suddenly,<br> + turning to Rupert.</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't," he replied, with a grim smile, "but I should +very<br> + 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<br> + a moment and listened. From behind the wooden partition, in +which<br> + there was a long lean crack, was coming a continuous and +moaning<br> + sound which took the form of the words: "When shall I get out? +When<br> + shall I get out? Will they ever let me out?" or words to +that<br> + effect.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything about this?" I said, turning upon Rupert +very<br> + abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you think I am the criminal," he said +sardonically,<br> + "instead of being in some small sense the detective. I came +into<br> + this area two or three minutes ago, having told you that I +knew<br> + there was something funny going on, and this woman behind +the<br> + shutters (for it evidently is a woman) was moaning like mad. +No,<br> + my dear friend, beyond that I do not know anything about her. +She<br> + is not, startling as it may seem, my disinherited daughter, or +a<br> + member of my secret seraglio. But when I hear a human being +wailing<br> + that she can't get out, and talking to herself like a mad woman +and<br> + beating on the shutters with her fists, as she was doing two +or<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + into the crevice of the wood and broke away a huge splinter,<br> + leaving a gap and glimpse of the dark window-pane inside. The +room<br> + within was entirely unlighted, so that for the first few +seconds<br> + the window seemed a dead and opaque surface, as dark as a strip +of<br> + slate. Then came a realization which, though in a sense +gradual,<br> + made us step back and catch our breath. Two large dim human +eyes<br> + were so close to us that the window itself seemed suddenly to be +a<br> + mask. A pale human face was pressed against the glass within, +and<br> + with increased distinctness, with the increase of the opening +came<br> + 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<br> + the ferrule like a fencing sword at the glass, punched a hole +in<br> + it, smaller and more accurate than I should have supposed +possible.<br> + The moment he had done so the voice spouted out of the hole, so +to<br> + speak, piercing and querulous and clear, making the same demand +for<br> + liberty.</p> + +<p>"Can't you get out, madam?" I said, drawing near the hole in +some<br> + perturbation.</p> + +<p>"Get out? Of course I can't," moaned the unknown female +bitterly.<br> + "They won't let me. I told them I would be let out. I told +them<br> + I'd call the police. But it's no good. Nobody knows, nobody +comes.<br> + 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<br> + stick, incensed with this very sinister mystery, when Rupert +held<br> + my arm hard, held it with a curious, still, and secret rigidity +as<br> + if he desired to stop me, but did not desire to be observed to +do<br> + so. I paused a moment, and in the act swung slightly round, +so<br> + that I was facing the supporting wall of the front door steps. +The<br> + act froze me into a sudden stillness like that of Rupert, for +a<br> + figure almost as motionless as the pillars of the portico, +but<br> + unmistakably human, had put his head out from between the<br> + doorposts and was gazing down into the area. One of the +lighted<br> + lamps of the street was just behind his head, throwing it +into<br> + abrupt darkness. Consequently, nothing whatever could be seen +of<br> + his face beyond one fact, that he was unquestionably staring +at<br> + us. I must say I thought Rupert's calmness magnificent. He +rang<br> + the area bell quite idly, and went on talking to me with the +easy<br> + end of a conversation which had never had any beginning. The +black<br> + glaring figure in the portico did not stir. I almost thought +it<br> + was really a statue. In another moment the grey area was +golden<br> + with gaslight as the basement door was opened suddenly and a +small<br> + and decorous housemaid stood in it.</p> + +<p>"Pray excuse me," said Rupert, in a voice which he contrived +to<br> + make somehow or other at once affable and underbred, "but we<br> + thought perhaps that you might do something for the Waifs +and<br> + Strays. We don't expect--"</p> + +<p>"Not here," said the small servant, with the incomparable +severity<br> + of the menial of the non-philanthropic, and slammed the door +in<br> + our faces.</p> + +<p>"Very sad, very sad--the indifference of these people," said +the<br> + philanthropist with gravity, as we went together up the steps. +As<br> + we did so the motionless figure in the portico suddenly<br> + disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you make of that?" asked Rupert, slapping +his<br> + gloves together when we got into the street.</p> + +<p>I do not mind admitting that I was seriously upset. Under +such<br> + conditions I had but one thought.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think," I said a trifle timidly, "that we had +better<br> + tell your brother?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you like," said Rupert, in a lordly way. "He is +quite<br> + near, as I promised to meet him at Gloucester Road Station. +Shall<br> + we take a cab? Perhaps, as you say, it might amuse him."