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diff --git a/17103.txt b/17103.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..592644b --- /dev/null +++ b/17103.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8754 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Double Life Of Mr. Alfred Burton +by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +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 Double Life Of Mr. Alfred Burton + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: November 19, 2005 [EBook #17103] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOUBLE LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Kolodny + + + + + +THE DOUBLE LIFE + +OF + +MR. ALFRED BURTON + + +BY + +E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + I. THE FRUIT OF THE TREE + II. A TRANSFORMATION + III. MR. ALFRED BURTON'S FAMILY + IV. A SHOCK TO MR. WADDINGTON + V. BURTON'S NEW LIFE + VI. A MEETING WITH ELLEN + VII. LIE TRUTHFUL AUCTIONEER + VIII. HESITATION + IX. THE LAND OF ENCHANTMENT + X. NO RECONCILIATION + XI. THE GATE INTO PARADISE + XII. A BOLT FROM THE BLUE + XIII. PROOF POSITIVE + XIV. THE LEGEND OF THE PERFECT FOOD + XV. THE PROFESSOR INSISTS + XVI. ENTER MR. BOMFORD! + XVII. BURTON DECLINES + XVIII. THE END OP A DREAM + XIX. A BAD HALF-HOUR + XX. ANOTHER COMPLICATION + XXI. AN AMAZING TRANSFORMATION + XXII. DOUBTS + XXIII. CONDEMNED! + XXIV. MENATOGEN, THE MIND FOOD + XXV. DISCONTENT + XXVI. THE END OF A WONDERFUL WORLD + XXVII. MR. WADDINGTON ALSO +XXVIII. THE REAL ALFRED BURTON + XXIX. RICHES AND REPENTANCE + XXX. A MAN'S SOUL + + + +THE DOUBLE LIFE + +OF + +MR. ALFRED BURTON + +CHAPTER I + +THE FRUIT OF THE TREE + +Mr. Alfred Burton, although he was blissfully and completely ignorant +of the fact, stood at the door of Fate. He was a little out of breath +and his silk hat was reclining at the back of his head. In his mouth +was a large cigar which he felt certain was going to disagree with him, +but he smoked it because it had been presented to him a few minutes ago +by the client upon whom he was in attendance. He had rather deep-set +blue eyes, which might have been attractive but for a certain keenness +in their outlook, which was in a sense indicative of the methods and +character of the young man himself; a pale, characterless face, a +straggling, sandy moustache, and an earnest, not to say convincing, +manner. He was dressed in such garments as the head-clerk of Messrs. +Waddington & Forbes, third-rate auctioneers and house agents, might have +been expected to select. He dangled a bunch of keys in his hand. + +"If this house don't suit you, sir," he declared, confidently, "why, +there isn't one in the whole west-end that will. That's my opinion, +anyway. There's nothing in our books to compare with it for value and +accommodation. We nearly let it last week to Lord Leconside, but Her +Ladyship--she came round with me herself--decided that it was just a +trifle too large. As a matter of fact, sir," this energetic young man +went on, confidentially, "the governor insisted upon a deposit and it +didn't seem to be exactly convenient. It isn't always these people with +titles who've got the money. That we find out in our business, sir, as +quickly as anybody. As for the steam heating you were talking about, +Mr. Lynn, why, that's all very well for New York," he continued, +persuasively, "but over here the climate doesn't call for it--you can +take it from me that it doesn't, indeed, Mr. Lynn. I have the letting +in my hands of as many houses as most people, and you can take it from +me, sir, as the direct result of my experience, that over here they +won't have it--won't have it at any price, sir. Most unhealthy we find +it, and always produces a rare crop of colds and coughs unknown to those +that are used to an honest coal fire. It's all a matter of climate, +sir, after all, isn't it?" + +The young man paused to take breath. His client, who had been listening +attentively in gloomy but not unappreciative silence, removed his cigar +from his mouth. He was a middle-aged American with a wife and daughters +on their way over from New York, and his business was to take a house +before they arrived. It wasn't a job he liked, but he was making the +best of it. This young man appealed to his sense of business. + +"Say," he remarked, approvingly, "you've learned how to talk in your +trade!" + +Stimulated by this encouragement, Alfred Burton clapped on his hat a +little more securely, took a long breath, and went at it again. + +"Why, I'm giving myself a rest this morning, sir!" he declared. "I +haven't troubled to tell you more than the bare facts. This house +doesn't need any talking about--doesn't need a word said about it. Her +Ladyship's last words to us were--Lady Idlemay, you know, the owner of +the house--'Mr. Waddington and Mr. Burton,' she said--she was speaking +to us both, for the governor always introduces me to clients as being +the one who does most of the letting,--'Mr. Waddington and Mr. +Burton,' she said, 'if a tenant comes along whom you think I'd like to +have living in my rooms and using my furniture, breathing my air, so to +speak, why, go ahead and let the house, rents being shockingly low just +now, with agricultural depression and what not, but sooner than not let +it to gentlepeople, I'll do without the money,' Her Ladyship declared. +Now you're just the sort of tenant she'd like to have here. I'm quite +sure of that, Mr. Lynn. I should take a pleasure in bringing you two +together." + +Mr. Lynn grunted. He was perfectly well aware that the house would +seem more desirable to his wife and daughters from the very fact that it +belonged to a "Lady" anybody. He was perfectly well aware, also, that +his companion had suspected this. The consideration of these facts left +him, however, unaffected. He was disposed, if anything, to admire the +cleverness of the young man who had realized an outside asset. + +"Well, I've seen pretty well all over it," he remarked. "I'll go back +to the office with you, anyhow, and have a word with Mr. Waddington. +By the way, what's that room behind you?" + +The young man glanced carelessly around at the door of the room of Fate +and down at the bunch of keys which he held in his hand. He even +chuckled as he replied. + +"I was going to mention the matter of that room, sir," he replied, +"because, if perfectly agreeable to the tenant, Her Ladyship would like +to keep it locked up." + +"Locked up?" Mr. Lynn repeated. "And why?" + +"Regular queer story, sir," the young man declared, confidentially. +"The late Earl was a great traveller in the East, as you may have heard, +and he was always poking about in some ruined city or other in the +desert, and picking up things and making discoveries. Well, last time +he came home from abroad, he brought with him an old Egyptian or +Arab,--I don't know which he was, but he was brown,--settled him down in +this room--in his own house, mind--and wouldn't have him disturbed or +interfered with, not at any price. Well, the old chap worked here night +and day at some sort of writing, and then, naturally enough, what with +not having the sort of grub he liked, and never going outside the doors, +he croaked." + +"He what?" Mr. Lynn interposed. + +"He died," the young man explained. "It was just about the time that +the Earl was ill himself. His Lordship gave orders that the body was to +be buried and the room locked up, in case the old chap's heirs should +come along. Seems he'd brought a few odd things of his own +over--nothing whatever of any value. Anyway, those were Lord Idlemay's +wishes, and the room has been locked up ever since." + +Mr. Lynn was interested. + +"No objection to our just looking inside, I suppose?" + +"None whatever," the young man declared, promptly. "I was going to have +a peep myself. Here goes!" + +He fitted the key in the lock and pushed the door open. Mr. Lynn took +one step forward and drew back hurriedly. + +"Thanks!" he said. "That'll do! I've seen all I want--and smelt!" + +Mr. Alfred Burton, fortunately or unfortunately, was possessed of less +sensitive nasal organs and an indomitable curiosity. The room was dark +and stuffy, and a wave of pungent odor swept out upon them with the +opening of the door. Nevertheless, he did not immediately close it. + +"One moment!" he muttered, peering inside. "I'll just look around and +see that everything is in order." + +He crossed the threshold and passed into the room. It was certainly a +curious apartment. The walls were hung not with paper at all, but with +rugs of some Oriental material which had the effect of still further +increasing the gloom. There were neither chairs nor tables--no +furniture at all, in fact, of any account but in the furthest corner was +a great pile of cushions, and on the floor by the side a plain strip of +sandalwood, covered with a purple cloth, on which were several +square-shaped sheets of paper, a brass inkstand, and a bundle of quill +pens. On the extreme corner of this strip of wood, which seemed to have +been used as a writing desk by some one reclining upon the cushions, was +the strangest article of all. Alfred Burton stared at it with wide-open +eyes. It was a tiny plant growing out of a small-sized flower-pot, with +real green leaves and a cluster of queer little brown fruit hanging down +from among them. + +"Jiminy!" the clerk exclaimed. "I say, Mr. Lynn, sir!" + +But Mr. Lynn had gone off to pace the dining-room once more. Burton +moved slowly forward and stooped down over the cushions. He took up the +sheets of paper which lay upon the slab of sandalwood. They were +covered with wholly indecipherable characters save for the last page +only, and there, even as he stood with it in his fingers, he saw, +underneath the concluding paragraph of those unintelligible +hieroglyphics, a few words of faintly traced English, laboriously +printed, probably a translation. He struck a match and read them