</p> + +<p>Gloucester Road Station had, as if by accident, a somewhat<br> + deserted look. After a little looking about we discovered +Basil<br> + Grant with his great head and his great white hat blocking +the<br> + ticket-office window. I thought at first that he was taking +a<br> + ticket for somewhere and being an astonishingly long time +about<br> + it. As a matter of fact, he was discussing religion with the<br> + booking-office clerk, and had almost got his head through the +hole<br> + in his excitement. When we dragged him away it was some time<br> + before he would talk of anything but the growth of an +Oriental<br> + fatalism in modern thought, which had been well typified by +some<br> + of the official's ingenious but perverse fallacies. At last +we<br> + managed to get him to understand that we had made an +astounding<br> + discovery. When he did listen, he listened attentively, +walking<br> + between us up and down the lamp-lit street, while we told him in +a<br> + rather feverish duet of the great house in South Kensington, +of<br> + the equivocal milkman, of the lady imprisoned in the basement, +and<br> + the man staring from the porch. At length he said:</p> + +<p><br> + "If you're thinking of going back to look the thing up, you must +be<br> + careful what you do. It's no good you two going there. To go +twice<br> + on the same pretext would look dubious. To go on a different<br> + pretext would look worse. You may be quite certain that the<br> + inquisitive gentleman who looked at you looked thoroughly, and +will<br> + wear, so to speak, your portraits next to his heart. If you want +to<br> + find out if there is anything in this without a police raid I +fancy<br> + 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<br> + the house. It stood up ponderous and purple against the last +pallor<br> + of twilight. It looked like an ogre's castle. And so apparently +it<br> + was.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it's safe, Basil," said his brother, pausing, +a<br> + little pale, under the lamp, "to go into that place alone? +Of<br> + course we shall be near enough to hear if you yell, but +these<br> + devils might do something--something sudden--or odd. I can't +feel<br> + it's safe."</p> + +<p>"I know of nothing that is safe," said Basil composedly, +"except,<br> + possibly--death," and he went up the steps and rang at the +bell.<br> + When the massive respectable door opened for an instant, cutting +a<br> + square of gaslight in the gathering dark, and then closed with +a<br> + bang, burying our friend inside, we could not repress a +shudder.<br> + It had been like the heavy gaping and closing of the dim lips +of<br> + some evil leviathan. A freshening night breeze began to blow +up<br> + the street, and we turned up the collars of our coats. At the +end<br> + of twenty minutes, in which we had scarcely moved or spoken, +we<br> + were as cold as icebergs, but more, I think, from +apprehension<br> + than the atmosphere. Suddenly Rupert made an abrupt movement<br> + towards the house.</p> + +<p>"I can't stand this," he began, but almost as he spoke sprang +back<br> + into the shadow, for the panel of gold was again cut out of +the<br> + black house front, and the burly figure of Basil was +silhouetted<br> + against it coming out. He was roaring with laughter and talking +so<br> + loudly that you could have heard every syllable across the +street.<br> + Another voice, or, possibly, two voices, were laughing and +talking<br> + back at him from within.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," Basil was calling out, with a sort of +hilarious<br> + hostility. "That's quite wrong. That's the most ghastly heresy +of<br> + all. It's the soul, my dear chap, the soul that's the arbiter +of<br> + cosmic forces. When you see a cosmic force you don't like, +trick<br> + it, my boy. But I must really be off."</p> + +<p>"Come and pitch into us again," came the laughing voice from +out<br> + of the house. "We still have some bones unbroken."</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much, I will--good night," shouted Grant, who had +by<br> + this time reached the street.</p> + +<p>"Good night," came the friendly call in reply, before the +door<br> + closed.</p> + +<p>"Basil," said Rupert Grant, in a hoarse whisper, "what are we +to<br> + 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<br> + excitement.</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure," said Basil doubtfully. "What do you say to +getting<br> + some dinner somewhere and going to the Court Theatre tonight? +I<br> + 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<br> + of that?"</p> + +<p>"Good? What do you mean?" answered Basil, staring also. "Have +you<br> + turned Puritan or Passive Resister, or something? For fun, +of<br> + course."</p> + +<p>"But, great God in Heaven! What are we going to do, I mean!" +cried<br> + Rupert. "What about the poor woman locked up in that house? +Shall I<br> + 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<br> + mistake, possibly. Or some quite trifling private affair. But +I'm<br> + sorry those fellows couldn't come with us. Shall we take one +of<br> + these green omnibuses? There is a restaurant in Sloane +Square."</p> + +<p>"I sometimes think you play the fool to frighten us," I +said<br> + irritably. "How can we leave that woman locked up? How can it be +a<br> + mere private affair? How can crime and kidnapping and murder, +for<br> + all I know, be private affairs? If you found a corpse in a +man's<br> + drawing-room, would you think it bad taste to talk about it +just<br> + 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<br> + know it's all right in this case. And there comes the green<br> + omnibus."</p> + +<p>"How do you know it's all right in this ease?" persisted +his<br> + brother angrily.</p> + +<p>"My dear chap, the thing's obvious," answered Basil, holding +a<br> + return ticket between his teeth while he fumbled in his +waistcoat<br> + pocket. "Those two fellows never committed a crime in their +lives.