slowly +out to himself: + + +"It is finished. The nineteenth generation has triumphed. He who shall +eat of the brown fruit of this tree shall see the things of Life and +Death as they are. He who shall eat--" The translation concluded +abruptly. Mr. Alfred Burton removed his silk hat and reflectively +scratched his head. + +"Queer sort of joker he must have been," he remarked to himself. "I +wonder what he was getting at?" + +His eyes fell upon the little tree. He felt the earth in the pot it was +quite dry. Yet the tree itself was fresh and green. + +"Here goes for a brown bean," he continued, and plucked one. + +Even then, while he held it in his fingers, he hesitated. + +"Don't suppose it will do me any harm," he muttered, doubtfully. + +There was naturally no reply. Mr. Alfred Burton laughed uneasily to +himself. The shadows of the room and its curious perfume were a trifle +disconcerting. + +"Risk it, anyway," he concluded. "Here goes!" He raised the little +brown fruit--which did indeed somewhat resemble a bean--to his mouth and +swallowed it. He found it quite tasteless, but the deed was no sooner +done than he was startled by a curious buzzing in his ears and a +momentary but peculiar lapse of memory. He sat and looked around him +like a man who has been asleep and suddenly awakened in unfamiliar +surroundings. Then the sound of his client's voice suddenly recalled +him to himself. He started up and peered through the gloom. + +"Who's there?" he asked, sharply. + +"Say, young man, I am waiting for you when you're quite ready," Mr. +Lynn remarked from the threshold. "Queer sort of atmosphere in there, +isn't it?" + +Mr. Alfred Burton came slowly out and locked the door of the room. +Even then he was dimly conscious that something had happened to him. He +hated the musty odor of the place, the dusty, unswept hall, and the +general air of desertion. He wanted to get out into the street and he +hurried his client toward the front door. As soon as he had locked up, +he breathed a little sigh of relief. + +"What a delicious soft wind!" he exclaimed, removing his unsightly hat. +"Really, I think that when we get a sunny day like this, April is almost +our most beautiful month." + +Mr. Lynn stared at his companion, who was now slowly descending the +steps. + +"Say, about this house," he began, "I guess I'd better take it. It may +not be exactly what I want but it seems to me to be about as near as +anything I am likely to find. We'll go round to the office right away +and fix things up." + +Mr. Alfred Burton shook his head doubtfully. + +"I don't think I would take it, if I were you, Mr. Lynn," he said. + +Mr. Lynn stopped short upon the pavement and looked at his companion in +amazement. The latter had the air of one very little interested in the +subject of conversation. He was watching approvingly a barrowful of +lilac and other spring flowers being wheeled along by a flower-seller in +the middle of the road. + +"What an exquisite perfume!" the young man murmured, enthusiastically. +"Doesn't it remind you, Mr. Lynn, of a beautiful garden somewhere right +away in the country--one of those old-fashioned gardens, you know, with +narrow paths where you have to push your way through the flowers, and +where there are always great beds of pink and white stocks near the box +edges? And do you notice--an accident, of course--but what a delicate +blend of color the lilac and those yellow jonquils make!" + +"I can't smell anything," the American declared, a little impatiently, +"and I don't know as I want to just now. I am here to talk business, if +you don't mind." + +"In one moment," Burton replied. "Excuse me for one moment, if you +please." + +He hastened across the street and returned a moment or two later with a +bunch of violets in his hand. Mr. Lynn watched him, partly in +amazement, partly in disapproval. There seemed to be very little left +of the smart, businesslike young man whose methods, only a short time +ago, had commanded his unwilling admiration. Mr. Alfred Burton's +expression had undergone a complete change. His eyes had lost their +calculating twinkle, his mouth had softened. A pleasant but somewhat +abstracted smile had taken the place of his forced amiability. + +"You will forgive me, won't you?" he said, as he regained the pavement. +"I really haven't smelt violets before this year. Spring comes upon us +Londoners so suddenly." + +"About that house, now," the American insisted, a little sharply. + +"Certainly," Burton replied, removing his eyes unwillingly from the +passing barrow. "I really don't think you had better take it, Mr. +Lynn. You see, it is not generally known, but there is no doubt that +Lord Idlemay had typhoid fever there." + +"Typhoid!" Mr. Lynn exclaimed, incredulously. + +His companion nodded. + +"Two of the servants were down with it as well," he continued. "We +implored Lady Idlemay, when she offered us the letting of the house, to +have the drains put in thorough order, but when we got the estimate out +for her she absolutely declined. To tell you the truth, the best agents +had all refused, under the circumstances, to have the house upon their +books at all. That is why we got the letting of it." + +Mr. Lynn removed the cigar from his mouth for a moment. There was a +slight frown Upon his forehead. He was puzzled. + +"Say, you're not getting at me for any reason, are you?" he demanded. + +"My dear sir!" Burton protested, eagerly. "I am simply doing my duty +and telling you the truth. The house is not in a fit state to be let to +any one--certainly not to a man with a family. If you will permit me to +say so, you are not going the right way to secure a suitable house. You +simply walked into our office because you saw the sign up, and listened +to anything the governor had to say. We haven't any west-end houses at +all upon our books. It isn't our business, unfortunately. Miller & +Sons, or Roscoe's, are the best people. No one would even come to see +you at Idlemay House, much less stay with you--the place has such a bad +reputation." + +"Then will you be good enough to just explain to me why you were +cracking it up like blazes only a few minutes ago?" Mr. Lynn demanded, +indignantly. "I nearly took the darned place!" + +Mr. Burton shook his head penitently. + +"I am afraid that I cannot explain, sir," he confessed. "To tell you +the truth, I do not understand in the least how I could have brought +myself to be so untruthful. I am only thankful that no harm has been +done." + +They had reached the corner of the street in which the offices of +Messrs. Waddington & Forbes were situated. Mr. Lynn came to a full +stop. + +"I can't see but what we might just as well part here, young man," he +declared. "There's no use in my coming to your office, after what +you've told me." + +"Not the slightest," Mr. Burton admitted frankly, "in fact you are +better away. Mr. Waddington would certainly try to persuade you to +take the house. If you'll accept my advice, sir, you will go to Miller +& Sons in St. James's Place. They have all the best houses on their +books and they are almost certain to find something to suit you." + +Mr. Lynn gazed once more at his companion curiously. + +"Say, I'm not quite sure that I can size you up, even now," he said. +"At first I thought that you were a rare little hustler, right on the +job. I was set against that house and yet you almost persuaded me into +taking it. What's come over you, anyway?" + +Mr. Burton shook his head dubiously. + +"I am afraid that it is no use asking me," he replied, "for I really +don't quite know myself." + +Mr. Lynn still lingered. The longer he looked at his companion, the +more he appreciated the subtle change of demeanor and language which had +certainly transformed Mr. Alfred Burton. + +"It was after you came out of that little room," he continued, +meditatively, "where that Oriental fellow had been shut up. The more I +think of it, the odder it seems. You were as perky as mustard when you +went in and you've been sort of dazed ever Since you came out." + +Mr. Burton lifted his hat. + +"Good day, sir!" he said. "I trust that you will find a residence to +suit you." + +Mr. Lynn strolled off with a puzzled frown upon his forehead, and +Alfred Burton, with a slight gesture of aversion, pushed open the +swinging doors which led into the offices of Messrs. Waddington & +Forbes. + + + +CHAPTER II + +A TRANSFORMATION + +Burton stood for a moment upon the threshold of the office, looking +around him. A new and peculiar distaste for these familiar surroundings +seemed suddenly to have sprung into life. For the first time he +realized the intense ugliness of this scene of his daily labors. The +long desk, ink-splashed and decrepit, was covered with untidy piles of +papers, some of them thick with dust; the walls were hung with +seedy-looking files and an array of tattered bills; there were cobwebs +in every corner, gaps in the linoleum floor-covering. In front of the +office-boy--a youth about fourteen years of age, who represented the +remaining clerical staff of the establishment--were pinned up several +illustrations cut out from _Comic Cuts_, the _Police News_, and various +other publications of a similar order. As Burton looked around him, his +distaste grew. It seemed impossible that he had ever existed for an +hour amid such an environment. The prospect of the future was suddenly +hugely distasteful. + +Very slowly he changed his coat and climbed on to his worn horsehair +stool, without exchanging his usual facetious badinage with the +remaining member of the staff. The office-boy, who had thought of +something good to say, rather resented his silence. It forced him into +taking the initiative, a position which placed him from the first at a +disadvantage. + +"Any luck with the Yank, Mr. Burton?" he inquired, with anxious +civility. + +Burton shook his head. + +"None at all," he confessed. "He wouldn't have anything to do with the +house." + +"Has