<br> + They're not the kind. Have either of you chaps got a halfpenny? +I<br> + want to get a paper before the omnibus comes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, curse the paper!" cried Rupert, in a fury. "Do you mean +to<br> + tell me, Basil Grant, that you are going to leave a fellow<br> + creature in pitch darkness in a private dungeon, because +you've<br> + had ten minutes' talk with the keepers of it and thought +them<br> + rather good men?"</p> + +<p>"Good men do commit crimes sometimes," said Basil, taking +the<br> + ticket out of his mouth. "But this kind of good man doesn't<br> + commit that kind of crime. Well, shall we get on this +omnibus?"</p> + +<p>The great green vehicle was indeed plunging and lumbering +along<br> + the dim wide street towards us. Basil had stepped from the +curb,<br> + and for an instant it was touch and go whether we should all +have<br> + leaped on to it and been borne away to the restaurant and +the<br> + theatre.</p> + +<p>"Basil," I said, taking him firmly by the shoulder, "I +simply<br> + won't leave this street and this house."</p> + +<p>"Nor will I," said Rupert, glaring at it and biting his +fingers.<br> + "There's some black work going on there. If I left it I +should<br> + 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<br> + further. You'll find it's all right, though. They're only +two<br> + young Oxford fellows. Extremely nice, too, though rather +infected<br> + with this pseudo-Darwinian business. Ethics of evolution and +all<br> + that."</p> + +<p>"I think," said Rupert darkly, ringing the bell, "that we +shall<br> + enlighten you further about their ethics."</p> + +<p>"And may I ask," said Basil gloomily, "what it is that you +propose<br> + to do?"</p> + +<p>"I propose, first of all," said Rupert, "to get into this +house;<br> + secondly, to have a look at these nice young Oxford men; +thirdly,<br> + 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<br> + an instant with one of his sudden laughs.</p> + +<p>"Poor little boys," he said. "But it almost serves them right +for<br> + holding such silly views, after all," and he quaked again +with<br> + 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<br> + your doing the poor chaps any harm."</p> + +<p>He was standing in the rear of our little procession, +looking<br> + indifferent and sometimes even sulky, but somehow the instant +the<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + of the Isis, and I realized that the door had been opened, not +by<br> + the decorous little servant girl, but by one of our hosts in<br> + person. He was a short, but shapely young gentleman, with +curly<br> + dark hair and a square, snub-nosed face. He wore slippers and +a<br> + sort of blazer of some incredible college purple.</p> + +<p>"This way," he said; "mind the steps by the staircase. This +house<br> + is more crooked and old-fashioned than you would think from +its<br> + snobbish exterior. There are quite a lot of odd corners in +the<br> + 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<br> + young inhabitants as a sitting-room, an apartment littered +with<br> + magazines and books ranging from Dante to detective stories. +The<br> + other youth, who stood with his back to the fire smoking a +corncob,<br> + was big and burly, with dead brown hair brushed forward and +a<br> + Norfolk jacket. He was that particular type of man whose +every<br> + feature and action is heavy and clumsy, and yet who is, you +would<br> + say, rather exceptionally a gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Any more arguments?" he said, when introductions had been<br> + effected. "I must say, Mr Grant, you were rather severe upon<br> + eminent men of science such as we. I've half a mind to chuck<br> + my D.Sc. and turn minor poet."</p> + +<p>"Bosh," answered Grant. "I never said a word against eminent +men<br> + of science. What I complain of is a vague popular philosophy +which<br> + supposes itself to be scientific when it is really nothing but +a<br> + sort of new religion and an uncommonly nasty one. When +people<br> + talked about the fall of man they knew they were talking about +a<br> + mystery, a thing they didn't understand. Now that they talk +about<br> + the survival of the fittest they think they do understand +it,<br> + whereas they have not merely no notion, they have an +elaborately<br> + false notion of what the words mean. The Darwinian movement +has<br> + made no difference to mankind, except that, instead of +talking<br> + unphilosophically about philosophy, they now talk +unscientifically<br> + about science."</p> + +<p>"That is all very well," said the big young man, whose +name<br> + appeared to be Burrows. "Of course, in a sense, science, +like<br> + mathematics or the violin, can only be perfectly understood +by<br> + specialists. Still, the rudiments may be of public use. +Greenwood<br> + here," indicating the little man in the blazer, "doesn't know +one<br> + note of music from another. Still, he knows something. He +knows<br> + enough to take off his hat when they play `God save the King'. +He<br> + doesn't take it off by mistake when they play `Oh, dem +Golden<br> + Slippers'. Just in the same way science--"</p> + +<p>Here Mr Burrows stopped abruptly. He was interrupted by an +argument<br> + uncommon in philosophical controversy and perhaps not wholly<br> + legitimate. Rupert Grant had bounded on him from behind, flung +an<br> + arm round his throat, and bent the giant backwards.</p> + +<p>"Knock the other fellow down, Swinburne," he called out, and +before<br> + I knew where I was I was locked in a grapple with the man in +the<br> + purple blazer. He was a wiry fighter, who bent and sprang like +a<br> + whalebone, but I was heavier and had taken him utterly by +surprise.<br> + I twitched one of his feet from under him; he swung for a moment +on<br> + the single foot, and then we fell with a crash amid the litter +of<br> + newspapers, myself on top.</p> + +<p>My attention for a moment released by victory, I could hear +Basil's<br> + voice finishing some long sentence of which I had not heard +the<br> + beginning.</p> + +<p>". . . wholly, I must confess, unintelligible to me, my dear +sir,<br> + and I need not say unpleasant. Still one must side with one's +old<br> + friends against the most fascinating new ones. Permit me,<br> + therefore, in tying you up in this antimacassar, to make it +as<br> + commodious as handcuffs can reasonably be while. . ."</p> + +<p>I had staggered to my feet. The gigantic Burrows was toiling +in the<br> + garotte of Rupert, while Basil was striving to master his +mighty<br> + hands. Rupert and Basil were both particularly strong, but so +was<br> + Mr Burrows; how strong, we knew a second afterwards. His head +was<br> + held back by Rupert's arm, but a convulsive heave went over +his<br> + whole frame. An instant after his head plunged forward like +a<br> + bull's, and Rupert Grant was slung head over heels, a +catherine<br> + wheel of legs, on the floor in front of him. Simultaneously +the<br> + bull's head butted Basil in the chest, bringing him also to +the<br> + ground with a crash, and the monster, with a Berserker roar, +leaped<br> + at me and knocked me into the corner of the room, smashing +the<br> + waste-paper basket. The bewildered Greenwood sprang furiously +to<br> + 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<br> + through the great house. Before I could get panting to my feet, +and<br> + before Rupert, who had been literally stunned for a few +moments,<br> + could even lift his head from the floor, two footmen were in +the<br> + room. Defeated even when we were in a majority, we were now<br> + outnumbered. Greenwood and one of the footmen flung themselves +upon<br> + me, crushing me back into the corner upon the wreck of the +paper<br> + basket. The other two flew at Basil, and pinned him against +the<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + bookcase, from between the swaying limbs of my captors and his. +To<br> + my astonishment his eyes were really brilliant with pleasure, +like<br> + those of a child heated by a favourite game.</p> + +<p>I made several apoplectic efforts to rise, but the servant was +on<br> + top of me so heavily that Greenwood could afford to leave me +to<br> + him. He turned quickly to come to reinforce the two who were<br> + mastering Basil. The latter's head was already sinking lower +and<br> + lower, like a leaking ship, as his enemies pressed him down. +He<br> + flung up one hand just as I thought him falling and hung on to +a<br> + huge tome in the bookcase, a volume, I afterwards discovered, +of<br> + St Chrysostom's theology. Just as Greenwood bounded across +the<br> + room towards the group, Basil plucked the ponderous tome +bodily<br> + out of the shelf, swung it, and sent it spinning through the +air,<br> + so that it struck Greenwood flat in the face and knocked him +over<br> + like a rolling ninepin. At the same instant Basil's +stiffness<br> + broke, and he sank, his enemies closing over him.</p> + +<p>Rupert's head was clear, but his body shaken; he was hanging +as<br> + best he could on to the half-prostrate Greenwood. They were +rolling<br> + over each other on the floor, both somewhat enfeebled by +their<br> + falls, but Rupert certainly the more so. I was still +successfully<br> + held down. The floor was a sea of torn and trampled papers +and<br> + magazines, like an immense waste-paper basket. Burrows and +his<br> + companion were almost up to the knees in them, as in a drift +of<br> + dead leaves. And Greenwood had his leg stuck right through a +sheet<br> + of the Pall Mall Gazette, which clung to it ludicrously, like +some<br> + fantastic trouser frill.</p> + +<p><br> + Basil, shut from me in a human prison, a prison of powerful +bodies,<br> + might be dead for all I knew. I fancied, however, that the +broad<br> + back of Mr Burrows, which was turned towards me, had a certain +bend<br> + of effort in it as if my friend still needed some holding +down.<br> + Suddenly that broad back swayed hither and thither. It was +swaying<br> + on one leg; Basil, somehow, had hold of the other. Burrows' +huge<br> + fists and those of the footman were battering Basil's sunken +head<br> + like an anvil, but nothing could get the giant's ankle out of +his<br> + sudden and savage grip. While his own head was forced slowly +down<br> + in darkness and great pain, the right leg of his captor was +being<br> + forced in the air. Burrows swung to and fro with a purple +face.<br> + Then suddenly the floor and the walls and the ceiling shook<br> + together, as the colossus fell, all his length seeming to fill +the<br> + floor. Basil sprang up with dancing eyes, and with three blows +like<br> + battering-rams knocked the footman into a cocked hat. Then +he<br> + sprang on top of Burrows, with one antimacassar in his hand +and<br> + another in his teeth, and bound him hand and foot almost before +he<br> + knew clearly that his head had struck the floor. Then Basil +sprang<br> + at Greenwood, whom Rupert was struggling to hold down, and +between<br> + them they secured him easily. The man who had hold of me let go +and<br> + turned to his rescue, but I leaped up like a spring released, +and,<br> + to my infinite satisfaction, knocked the fellow down. The +other<br> + footman, bleeding at the mouth and quite demoralized, was +stumbling<br> + out of the room. My late captor, without a word, slunk after +him,<br> + seeing that the battle was won. Rupert was sitting astride +the<br> + pinioned Mr Greenwood, Basil astride the pinioned Mr +Burrows.