any one been letting on to him about it, do you think?" + +"I don't think so," Burton replied. "I don't think any one else has +mentioned it to him at all. He seems to be a complete stranger here." + +"Couldn't have been quite at your best, could you, Mr. Burton, sir? +Not your usual bright and eloquent self, eh?" + +The boy grinned and then ducked, expecting a missile. None came, +however. Alfred Burton was in a very puzzled state of mind, and he +neither showed nor indeed felt any resentment. He turned and faced his +subordinate. + +"I really don't know, Clarkson," he admitted. "I am sure that I was +quite polite, and I showed him everything he wished to see; but, of +course, I had to tell him the truth about the place." + +"The what?" young Clarkson inquired, in a mystified tone. + +"The truth," Burton repeated. + +"Wot yer mean?" + +"About the typhoid and that," Burton explained, mildly. + +The office-boy pondered for a moment. Then he slowly opened a ledger, +drew a day-book towards him, and continued his work. He was being +jollied, of course, but the thing was too subtle for him at present. He +decided to wait for the next move. Burton continued to regard his +subordinate, however, and by degrees an expression of pained disapproval +crept into his face. + +"Clarkson," he said, "if you will forgive my mentioning a purely +personal matter, why do you wear such uncomfortable collars and such an +exceedingly unbecoming tie?" + +The office-boy swung round upon his stool. His mouth was wide open like +a rabbit's. He fingered the offending articles. + +"What's the matter with them?" he demanded, getting his question out +with a single breath. + +"Your collars are much too high," Burton pointed out. "One can see how +they cut into your neck. Then why wear a tie of that particular shade +of vivid purple when your clothes themselves, with that blue and yellow +stripe, are somewhat noticeable? There is a lack of symphony about the +arrangement, an entire absence of taste, which is apt to depress one. +The whole effect which you produce upon one's vision is abominable. You +won't think my mentioning this a liberty, I hope?" + +"What about your own red tie and dirty collar?" young Clarkson asked, +indignantly. "What price your eight and sixpenny trousers, eh, with the +blue stripe and the grease stains? What about the sham diamond stud in +your dickey, and your three inches of pinned on cuff? Fancy your +appearance, perhaps! Why, I wouldn't walk the streets in such a +rig-out!" + +Burton listened to his junior's attack unresentingly but with increasing +bewilderment. Then he slipped from his seat and walked hurriedly across +to the looking-glass, which he took down from its nail. He gazed at +himself long and steadily and from every possible angle. It is probable +that for the first time in his life he saw himself then as he really +was. He was plain, of insignificant appearance, he was ill and +tastelessly dressed. He stood there before the sixpenny-ha'penny mirror +and drank the cup of humiliation. + +"Calling my tie, indeed!" the office-boy muttered, his smouldering +resentment bringing him back to the attack. "Present from my best girl, +that was, and she knows what's what. Young lady with a place in a +west-end milliner's shop, too. If that doesn't mean good taste, I +should like to know what does. Look at your socks, too, all coming down +over the tops of your boots! Nasty dirty pink and green stripes! +There's another thing about my collar, too," he continued, speaking with +renewed earnestness as he appreciated his senior's stupefaction. "It +was clean yesterday, and that's more than yours was--or the day before!" + +Burton shivered as he finally turned away from that looking-glass. The +expression upon his face was indescribable. + +"I am sorry I spoke, Clarkson," he apologized humbly. "It certainly +seemed to have slipped my memory that I myself--I can't think how I +managed to make such hideous, unforgivable mistakes." + +"While we are upon the subject," his subordinate continued, ruthlessly, +"why don't you give your fingernails a scrub sometimes, eh? You might +give your coat a brush, too, now and then, while you are about it. All +covered with scurf and dust about the shoulders! I'm all for +cleanliness, I am." + +Burton made no reply. He was down and his junior kicked him. + +"I'd like to see the color of your shirt if you took those paper cuffs +off!" the latter exclaimed. "Why don't you chuck that rotten dickey +away? Cave!" + +The door leading into the private office was brusquely opened. Mr. +Waddington, the only existing member of the firm, entered---a large, +untidy-looking man, also dressed in most uncomely fashion, and wearing +an ill-brushed silk hat on the back of his head. He turned at once to +his righthand man. + +"Well, did you land him?" he demanded, with some eagerness. + +Burton shook his head regretfully. + +"It was quite impossible to interest him in the house at all, sir," he +declared. "He seemed inclined to take it at first, but directly he +understood the situation he would have nothing more to do with it." + +Mr. Waddington's face fell. He was disappointed. He was also puzzled. + +"Understood the situation," he repeated. "What the dickens do you mean, +Burton? What situation?" + +"I mean about the typhoid, sir, and Lady Idlemay's refusal to have the +drains put in order." + +Mr. Waddington's expression for a few moments was an interesting and +instructive study. His jaw had fallen, but he was still too bewildered +to realize the situation properly. + +"But who told him?" he gasped. + +"I did," Burton replied gently. "I could not possibly let him remain in +ignorance of the facts." + +"You couldn't--what?" + +"I could not let him the house without explaining all the circumstances, +sir," Burton declared, watching his senior anxiously. "I am sure you +would not have wished me to do anything of the sort, would you?" + +What Mr. Waddington said was unimportant. There was very little that +he forgot and he was an auctioneer with a low-class clientele and a fine +flow of language. When he had finished, the office-boy was dumb with +admiration. Burton was looking a little pained and he had the shocked +expression of a musician who has been listening to a series of discords. +Otherwise he was unmoved. + +"Your duty was to let that house," Mr. Waddington wound up, striking +the palm of one hand with the fist of the other. "What do I give you +forty-four shillings a week for, I should like to know? To go and blab +trade secrets to every customer that comes along? If you couldn't get +him to sign the lease, you ought to have worked a deposit, at any rate. +He'd have had to forfeit that, even if he'd found out afterwards." + +"I am sorry," Burton said, speaking in a much lower tone than was usual +with him, but with a curious amount of confidence. "It would have been +a moral falsehood if I had attempted anything of the sort. I could not +possibly offer the house to Mr. Lynn or anybody else, without +disclosing its drawbacks." + +The auctioneer's face had become redder. His eyes seemed on the point +of coming out of his head. He became almost incoherent. + +"God bless my soul!" he spluttered. "Have you gone mad, Burton? What's +come to you since the morning? Have you changed into a blithering fool, +or what?" + +"I think not, sir," Burton replied, gravely. "I don't--exactly remember +for the moment," he went on with a slight frown. "My head seems a +little confused, but I cannot believe that it has been our custom to +conduct our business in the fashion you are suggesting." + +Mr. Waddington walked round the office, holding his head between his +hands. + +"I don't suppose either of us has been drinking at this hour in the +morning," he muttered, when he came to a standstill once more. "Look +here, Burton, I don't want to do anything rash. Go home--never mind the +time--go home this minute before I break out again. Come to-morrow +morning, as usual. We'll talk it out then. God bless my soul!" he +added, as Burton picked up his hat with a little sigh of relief and +turned toward the door. "Either I'm drunk or the fellow's got religion +or something! I never heard such infernal rubbish in my life!" + +"Made a nasty remark about my tie just now, sir," Clarkson said, with +dignity, as his senior disappeared. "Quite uncalled for. I don't fancy +he can be well." + +"Ever known him like it before?" Mr. Waddington inquired. + +"Never, sir. I thought he seemed chippier than ever this morning when +he went out. His last words were that he'd bet me a packet of Woodbines +that he landed the old fool." + +"He's gone dotty!" the auctioneer decided, as he turned back towards his +sanctum. "He's either gone dotty or he's been drinking. The last chap +in the world I should have thought it of!" + + +The mental attitude of Alfred Burton, as he emerged into the street, was +in some respects curious. He was not in the least sorry for what had +happened. On the contrary, he found himself wishing that the day's +respite had not been granted to him, and that his departure from the +place of his employment was final. He was very much in the position of +a man who has been transferred without warning or notice from the +streets of London to the streets of Pekin. Every object which he saw he +looked upon with different eyes. Every face which he passed produced a +different impression upon him. He looked about him with all the avidity +of one suddenly conscious of a great store of unused impressions. It +was like a second birth. He neither understood the situation nor +attempted to analyze it. He was simply conscious of a most delightful +and inexplicable light-heartedness, and of a host of sensations which +seemed to produce at every moment some new pleasure. His first and most +pressing anxiety was a singular one. He loathed himself from head to +foot. He shuddered as he passed the shop-windows for fear he should see +his own