</p> + +<p>To my surprise the latter gentleman, lying bound on his back, +spoke<br> + 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,<br> + 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<br> + captive, "this is what we call the survival of the fittest."</p> + +<p>Rupert, who had been steadily collecting himself throughout +the<br> + latter phases of the fight, was intellectually altogether +himself<br> + again at the end of it. Springing up from the prostrate +Greenwood,<br> + and knotting a handkerchief round his left hand, which was +bleeding<br> + from a blow, he sang out quite coolly:</p> + +<p>"Basil, will you mount guard over the captive of your bow and +spear<br> + and antimacassar? Swinburne and I will clear out the prison<br> + downstairs."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Basil, rising also and seating himself in +a<br> + leisured way in an armchair. "Don't hurry for us," he said,<br> + glancing round at the litter of the room, "we have all the<br> + illustrated papers."</p> + +<p>Rupert lurched thoughtfully out of the room, and I followed +him<br> + even more slowly; in fact, I lingered long enough to hear, as +I<br> + passed through the room, the passages and the kitchen +stairs,<br> + Basil's voice continuing conversationally:</p> + +<p>"And now, Mr Burrows," he said, settling himself sociably in +the<br> + chair, "there's no reason why we shouldn't go on with that +amusing<br> + argument. I'm sorry that you have to express yourself lying on +your<br> + back on the floor, and, as I told you before, I've no more +notion<br> + why you are there than the man in the moon. A +conversationalist<br> + like yourself, however, can scarcely be seriously handicapped +by<br> + any bodily posture. You were saying, if I remember right, when +this<br> + incidental fracas occurred, that the rudiments of science +might<br> + with advantage be made public."</p> + +<p>"Precisely," said the large man on the floor in an easy tone. +"I<br> + hold that nothing more than a rough sketch of the universe as +seen<br> + by science can be. . ."</p> + +<p>And here the voices died away as we descended into the +basement. I<br> + noticed that Mr Greenwood did not join in the amicable +controversy.<br> + Strange as it may appear, I think he looked back upon our<br> + proceedings with a slight degree of resentment. Mr Burrows,<br> + however, was all philosophy and chattiness. We left them, as I +say,<br> + together, and sank deeper and deeper into the under-world of +that<br> + mysterious house, which, perhaps, appeared to us somewhat +more<br> + Tartarean than it really was, owing to our knowledge of its<br> + 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;<br> + doors that would naturally lead to the kitchen, the scullery, +the<br> + pantry, the servants' hall, and so on. Rupert flung open all +the<br> + doors with indescribable rapidity. Four out of the five opened +on<br> + entirely empty apartments. The fifth was locked. Rupert broke +the<br> + door in like a bandbox, and we fell into the sudden blackness +of<br> + the sealed, unlighted room.</p> + +<p>Rupert stood on the threshold, and called out like a man +calling<br> + into an abyss:</p> + +<p>"Whoever you are, come out. You are free. The people who held +you<br> + captive are captives themselves. We heard you crying and we came +to<br> + deliver you. We have bound your enemies upstairs hand and foot. +You<br> + are free."</p> + +<p>For some seconds after he had spoken into the darkness there +was<br> + a dead silence in it. Then there came a kind of muttering +and<br> + moaning. We might easily have taken it for the wind or rats if +we<br> + had not happened to have heard it before. It was unmistakably +the<br> + voice of the imprisoned woman, drearily demanding liberty, just +as<br> + we had heard her demand it.</p> + +<p>"Has anybody got a match?" said Rupert grimly. "I fancy we +have<br> + come pretty near the end of this business."</p> + +<p>I struck a match and held it up. It revealed a large, +bare,<br> + yellow-papered apartment with a dark-clad figure at the other +end<br> + of it near the window. An instant after it burned my fingers +and<br> + dropped, leaving darkness. It had, however, revealed +something<br> + more practical--an iron gas bracket just above my head. I +struck<br> + another match and lit the gas. And we found ourselves suddenly +and<br> + seriously in the presence of the captive.</p> + +<p>At a sort of workbox in the window of this subterranean<br> + breakfast-room sat an elderly lady with a singularly high +colour<br> + and almost startling silver hair. She had, as if designedly +to<br> + relieve these effects, a pair of Mephistophelian black +eyebrows<br> + and a very neat black dress. The glare of the gas lit up her<br> + piquant hair and face perfectly against the brown background +of<br> + the shutters. The background was blue and not brown in one +place;<br> + at the place where Rupert's knife had torn a great opening in +the<br> + wood about an hour before.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said he, advancing with a gesture of the hat, "permit +me<br> + to have the pleasure of announcing to you that you are free. +Your<br> + complaints happened to strike our ears as we passed down the<br> + 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<br> + for a moment with something of the apoplectic stare of a +parrot.