reflection. He made his way unfalteringly to an outfitter's +shop, and from there, with a bundle under his arm, to the baths. It was +a very different Alfred Burton indeed who, an hour or two later, issued +forth into the streets. Gone was the Cockney young man with the sandy +moustache, the cheap silk hat worn at various angles to give himself a +rakish air, the flashy clothes, cheap and pretentious, the assured, not +to say bumptious air so sedulously copied from the deportment of his +employer. Enter a new and completely transformed Alfred Burton, an +inoffensive-looking young man in a neat gray suit, a lilac-colored tie +of delicate shade, a flannel shirt with no pretence at cuffs, but with a +spotless turned down collar, a soft Homburg hat, a clean-shaven lip. +With a new sense of self-respect and an immense feeling of relief, +Burton, after a few moments' hesitation, directed his footsteps towards +the National Gallery. He had once been there years ago on a wet Bank +Holiday, and some faint instinct of memory which somehow or other had +survived the burden of his sordid days suddenly reasserted itself. He +climbed the steps and passed through the portals with the beating heart +of the explorer who climbs his last hill. It was his entrance, this, +into the new world whose call was tearing at his heartstrings. He +bought no catalogue, he asked no questions. From room to room he passed +with untiring footsteps. His whole being was filled with the +immeasurable relief, the almost passionate joy, of one who for the first +time is able to gratify a new and marvelous appetite. With his eyes, +his soul, all these late-born, strange, appreciative powers, he +ministered to an appetite which seemed unquenchable. It was dusk when +he came out, his cheeks burning, his eyes bright. He carried a new +music, a whole world of new joys with him, but his most vital sensation +was one of glowing and passionate sympathy. They were splendid, these +heroes who had seen the truth and had struggled to give life to it with +pencil or brush or chisel, that others, too, might see and understand. +If only one could do one's little share! + +He walked slowly along, absorbed in his thoughts, unconscious even of +the direction in which his footsteps were taking him. When at last he +paused, he was outside a theatre. The name of Ibsen occupied a +prominent place upon the boards. From somewhere among the hidden cells +of his memory came a glimmering recollection--a word or two read at +random, an impression, only half understood, yet the germ of which had +survived. Ibsen! A prophet of truth, surely! He looked eagerly down +the placard for the announcements and the prices of admission. And then +a sudden cold douche of memory descended upon his new enthusiasms. +There was Ellen! + + + +CHAPTER III + +MR. ALFRED BURTON'S FAMILY + +There certainly was Ellen! Like a man on his way to prison, Alfred +Burton took his place in a third-class carriage in his customary train +to Garden Green. Ned Miles, who travelled in the oil trade, came up and +smote him upon the shoulder. + +"Say, cocky, what have you been doing to yourself?" he demanded in +amazement. "Have you robbed a bank and going about in disguise, eh? +Why, the missis won't know you!" + +Burton shrank a little back in his place. His eyes seemed filled with +some nameless distaste as he returned the other's gaze. + +"I have taken a dislike to my former style of dress," he replied simply, +"also to my moustache." + +"Taken a dislike--Lord love a duck!" his quondam friend exclaimed. +"Strike me blind if I should have known you! Taken a dislike to +the--here, Alf, is this a game?" + +"Not at all," Burton answered quietly. "It is the truth. It is one of +those matters, I suppose," he continued, "which principally concern +oneself." + +"No need to get jumpy about it," Mr. Miles remarked, still a little +dazed. "Come in and have some farthing nap with the boys. They won't +recognize you in that get-up. We'll have a lark with them." + +Burton shook his head. Again he was unable to keep the distaste from +his eyes or tone. + +"Not to-night, thank you." + +The train was just moving, so Miles was obliged to hurry off, but at +Garden Green, Burton was compelled to run the gauntlet of their cheers +and mockery as he passed down the platform. Good sports and excellent +fellows he had thought them yesterday. To-day he had no words for them. +He simply knew that they grated upon every nerve in his body and that he +loathed them. For the first time he began to be frightened. What was +this thing that had happened to him? How was it possible for him to +continue his daily life? + +As soon as he was out of the station, his troubles began again. A veil +seemed to have been torn from before his eyes. Just as in London every +face into which he had looked, every building which he had passed, had +seemed to him unfamiliar, appealing to an altered system of impressions, +so here, during that brief walk, a new disgust was born in him. The +showy-looking main street with its gingerbread buildings, all new and +glittering with paint, appalled him. The larger villas--self-conscious +types all reeking with plaster and false decorations--set him shivering. +He turned into his own street and his heart sank. Something had indeed +touched his eyes and he saw new and terrible things. The row of houses +looked as though they had come out of a child's playbox. They were all +untrue, shoddy, uninviting. The waste space on the other side of the +unmade street, a repository for all the rubbish of the neighborhood, +brought a groan to his lips. He stopped before the gate of his own +little dwelling. There were yellow curtains in the window, tied back +with red velvet. Even with the latch of the gate in his hand, he +hesitated. A child in a spotted velveteen suit and a soiled lace +collar, who had been playing in the street, greeted him with an amazed +shout and then ran on ahead. + +"Mummy, come and look at Daddy!" the boy shrieked. "He's cut off all +the hair from his lip and he's got such funny clothes on! Do come and +look at his hat!" + +The child was puny, unprepossessing, and dirty. Worse tragedy than +this, Burton knew it. The woman who presently appeared to gaze at him +with open-mouthed wonder, was pretentiously and untidily dressed, with +some measure of good looks woefully obscured by a hard and unsympathetic +expression. Burton knew these things also. It flashed into his mind as +he stood there that her first attraction to him had been because she +resembled his ill-conceived idea of an actress. As a matter of fact, +she resembled much more closely her cousin, who was a barmaid. Burton +looked into the tragedy of his life and shivered. + +"What in the name of wonder's the meaning of this, Alfred?" his better +half demanded. "What are you standing there for, looking all struck of +a heap?" + +He made no reply. Speech, for the moment, was absolutely impossible. +She stood and stared at him, her arms akimbo, disapproval written in her +face. Her hair was exceedingly untidy and there was a smut upon her +cheek. A soiled lace collar, fastened with an imitation diamond brooch, +had burst asunder. + +"What's come to your moustache?" she demanded. "And why are you dressed +like--like a house-painter on a Sunday?" + +Burton found his first gleam of consolation. A newly-discovered sense +of humor soothed him inexplicably. + +"Sorry you don't like my clothes," he replied. "You'll get used to +them." + +"Get used to them!" his better half repeated, almost hysterically. "Do +you mean to say you are going about like that?" + +"Something like it," Burton admitted. + +"No silk hat, no tail coat?" + +Burton shook his head gently. + +"I trust," he said, "that I have finished, for the present, at any rate, +with those most unsightly garments." + +"Come inside," Ellen ordered briskly. + +They passed into the little sitting-room. Burton glanced around him +with a half-frightened sense of apprehension. His memory, at any rate, +had not played him false. Everything was as bad--even worse than he had +imagined. The suite of furniture which was the joy of his wife's heart +had been, it is true, exceedingly cheap, but the stamped magenta velvet +was as crude in its coloring as his own discarded tie. He looked at the +fringed cloth upon the table, the framed oleographs upon the wall, and +he was absolutely compelled to close his eyes. There was not a single +thing anywhere which was not discordant. + +Mrs. Burton had not yet finished with the subject of clothes. The +distaste upon her face had rather increased. She looked her husband up +and down and her eyes grew bright with anger. + +"Well, I did think," she declared, vigorously, "that I was marrying a +man who looked like a gentleman, at least! Do you mean to say, Alfred, +that you mean to go into the city like that?" + +"Certainly," Burton replied. "And Ellen!" + +"Well?" + +"Since we are upon the subject of dress, may I have a few words? You +have given expression to your dislikes quite freely. You will not mind +if I do the same?" + +"Well, what have you got to say?" she demanded, belligerently. + +"I don't like your bun," Burton said firmly. + +"Don't like my what?" his wife shrieked, her hands flying to the back of +her head. + +"I don't like your bun--false hair, or whatever you call it," Burton +repeated. "I don't like that brooch with the false diamonds, and if you +can't afford a clean white blouse, I'd wear a colored one." + +Mrs. Burton's mouth was open but for the moment she failed to express +herself adequately. Her husband continued. + +"Your skirt is fashionable, I suppose, because it is very short and very +tight, but it makes you walk like a duck, and it leaves unconcealed so +much of your stockings that I think at least you should be sure that +they are free from holes." + +"You called my skirt smart only yesterday," Ellen gasped, "and I wasn't +going out of doors in these stockings." + +"It is just as bad to wear them indoors or outdoors, whether any one +sees them or whether any one does not," Burton insisted. "Your own +sense of self-respect should tell you that. Did you happen, by the bye, +to glance at the boy's collar when you put it on?" + +"What, little Alf now?" his mother faltered. "You're getting on to him +now, are you?" + +"I certainly should wish," Burton protested mildly, "that he was more +suitably dressed. A plain sailor-suit, or a tweed knickerbocker suit +with a flannel collar, would be better than those velveteen things with +that lace abomination. And why is he tugging at your skirt so?" + +"He is ready to start," Ellen replied sharply. "Haven't forgotten +you're taking us to the band, have you?" + +"I had forgotten it," Burton admitted, "but I am quite willing to go." + +Ellen turned towards the stairs. + +"Down in five minutes," she announced. "I hope you've finished all that +rubbishing talk. There's some tea in the tea-pot on the hob, if you +want any. Don't upset things." + +Burton drifted mechanically into the kitchen, noting its disorder with a +new disapproval. He sat on the edge of the table for a few moments, +gazing helplessly about him. Presently Ellen descended the stairs and +called to him. He took up his hat and followed his wife and the boy out +of the house. The latter eyed him wonderingly. + +"Look at pa's hat!" he shouted. "Oh, my!" + +Ellen stopped short upon her way to the gate. + +"Alfred," she exclaimed, "you don't mean to say you're coming out with +us like that--coming to the band, too, where we shall meet everyone?" + +"Certainly, my dear," Burton replied, placing the object of their +remarks fearlessly upon his head. "You may not be quite used to it yet, +but I can assure you that it is far more becoming and suitable than a +cheap silk hat, especially for an occasion like the present." + +Ellen opened her mouth and closed it again--it was perhaps wise! + +"Come on," she said abruptly. "Alfred wants to hear the soldier music +and we are late already. Take your father's hand." + +They started upon their pilgrimage. Burton, at any rate, spent a +miserable two hours. He hated the stiff, brand-new public garden in +which they walked, with its stunted trees, its burnt grass, its +artificial and weary flower-beds. He hated the people who stood about +as they did, listening to the band,--the giggling girls, the callow, +cigarette-smoking youths, the dressed up, unnatural replicas of his own +wife and himself, with whom he was occasionally forced to hold futile +conversation. He hated the sly punch in the ribs from one of his +quondam companions, the artful murmur about getting the missis to look +another way and the hurried visit to a neighboring public-house, the +affected anger and consequent jokes which followed upon their return. +As they walked homeward, the cold ugliness of it all seemed almost to +paralyze his newly awakened senses. It was their social evening of the +week, looked forward to always by his wife, spoken of cheerfully by him +even last night, an evening when he might have had to bring home friends +to supper, to share a tin of sardines, a fragment of mutton, Dutch +cheese, and beer which he himself would have had to fetch from the +nearest public-house. He wiped his forehead and found that it was wet. +Then Ellen broke the silence. + +"What I should like to know, Alfred, is--what's come to you?" she +commenced indignantly. "Not a word have you spoken all the evening--you +that there's no holding generally with your chaff and jokes. What Mr. +and Mrs. Johnson must have thought of you, I can't imagine, standing +there like a stick when they stopped to be civil for a few minutes, and +behaving as though you never even heard their asking us to go in and +have a bite of supper. What have we done, eh, little Alf and me? You +look at us as though we had turned into ogres. Out with it, my man. +What's wrong?" + +"I am not--" + +Burton stopped short. The lie of ill-health stuck in his throat. He +thirsted to tell the truth, but a new and gentle kindliness kept him +speechless. Ellen was beginning to get a little frightened. + +"What is it that's come to you, Alfred?" she again demanded. "Have you +lost your tongue or your wits or what?" + +"I do not know," he answered truthfully enough. His manner was so +entirely non-provocative that her resentment for a moment dropped. + +"What's changed you since yesterday?" she persisted. "What is it that +you don't like about us, anyway? What do you want us to do?" + +Burton sighed. He would have given a great deal to have been able to +prevaricate, but he could not. It was the truth alone which he could +speak. + +"I should like you," he said, "to take down your hair and throw away all +that is not real, to wash it until it is its natural color, to brush it +hard, and then do it up quite simply, without a net or anything. Then I +should like you to wash your face thoroughly in plain soap and water and +never again touch a powder-puff or that nasty red stuff you have on your +lips. I should like you to throw away those fancy blouses with the +imitation lace, which are ugly to start with, and which you can't afford +to have washed often enough, and I should like you to buy some plain +linen shirts and collars, a black tie, and a blue serge skirt made so +that you could walk in it naturally." + +Ellen did not at that moment need any rouge, nor any artificial means of +lending brightness to her eyes. What she really seemed to need was +something to keep her still. + +"Anything else?" she demanded, unsteadily. + +"Some thicker stockings, or, if not thicker, stockings without that +open-work stuff about them," Burton continued earnestly, warming now to +his task. "You see, the open-work places have all spread into little +holes, and one can't help noticing it, especially as your shoes are such +a bright yellow. That stuff that looks like lace at the bottom of your +petticoat has got all draggled. I should cut it off and throw it +away. Then I'd empty all that scent down the drain, and wear any sort +of gloves except those kid ones you have had cleaned so often." + +"And my hat?" she asked with trembling lips. "What about my hat? Don't +leave that out." + +"Burn it," he replied eagerly, "feathers and all. They've been dyed, +haven't they? more than once, and I think their present color is their +worst. It must be very uncomfortable to wear, too, with all those pins +sticking out of it. Colored glass they are made of, aren't they? They +are not pretty, you know. I'll buy you a hat, if you like, a plain felt +or straw, with just a few flowers. You'll look as nice again." + +"Finished?" + +He looked at her apprehensively. + +"There are one or two things about the house--" he commenced. + +Ellen began to talk--simply because she was unable to keep silent any +longer. The longer she talked, the more eloquent she became. When she +had finished, Burton had disappeared. She followed him to the door, and +again to the gate. Her voice was still ringing in his ears as he turned +the corner of the street. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A SHOCK TO MR. WADDINGTON + +Punctually at nine o'clock on the following morning, Alfred Burton, +after a night spent in a very unsatisfactory lodging-house, hung up his +gray Homburg on the peg consecrated to the support of his discarded silk +hat, and prepared to plunge into his work. The office-boy, who had been +stricken dumb at his senior's appearance, recovered himself at last +sufficiently for speech. + +"My eye!" he exclaimed. "Whose clothes have you been stealing? What +have you been up to, eh? Committing a burglary or a murder?" + +Burton shook his head. + +"Nothing of the sort," he replied pleasantly. "The fact is I came to +the conclusion that my late style of dress, as you yourself somewhat +eloquently pointed out yesterday, was unbecoming." + +The boy seemed a little dazed. + +"You look half way between a toff and an artist!" he declared. "What's +it all about, anyway? Have you gone crazy?" + +"I don't think so," Burton replied. "I rather think I have come to my +senses. Have you got those last furniture accounts?" + +"No use starting on that job," Clarkson informed him, genially. "The +guvnor wants you down at the salesrooms, you've got to clerk for him." + +Burton looked very blank indeed. A flood of unpleasant recollections +assailed him. He had lied a good deal in the letting of houses, but he +had lied more still in the auction room. And to-day's sale! He knew +all about it! He knew a great deal more than under the circumstances it +was wise for him to know! + +"I quite forgot," he said slowly, "that there was a sale to-day. I +don't suppose Mr. Waddington would let you take my place, Clarkson?" + +"Not on your life!" the boy replied. "I've got to stay here and boss +the show. You'd better hurry along, too. It's Thursday morning and you +know the people come in early. Lord, what a guy you look!" + +Very slowly and very reluctantly Burton made his way through the gloomy +warehouse and into the salesrooms, which were approached from the street +by a separate entrance. He knew exactly what was before him and he +realized that it must be the end. Mr. Waddington, who had not yet +mounted the rostrum, saw him come in, stared at him for several moments +in his gray clothes and Homburg hat, and turned away to spit upon the +floor. A woman with a catalogue in her hand--evidently an intending +purchaser--gripped Burton by the arm. + +"I say, mister, you're the auctioneer's clerk, aren't you?" + +"I am," he admitted. + +"About that h'oil painting, now--the one of Gladstone. My old man's +fair dotty on Gladstone and it's his birthday to-morrow. If it's all +right, I thought I might make him a present. It says in the catalogue +'Artist unknown.' I suppose, as it's a real oil painting, it's worth a +bit, isn't it?" + +"It is not an oil painting at all," Burton said quietly. + +"Wot