<br> + 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<br> + you had rescued me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam," said Rupert, with a beaming condescension. "We +have<br> + very satisfactorily dealt with Mr Greenwood and Mr Burrows. We +have<br> + 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<br> + 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<br> + her seat by the window.</p> + +<p>"Do I understand," she said, with the air of a person about +to<br> + begin knitting, "that you have knocked down Mr Burrows and +tied<br> + him up?"</p> + +<p>"We have," said Rupert proudly; "we have resisted their +oppression<br> + 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<br> + at us for an instant.</p> + +<p>"But what about Greenwood and Burrows?" she said. "What did +I<br> + understand you to say had become of them?"</p> + +<p>"They are lying on the floor upstairs," said Rupert, +chuckling.<br> + "Tied hand and foot."</p> + +<p>"Well, that settles it," said the old lady, coming with a kind +of<br> + 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<br> + where you are? What power can force you now to stop in this<br> + miserable cell?"</p> + +<p>"The question rather is," said the old lady, with composure, +"what<br> + 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<br> + you here?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you don't intend to tie me up," she said, "and +carry me<br> + off? I certainly shall not go otherwise."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear madam," cried out Rupert, in a radiant +exasperation,<br> + "we heard you with our own ears crying because you could not +get<br> + out."</p> + +<p>"Eavesdroppers often hear rather misleading things," replied +the<br> + captive grimly. "I suppose I did break down a bit and lose +my<br> + temper and talk to myself. But I have some sense of honour for +all<br> + that."</p> + +<p>"Some sense of honour?" repeated Rupert, and the last light +of<br> + intelligence died out of his face, leaving it the face of an +idiot<br> + with rolling eyes.</p> + +<p>He moved vaguely towards the door and I followed. But I turned +yet<br> + once more in the toils of my conscience and curiosity. "Can we +do<br> + nothing for you, madam?" I said forlornly.</p> + +<p>"Why," said the lady, "if you are particularly anxious to do +me a<br> + little favour you might untie the gentlemen upstairs."</p> + +<p>Rupert plunged heavily up the kitchen staircase, shaking it +with<br> + his vague violence. With mouth open to speak he stumbled to +the<br> + door of the sitting-room and scene of battle.</p> + +<p>"Theoretically speaking, that is no doubt true," Mr Burrows +was<br> + saying, lying on his back and arguing easily with Basil; "but +we<br> + must consider the matter as it appears to our sense. The +origin<br> + 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<br> + interrupted in an argument.</p> + +<p>"The lady downstairs," replied Rupert. "The lady who was +locked up.<br> + She won't come out. And she says that all she wants is for us +to<br> + let these fellows loose."</p> + +<p>"And a jolly sensible suggestion," cried Basil, and with a +bound he<br> + was on top of the prostrate Burrows once more and was +unknotting<br> + 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<br> + purple jacket, who did not seem to regard any of the proceedings +as<br> + particularly sensible or brilliant. The gigantic Burrows, on +the<br> + other hand, was heaving with herculean laughter.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Basil, in his cheeriest way, "I think we must +be<br> + getting away. We've so much enjoyed our evening. Far too +much<br> + regard for you to stand on ceremony. If I may so express +myself,<br> + we've made ourselves at home. Good night. Thanks so much. +Come<br> + along, Rupert."</p> + +<p>"Basil," said Rupert desperately, "for God's sake come and see +what<br> + you can make of the woman downstairs. I can't get the +discomfort<br> + out of my mind. I admit that things look as if we had made a<br> + mistake. But these gentlemen won't mind perhaps. . ."</p> + +<p>"No, no," cried Burrows, with a sort of Rabelaisian +uproariousness.<br> + "No, no, look in the pantry, gentlemen. Examine the coal-hole. +Make<br> + a tour of the chimneys. There are corpses all over the house, +I<br> + assure you."</p> + +<p><br> + This adventure of ours was destined to differ in one respect +from<br> + others which I have narrated. I had been through many wild +days<br> + with Basil Grant, days for the first half of which the sun and +the<br> + moon seemed to have gone mad. But it had almost invariably +happened<br> + that towards the end of the day and its adventure things had<br> + cleared themselves like the sky after rain, and a luminous +and<br> + quiet meaning had gradually dawned upon me. But this day's work +was<br> + destined to end in confusion worse confounded. Before we left +that<br> + house, ten minutes afterwards, one half-witted touch was +added<br> + which rolled all our minds in cloud. If Rupert's head had +suddenly<br> + fallen off on the floor, if wings had begun to sprout out of<br> + Greenwood's shoulders, we could scarcely have been more +suddenly<br> + stricken. And yet of this we had no explanation. We had to go +to<br> + bed that night with the prodigy and get up next morning with it +and<br> + let it stand in our memories for weeks and months. As will be +seen,<br> + it was not until months afterwards that by another accident and +in<br> + another way it was explained. For the present I only state +what<br> + happened.</p> + +<p>When all five of us went down the kitchen stairs again, +Rupert<br> + leading, the two hosts bringing up the rear, we found the door +of<br> + the prison again closed. Throwing it open we found the place +again<br> + as black as pitch. The old lady, if she was still there, had +turned<br> + out the gas: she seemed to have a weird preference for sitting +in<br> + the dark.</p> + +<p>Without another word Rupert lit the gas again. The little old +lady<br> + turned her bird-like head as we all stumbled forward in the +strong<br> + gaslight. Then, with a quickness that almost made me jump, +she<br> + sprang up and swept a sort of old-fashioned curtsey or +reverence. I<br> + looked quickly at Greenwood and Burrows, to whom it was natural +to<br> + suppose this subservience had been offered. I felt irritated +at<br> + what was implied in this subservience, and desired to see the +faces<br> + of the tyrants as they received it. To my surprise they did +not<br> + seem to have seen it at all: Burrows was paring his nails with +a<br> + small penknife. Greenwood was at the back of the group and +had<br> + hardly entered the room. And then an amazing fact became +apparent.<br> + It was Basil Grant who stood foremost of the group, the +golden<br> + gaslight lighting up his strong face and figure. His face wore +an<br> + expression indescribably conscious, with the suspicion of a +very<br> + grave smile. His head was slightly bent with a restrained bow. +It<br> + was he who had acknowledged the lady's obeisance. And it was +he,<br> + beyond any shadow of reasonable doubt, to whom it had really +been<br> + directed.</p> + +<p>"So I hear," he said, in a kindly yet somehow formal voice, +"I<br> + hear, madam, that my friends have been trying to rescue you. +But<br> + without success."</p> + +<p>"No one, naturally, knows my faults better than you," answered +the<br> + lady with a high colour. "But you have not found me guilty +of<br> + treachery."</p> + +<p>"I willingly attest it, madam," replied Basil, in the same +level<br> + tones, "and the fact is that I am so much gratified with +your<br> + exhibition of loyalty that I permit myself the pleasure of<br> + exercising some very large discretionary powers. You would +not<br> + leave this room at the request of these gentlemen. But you +know<br> + that you can safely leave it at mine."</p> + +<p>The captive made another reverence. "I have never complained +of<br> + your injustice," she said. "I need scarcely say what I think +of<br> + your generosity."</p> + +<p>And before our staring eyes could blink she had passed out of +the<br> + room, Basil holding the door open for her.</p> + +<p>He turned to Greenwood with a relapse into joviality. "This +will<br> + be a relief to you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it will," replied that immovable young gentleman with a +face<br> + like a sphinx.</p> + +<p>We found ourselves outside in the dark blue night, shaken and +dazed<br> + 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<br> + you were my brother. But are you a man? I mean--are you only +a<br> + man?"</p> + +<p>"At present," replied Basil, "my mere humanity is proved by +one<br> + of the most unmistakable symbols--hunger. We are too late +for<br> + the theatre in Sloane Square. But we are not too late for +the<br> + restaurant. Here comes the green omnibus!" and he had leaped +on<br> + it before we could speak.</p> + +<p> +------------------------------------------------------------------------</p> + +<p>As I said, it was months after that Rupert Grant suddenly +entered<br> + my room, swinging a satchel in his hand and with a general air +of<br> + having jumped over the garden wall, and implored me to go with +him<br> + upon the latest and wildest of his expeditions. He proposed +to<br> + himself no less a thing than the discovery of the actual +origin,<br> + whereabouts, and headquarters of the source of all our joys +and<br> + sorrows--the Club of Queer Trades. I should expand this story +for<br> + ever if I explained how ultimately we ran this strange entity +to<br> + its lair. The process meant a hundred interesting things. +The<br> + tracking of a member, the bribing of a cabman, the fighting +of<br> + roughs, the lifting of a paving stone, the finding of a +cellar,<br> + the finding of a cellar below the cellar, the finding of the<br> + subterranean passage, the finding of the Club of Queer +Trades.</p> + +<p>I have had many strange experiences in my life, but never +a<br> + stranger one than that I felt when I came out of those +rambling,<br> + sightless, and seemingly hopeless passages into the sudden<br> + splendour of a sumptuous and hospitable dining-room, +surrounded<br> + upon almost every side by faces that I knew. There was Mr<br> + Montmorency, the Arboreal House-Agent, seated between the two +brisk<br> + young men who were occasionally vicars, and always +Professional<br> + Detainers. There was Mr P. G. Northover, founder of the +Adventure<br> + and Romance Agency. There was Professor Chadd, who invented +the<br> + dancing Language.</p> + +<p>As we entered, all the members seemed to sink suddenly into +their<br> + chairs, and with the very action the vacancy of the +presidential<br> + seat gaped at us like a missing tooth.</p> + +<p>"The president's not here," said Mr P. G. Northover, +turning<br> + suddenly to Professor Chadd.</p> + +<p>"N--no," said the philosopher, with more than his ordinary<br> + vagueness. "I can't imagine where he is."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens," said Mr Montmorency, jumping up, "I really +feel a<br> + 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<br> + ecstasy.</p> + +<p>"He's there, gentlemen--he's there all right--he's coming in +now,"<br> + he cried, and sat down. Rupert and I could hardly help feeling +the<br> + beginnings of a sort of wonder as to who this person might be +who<br> + was the first member of this insane brotherhood. Who, we +thought<br> + indistinctly, could be maddest in this world of madmen: what<br> + fantastic was it whose shadow filled all these fantastics with +so<br> + loyal an expectation?