yer mean?" the woman demanded. "Here you are--lot number +17--'Interesting oil painting of the Right Honorable W. E. Gladstone, +artist unknown.'" + +Burton thrust the catalogue away from him with a sigh. + +"I am afraid," he admitted, "that the description can scarcely be said +to be entirely accurate. As a matter of fact, it is a colored +lithograph, very cleverly done but quite valueless. I dare say you +would find that there are thousands of them exactly like it." + +The woman stared at him suspiciously. + +"Why, your guvnor's just told me that the reserve upon it's two +guineas!" she exclaimed. + +"Mr. Waddington must have made a mistake," Burton replied, with a +sinking heart. + +"Look here," the woman insisted, "what is it worth, anyway?" + +"A few pence for the frame," Burton answered, hurrying off. + +The woman drew her shawl about her shoulders, threw her catalogue upon +the floor and made her way towards the door. + +"Not going to stay here to be swindled!" she declared loudly, looking +around her. "Colored lithograph, indeed, and put down in the catalogue +as an interesting oil painting! They must think us folks don't know +nothing. Cheating's the word, I say--cheating!" + +The woman's eye met the eye of Mr. Waddington as she stood for a moment +in the doorway before taking her departure. She raised her fist and +shook it. + +"Bah!" she exclaimed. "Ought to be ashamed of yourself! You and your +h'oil paintings!" + +Mr. Waddington was too far off to hear her words but the character of +her farewell was unmistakable! He glanced suspiciously towards his +chief clerk. Burton, however, had at that moment been button-holed by a +fidgety old gentleman who desired to ask him a few questions. + +"I am a little puzzled, sir," the old gentleman said, confidentially, +"about the absolute authenticity of this chippendale suite--lot number +101 in the catalogue. This sale is--er--um--advertised as being--" the +old gentleman turned over the pages of the catalogue quickly--"a sale of +the effects of the late Doctor Transome. That's so, eh?" + +"I believe the announcement is to that effect," Burton confessed, +hesitatingly. + +"Quite so," the little old gentleman continued. "Now I knew Dr. +Transome intimately, and he was, without the slightest doubt, a rare +judge of old furniture. I wouldn't mind following him anywhere, or +accepting his judgment about anything. He was very set upon not having +anything in his house that was not genuine. Now under any other +circumstances, mind you, I should have had my doubts about that suite, +but if you can assure me that it came from Dr. Transome's house, why, +there's no more to be said about it. I'm a bidder." + +Burton shook his head gravely. + +"I am sorry," he declared, "but the frontispiece of the catalogue is +certainly a little misleading. To tell you the truth, sir, there are +very few articles here from Dr. Transome's house at all. The bulk of +his effects were distributed among relatives. What we have here is a +portion of the kitchen and servant's bedroom furniture." + +"Then where on earth did all this dining-room and library furniture come +from?" the old gentleman demanded. + +Burton looked around him and back again at his questioner. There was no +evading the matter, however. + +"The great majority of it," Burton admitted, "has been sent in to us for +sale from dealers and manufacturers." + +The little old gentleman was annoyed. Instead of being grateful, as he +ought to have been, he visited his annoyance upon Burton, which was +unreasonable. + +"Deliberate swindling, sir--that's what I call it," he proclaimed, +rolling up the catalogue and striking the palm of his hand with it. +"All the way from Camberwell I've come, entirely on the strength of what +turns out to be a misrepresentation. There's the bus fare there and +back--six-pence, mind you--and a wasted morning. Who's going to +recompense me, I should like to know? I'm not made of sixpences." + +Burton's hand slipped into his pocket. The little old gentleman +sniffed. + +"You needn't insult me, young fellow," he declared. "I've a friend or +two here and I'll set about letting them know the truth." + +He was as good as his word. The woman who had departed had also found +her sympathizers. Mr. Waddington watched the departure of a little +stream of people with a puzzled frown. + +"What's the matter with them all?" he muttered. "Come here, Burton." + +Burton, who had been standing a little in the background, endeavoring to +escape further observation until the commencement of the sale, obeyed +his master's summons promptly. + +"Can't reckon things up at all," Mr. Waddington confided. "Why aren't +you round and amongst 'em, Burton, eh? You're generally such a good 'un +at rubbing it into them. Why, the only two people I've seen you talk to +this morning have left the place! What's wrong with you, man?" + +"I only wish I knew," Burton replied, fervently. + +Mr. Waddingon scratched his chin. + +"What's the meaning of those clothes, eh?" he demanded. "You've lost +your appearance, Burton--that's what you've done. Not even a silk hat +on a sale day!" + +"I'm sorry," Burton answered. "To tell you the truth, I had forgotten +that it was a sale day." + +Mr. Waddington looked curiously at his assistant, and the longer he +looked, the more convinced he became that Burton was not himself. + +"Well," he said, "I suppose you can't always be gassing if you're not +feeling on the spot. Let's start the sale before any more people leave. +Come on." + +Mr. Waddington led the way to the rostrum. Burton, with a sinking +heart, and a premonition of evil, took the place by his side. The first +few lots were put up and sold without event, but trouble came with lot +number 13. + +"Lot number 13--a magnificent oak bedroom--" the auctioneer began. "Eh? +What? What is it, Burton?" + +"Stained deal," Burton interrupted, in a pained but audible whisper. +"Stained deal bedroom suite, sir--not oak." + +Mr. Waddington seemed about to choke. He ignored the interruption, +however, and went on with his description of the lot. + +"A magnificent oak bedroom suite, complete and as good as new, been in +use for three weeks only. The deceased gentleman whose effects we are +disposing of, and who is known to have been a famous collector of +valuable furniture, told me himself that he found it at a farmhouse in +Northumberland. Look at it, ladies and gentlemen. Look at it. It'll +bear inspection. Shall we say forty-five guineas for a start?" + +Mr. Waddington paused expectantly. Burton leaned over from his place. + +"The suite is of stained deal," he said distinctly. "It has been very +cleverly treated by a new process to make it resemble old oak, but if +you examine it closely you will see that what I say is correct. I +regret that there has been an unfortunate error in the description." + +For a moment there was a tumult of voices and some laughter. Mr. +Waddington was red in the face. The veins about his temples were +swollen and the hammer in his hand showed a desire to descend on his +clerk's head. A small dealer had pulled out one of the drawers and was +examining it closely. + +"Stained deal it is, Mr. Auctioneer," he announced, standing up. "Call +a spade a spade and have done with it!" + +There was a little mingled laughter and cheers. Mr. Waddington +swallowed his anger and went on with the sale. + +"Call it what you like," he declared, indulgently. "Our clients send us +in these things with their own description and we haven't time to verify +them all--not likely. One bedroom suite, then--there you are. Now +then, Burton, you blithering idiot," he muttered savagely under his +breath, "if you can't hold your tongue I'll kick you out of your seat +Thirty pounds shall we say?" he continued, leaning forward persuasively. +"Twenty pounds, then? The price makes no difference to me, only do +let's get on." + +The suite in question was knocked down at eight pounds ten. The sale +proceeded, but bidders were few. A spirit of distrust seemed to be in +the air. Most of the lots were knocked down to dummy bidders, which +meant that they were returned to the manufacturers on the following day. +The frown on Mr. Waddington's face deepened. + +"See what you've done, you silly jackass!" he whispered to his +assistant, during a momentary pause in the proceedings. "There's +another little knot of people left. Here's old Sherwell coming in, half +drunk. Now hold your tongue if you can. I'll have him for the +dining-room suite, sure. If you interfere this time, I'll break your +head. . . . We come now, ladies and gentlemen, to the most important +lot of the day. Mr. Sherwell, sir, I am glad to see you. You're just +in time. There's a dining-room suite coming on, the only one I have to +offer, and such a suite as is very seldom on the market. One table, two +sideboards, and twelve chairs. Now, Mr. Sherwell, sir, look at the +table for yourself. You're a judge and I am willing to take your word. +Did you ever see a finer, a more magnificent piece of mahogany? There +is no deception about it. Feel it, look at it, test it in any way you +like. I tell you, ladies and gentlemen, this is a lot I have examined +myself, and if I could afford it I'd have bought it privately. I made a +bid but the executors wouldn't listen to me. Now then, ladies and +gentlemen, make me an offer for the suite." + +"Fine bit o' wood," the half-intoxicated furniture dealer pronounced, +leaning up against the table and examining it with clumsy gravity. "A +genuine bit o' stuff." + +"You're right, Mr. Sherwell," the auctioneer agreed, impressively. "It +is a unique piece of wood, sir--a unique piece of wood, ladies and +gentlemen. Now how much shall we say for the suite? Lot number +85--twelve chairs, the table you are leaning up against, two sideboards, +and butler's tray. Shall we say ninety guineas, Mr. Sherwell? Will +you start the bidding in a reasonable manner and make it a hundred?" + +"Fifty!" Mr. Sherwell