</p> + +<p>Suddenly we were answered. The door flew open and the room +was<br> + filled and shaken with a shout, in the midst of which Basil +Grant,<br> + smiling and in evening dress, took his seat at the head of +the<br> + table.</p> + +<p>How we ate that dinner I have no idea. In the common way I am +a<br> + person particularly prone to enjoy the long luxuriance of the +club<br> + dinner. But on this occasion it seemed a hopeless and +endless<br> + string of courses. Hors-d'oeuvre sardines seemed as big as<br> + herrings, soup seemed a sort of ocean, larks were ducks, +ducks<br> + were ostriches until that dinner was over. The cheese course +was<br> + maddening. I had often heard of the moon being made of green<br> + cheese. That night I thought the green cheese was made of +the<br> + moon. And all the time Basil Grant went on laughing and eating +and<br> + drinking, and never threw one glance at us to tell us why he +was<br> + there, the king of these capering idiots.</p> + +<p>At last came the moment which I knew must in some way +enlighten us,<br> + the time of the club speeches and the club toasts. Basil Grant +rose<br> + to his feet amid a surge of songs and cheers.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he said, "it is a custom in this society that +the<br> + president for the year opens the proceedings not by any +general<br> + toast of sentiment, but by calling upon each member to give a +brief<br> + account of his trade. We then drink to that calling and to all +who<br> + follow it. It is my business, as the senior member, to open +by<br> + stating my claim to membership of this club. Years ago, +gentlemen,<br> + I was a judge; I did my best in that capacity to do justice and +to<br> + administer the law. But it gradually dawned on me that in my +work,<br> + as it was, I was not touching even the fringe of justice. I +was<br> + seated in the seat of the mighty, I was robed in scarlet and<br> + ermine; nevertheless, I held a small and lowly and futile post. +I<br> + had to go by a mean rule as much as a postman, and my red and +gold<br> + was worth no more than his. Daily there passed before me taut +and<br> + passionate problems, the stringency of which I had to pretend +to<br> + relieve by silly imprisonments or silly damages, while I knew +all<br> + the time, by the light of my living common sense, that they +would<br> + have been far better relieved by a kiss or a thrashing, or a +few<br> + words of explanation, or a duel, or a tour in the West +Highlands.<br> + Then, as this grew on me, there grew on me continuously the +sense<br> + of a mountainous frivolity. Every word said in the court, a +whisper<br> + or an oath, seemed more connected with life than the words I had +to<br> + say. Then came the time when I publicly blasphemed the whole +bosh,<br> + 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<br> + I who were listening with intensity to this statement.</p> + +<p>"Well, I discovered that I could be of no real use. I +offered<br> + myself privately as a purely moral judge to settle purely +moral<br> + differences. Before very long these unofficial courts of +honour<br> + (kept strictly secret) had spread over the whole of society. +People<br> + were tried before me not for the practical trifles for which +nobody<br> + cares, such as committing a murder, or keeping a dog without +a<br> + licence. My criminals were tried for the faults which really +make<br> + social life impossible. They were tried before me for +selfishness,<br> + or for an impossible vanity, or for scandalmongering, or for<br> + stinginess to guests or dependents. Of course these courts had +no<br> + sort of real coercive powers. The fulfilment of their +punishments<br> + rested entirely on the honour of the ladies and gentlemen +involved,<br> + including the honour of the culprits. But you would be amazed +to<br> + know how completely our orders were always obeyed. Only lately +I<br> + had a most pleasing example. A maiden lady in South Kensington +whom<br> + I had condemned to solitary confinement for being the means +of<br> + breaking off an engagement through backbiting, absolutely +refused<br> + to leave her prison, although some well-meaning persons had +been<br> + inopportune enough to rescue her."</p> + +<p>Rupert Grant was staring at his brother, his mouth fallen +agape.<br> + So, for the matter of that, I expect, was I. This, then, was +the<br> + explanation of the old lady's strange discontent and her +still<br> + stranger content with her lot. She was one of the culprits of +his<br> + Voluntary Criminal Court. She was one of the clients of his +Queer<br> + Trade.</p> + +<p>We were still dazed when we drank, amid a crash of glasses, +the<br> + health of Basil's new judiciary. We had only a confused sense +of<br> + everything having been put right, the sense men will have +when<br> + 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<br> + Agency."</p> + +<p>And we heard equally dimly Northover beginning the statement +he<br> + had made long ago to Major Brown. Thus our epic ended where +it<br> + had begun, like a true cycle.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Club of Queer Trades, by G.K.Chesterton + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CLUB OF QUEER TRADES *** + +This file should be named tcoqt10h.htm or tcoqt10h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, tcoqt11h.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, tcoqt10ha.txt + +This HTM version was produced by Walter Debeuf + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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