declared, striking the table with his fist. "I +say fifty!" + +Mr. Waddington for a moment looked pained. He laid down the hammer and +glanced around through the audience, as though appealing for their +sympathy. Then he shrugged his shoulders. Finally, he took up his +hammer again and sighed. + +"Very well, then," he consented, in a resigned tone, "we'll start it at +fifty, then. I don't know what's the matter with every one to-day, but +I'm giving you a turn, Mr. Sherwell, and I shall knock it down quick. +Fifty guineas is bid for lot number 85. Going at fifty guineas!" + +Burton rose once more to his feet. + +"Does Mr. Sherwell understand," he asked, "that the remainder of the +suite is different entirely from the table?" + +Mr. Sherwell stared at the speaker, shifted his feet a little +unsteadily and gripped the table. + +"Certainly I don't," he replied,--"don't understand anything of the sort! +Where is the rest of the suite, young man?" + +"Just behind you, sir," Burton pointed out, "up against the wall." + +Mr. Sherwell turned and looked at a miserable collection of gimcrack +articles piled up against the wall behind him. Then he consulted the +catalogue. + +"One mahogany dining-table, two sideboards, one butler's tray, twelve +chairs. These the chairs?" he asked, lifting one up. + +"Those are the chairs, sir," Burton admitted. Mr. Sherwell, with a +gesture of contempt, replaced upon the floor the one which he had +detached from its fellows. He leaned unsteadily across the table. + +"A dirty trick, Mr. Auctioneer," he declared. "Shan't come here any +more! Shan't buy anything! Ought to be ashamed of yourself. Yah!" + +Mr. Sherwell, feeling his way carefully out, made an impressive if not +very dignified exit. Mr. Waddington gripped his clerk by the arm. + +"Burton," he hissed under his breath, "get out of this before I throw +you down! Never let me see your idiot face again! If you're at the +office when I come back, I'll kill you! I'll clerk myself. Be off with +you!" + +Burton rose quietly and departed. As he left the room, he heard Mr. +Waddington volubly explaining that no deception was intended and that +the catalogue spoke for itself. Then he passed out into the street and +drew a little breath of relief. The shackles had fallen away. He was a +free man. Messrs. Waddington & Forbes had finished with him. + + + +CHAPTER V + +BURTON'S NEW LIFE + +Burton spent the rest of the day in most delightful fashion. He took +the Tube to South Kensington Museum, where he devoted himself for +several hours to the ecstatic appreciation of a small section of its +treasures. He lunched off some fruit and tea and bread and butter out +in the gardens, wandering about afterwards among the flower-beds and +paying especial and delighted attention to the lilac trees beyond the +Memorial. Towards evening he grew depressed. The memory of Ellen, of +little Alfred, and his gingerbread villa, became almost like a nightmare +to him. And then the light came! His great resolution was formed. +With beating heart he turned to a stationer's shop, bought a sheet of +paper and an envelope, borrowed a pen and wrote: + +My DEAR ELLEN, + + +I am not coming home for a short time. As you remarked, there is +something the matter with me. I don't know what it is. Perhaps in a +few days I shall find out. I shall send your money as usual on +Saturday, and hope that you and the boy will continue well. + +From your husband, + +ALFRED BURTON. + +Burton sighed a long sigh of intense relief as he folded up and +addressed this epistle. Then he bought four stamps and sent it home. +He was a free man. He had three pounds fifteen in his pocket, a trifle +of money in the savings-bank, no situation, and a wife and son to +support. The position was serious enough, yet never for a moment could +he regard it without a new elasticity of spirit and a certain reckless +optimism, the source of which he did not in the least understand. He +was to learn before long, however, that moods and their resulting effect +upon the spirit were part of the penalty which he must pay for the +greater variety of his new life. + +He took a tiny bedroom somewhere Westminster way--a room in a large, +solemn-looking house, decayed and shabby, but still showing traces of +its former splendor. That night he saw an Ibsen play from the front row +of a deserted gallery, and afterwards, in melancholy mood, he walked +homeward along the Embankment by the moonlight. For the first time in +life he had come face to face with a condition of which he had had no +previous experience--the condition of intellectual pessimism. He was +depressed because in this new and more spontaneous world, so full of +undreamed-of beauties, so exquisitely stimulating to his new powers of +appreciation, he had found something which he did not understand. Truth +for the first time had seemed unpleasant, not only in its effects but in +itself. The problem was beyond him. Nevertheless, he pulled his bed up +to the window, from which he could catch a glimpse of the varied lights +of the city, and fell asleep. + +In the morning he decided to seek for a situation. A very reasonable +instinct led him to avoid all such houses as Messrs. Waddington & +Forbes. He made his way instead to the offices of a firm who were quite +at the top of their profession. A junior partner accorded him a +moment's interview. He was civil but to the point. + +"There is no opening whatever in this firm," he declared, "for any one +who has been in the employment of Messrs. Waddington & Forbes. Good +morning!" + +On the doorstep, Burton ran into the arms of Mr. Lynn, who recognized +him at once. + +"Say, young man," he exclaimed, holding out his hand, "I am much obliged +for that recommendation of yours to these people! I have taken a house +in Connaught Place--a real nice house it is, too. Come and see +us--number 17. The wife and daughters land to-morrow." + +"Thank you very much," Burton answered. "I am glad you are fixed up +comfortably." + +Mr. Lynn laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder. He looked at him +curiously. He was an observant person and much interested in his +fellow-creatures. + +"Kind of change in you, isn't there?" he asked, in a puzzled manner. "I +scarcely recognized you at first." + +Burton made no reply. The conventional falsehood which rose to his +lips, died away before it was uttered. + +"Look here," Mr. Lynn continued, "you take a word of advice from me. +You chuck those people, Waddington & Forbes. They're wrong 'uns--won't +do you a bit of good. Get another job. So long, and don't forget to +look us up." + +Mr. Lynn passed on his way into the office. He ran into the junior +partner, who greeted him warmly. + +"Say, do you know that young man who's just gone out?" the former +inquired. + +The junior partner shook his head. + +"Never seen him before," he replied. "He came here looking for a job." + +"Is that so?" Mr. Lynn asked with interest. "Well, I hope you gave it +to him?" + +Young Mr. Miller shook his head. + +"He came from the wrong school for us," he declared. "Regular thieves, +the people he was with. By the bye, didn't they nearly let you that +death-trap of old Lady Idlemay's?" + +"Yes, and he happens to be just the young man," Mr. Lynn asserted, +removing the cigar from his mouth, "who prevented my taking it, or at +any rate having to part with a handsome deposit. I was sent down there +with him and at first he cracked it up like a real hustler. He got me +so fixed that I had practically made up my mind and was ready to sign +any reasonable agreement. Then he suddenly seemed to turn round. He +looked me straight in the face and told me about the typhoid and all of +it, explained that it wasn't the business of the firm to let houses +likely to interest me, and wound up by giving me your name and address +and recommending me to come to you." + +"You surprise me very much indeed," Mr. Miller admitted. "Under the +circumstances, it is scarcely to be wondered at that he is out of +employment. Old Waddington wouldn't have much use for a man like that." + +"I shouldn't be surprised," Mr. Lynn remarked thoughtfully, "if it was +through my affair that he got the sack. Couldn't you do something for +him, Mr. Miller--to oblige me, eh?" + +"If he calls again," Mr. Miller promised, "I will do my best." + +But Burton did not call again. He made various efforts to obtain a +situation in other directions, without the slightest result. Then he +gave it up. He became a wanderer about London, one of her children who +watched her with thoughtful eyes at all times and hours of the day and +night. He saw the pink dawn glimmer through the trees in St. James's +Park. He saw the bridges empty, the smoke-stained buildings deserted by +their inhabitants, with St. Paul's in the background like a sentinel +watching over the sleeping world. He heard the crash and roar of life +die away and he watched like an anxious prophet while the city slept. +He looked upon the stereotyped horrors of the Embankment, vitalized and +actual to him now in the light of his new understanding. He wandered +with the first gleam of light among the flower-beds of the Park, +sniffing with joy at the late hyacinths, revelling in the cool, sweet +softness of the unpolluted air. Then he listened to the awakening, to +the birth of the day. He heard it from the bridges, from London Bridge +and Westminster Bridge, over which thundered the great vans fresh from +the country, on their way to Covent Garden. He stood in front of the +Mansion House and watched the thin, black stream of the earliest corners +grow into a surging, black-coated torrent. There were things which made +him sorry and there were things which made him glad. On the whole, +however, his isolated contemplation of what for so long he had taken as +a matter of course depressed him. Life was unutterably and intensely +selfish. Every little unit in that seething mass was so entirely, so +strangely self-centered. None of them had any real love or friendliness +for the millions who toiled around them, no one seemed to have time to +take his eyes from his own work and his own interests. Burton became +more and more depressed as the days passed. Then he closed his eyes and +tried an antidote. He abandoned this study of his fellow-creatures and +plunged once more into the museums, sated himself with the eternal +beauties, and came out to resume his place amid the tumultuous throng +with rested nerves and a beatific smile upon his lips. It mattered so +little, his welfare of to-day or to-morrow--whether he went hungry or +satisfied to bed! The other things were in his heart. He saw the +truth. + +One day he met his late employer. Mr. Waddington was not, in his way, +an ill-natured man, and he stopped short upon the pavement. Burton's +new suit was not wearing well. It showed signs of exposure to the +weather. The young man himself was thin and pale. It was not for Mr. +Waddington to appreciate the soft brilliance of his eyes, the altered +curves of his lips. From his intensely practical point of view, his +late employee was certainly in low water. + +"Hullo, Burton!" he exclaimed, coming to a standstill and taking the +pipe from his mouth. + +"How do you do, sir?" Burton replied, civilly. + +Getting on all right, eh? + +"Very nicely indeed, thank you, sir." + +Mr. Waddington grunted. + +"Hm! You don't look like it! Got a job yet?" + +"No, sir." + +"Then how the devil can you be getting on at all?" Mr. Waddington +inquired. + +Burton smiled quite pleasantly. + +"It does seem queer, sir," he admitted. "I said that I was getting on +all right because I am contented and happy. That is the chief thing +after all, isn't it?" + +Mr. Waddington opened his mouth and closed it again. + +"I wish I could make out what the devil it was that happened to you," he +said. "Why, you used to be as smart as they make 'em, a regular nipper +after business. I expected you'd be after me for a partnership before +long, and I expect I'd have had to give it you. And then you went clean +dotty. I shall never forget that day at the sale, when you began +telling people everything it wasn't good for them to know." + +"You mean that it wasn't good for us for them to know," Burton corrected +gently. + +Mr. Waddington laughed. He had a large amount of easy good-humor and +he was always ready to laugh. + +"You haven't lost your wits, I see," he declared. "What was it? Did +you by any chance get religion, Burton?" + +The young man shook his head. + +"Not particularly, sir," he replied. "By the bye, you owe me four days' +money. Would it be quite convenient--?" + +"You shall have it," Mr. Waddington declared, thrusting his hand into +his trousers pocket. "I can't afford it, for things are going badly +with me. Here it is, though. Thirty-four shillings--that's near +enough. Anything else?" + +"There is one other thing," Burton said slowly. "It is rather a +coincidence, sir, that we should have met just here. I see that you +have been into Idlemay House. I wonder whether you would lend me the +keys? I will return them to the office, with pleasure, but I should +very much like to go in myself for a few minutes." + +Mr. Waddington stared at his late employee, thoroughly puzzled. + +"If you aren't a caution!" he exclaimed. "What the mischief do you want +to go in there for?" + +Burton smiled. + +"I should like to see if that little room where the old Egyptian died +has been disturbed since I was there, sir." + +Mr. Waddington hesitated. Then he turned and led the way. + +"I'd forgotten all about that," he said. "Come along, I'll go in with +you." + +They crossed the road, ascended the steps, and in a few minutes they +were inside the house. The place smelt very musty and uninhabited. +Burton delicately avoided the subject of its being still unlet. The +little chamber on the right of the hall was as dark as ever. Burton +felt his heart beat quickly as a little waft of familiar perfume swept +out to him at the opening of the door. Mr. Waddington struck a match +and held it over his head. + +"So this is the room," he remarked. "Dashed if I've ever been in it! +It wants cleaning out and fumigating badly. What's this?" + +He picked up the sheet of paper, which was lying exactly as Burton had +left it. Then he lifted up the little dwarf tree and looked at it. + + +"It is finished. The nineteenth generation has triumphed. He who shall +eat of the brown fruit of this tree, shall see the things of Life and +Death as they are. He who shall eat--" + + +"Well, I'm d--d!" he muttered. "What's it all mean, anyway?" + +"Try a brown bean," Burton suggested softly. "They aren't half bad." + +"Very likely poison," Mr. Waddington said, suspiciously. + +Burton said nothing for a moment. He had taken up the sheet of paper +and was gazing at the untranslated portion. + +"I wonder," he murmured, "if there is any one who could tell us what the +other part of it means?" + +"The d--d thing smells all right," Mr. Waddington declared. "Here +goes!" + +He broke off a brown bean and swallowed it. Burton turned round just in +time to see the deed. For a moment he stood aghast. Then very slowly +he tiptoed his way from the door and hurried stealthily from the house. +From some bills which he had been studying half an hour ago he +remembered that Mr. Waddington was due, later in the morning, to +conduct a sale of "antique" furniture! + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A MEETING WITH ELLEN + +The clearness of vision which enabled Alfred Burton now to live in and +appreciate a new and marvelous world, failed, however, to keep him from +feeling, occasionally, exceedingly hungry. He lived on very little, but +the weekly amount must always be sent to Garden Green. There came a +time when he broke in upon the last five pound note of his savings. He +realized the position without any actual misgivings. He denied himself +regretfully a tiny mezzotint of the Raphael "Madonna," which he coveted +for his mantelpiece. He also denied himself dinner for several +evenings. When fortune knocked at his door he was, in fact, +extraordinarily hungry. He still had faith, notwithstanding his +difficulties, and no symptoms of dejection. He was perfectly well aware +that this need for food was, after all, one of the most unimportant +affairs in the world, although he was forced sometimes to admit to +himself that he found it none the less surprisingly unpleasant. Chance, +however, handed over to him a shilling discovered upon the curb, and a +high-class evening paper left upon a seat in the Park. He had no sooner +eaten and drunk with the former than he opened the latter. There was an +article on the front page entitled "London Awake." He read it line by +line and laughed. It was all so ridiculously simple. He hurried back +to his rooms and wrote a much better one on "London Asleep." He was +master of his subject. He wrote of what he had seen with effortless and +sublime verity. Why not? Simply with the aid of pen and ink he +transferred from the cells of his memory into actual phrases the silent +panorama which he had seen with his own eyes. That one matchless hour +before the dawn was entirely his. Throughout its sixty minutes he had +watched and waited with every sense quivering. He had watched and heard +that first breath of dawn come stealing into life. It was child's play +to him. He knew nothing about editors, but he walked into the office of +the newspaper which he had picked up, and explained his mission. + +"We are not looking for new contributors at present," he was told a +little curtly. "What paper have you been on?" + +"I have never written anything before in my life," Burton confessed, +"but this is much better than 'London Awake,' which you published a few +evenings ago." + +The sub-editor of that newspaper looked at him with kindly contempt. + +"'London Awake' was written for us by Rupert Mendosa. We don't get +beginner's stuff like that. I don't think it will be the least use, but +I'll look at your article if you like--quick!" + +Burton handed over his copy with calm confidence. It was shockingly +written on odd pieces of paper, pinned together anyhow--an untidy and +extraordinary-looking production. The sub-editor very nearly threw it +contemptuously back. Instead he glanced at it, frowned, read a little +more, and went on reading. When he had finished, he looked at this +strange, thin young man with the pallid cheeks and deep-set eyes, in +something like awe. + +"You wrote this yourself?" he asked. + +"Certainly, sir," Burton answered. "If it is really worth putting in +your paper and paying for, you can have plenty more." + +"But why did you write it?" the editor persisted. "Where did you get +the idea from?" + +Burton looked at him in mild-eyed wonder. + +"It is just what I see as I pass along," he explained. + +The sub-editor was an ambitious literary man himself and he looked +steadfastly away from his visitor, out of the window, his eyes full of +regret, his teeth clenched almost in anger. Just what he saw as he +passed along! What he saw--this common-looking, half-educated little +person, with only the burning eyes and sensitive mouth to redeem him +from utter insignificance! Truly this was a strange finger which opened +the eyes of some and kept sealed the eyelids of others! For fifteen +years this very cultivated gentleman who sat in the sub-editor's chair +and drew his two thousand a year, had driven his pen along the scholarly +way, and all that he had written, beside this untidy-looking document, +had not in it a single germ of the things that count. + +"Well?" Burton asked, with ill-concealed eagerness. + +The sub-editor was, after all, a man. He set his teeth and came back to +the present. + +"My readers will, I am sure, find your little article quite +interesting," he said calmly. "We shall be glad to accept it, and +anything else you may send us in the same vein. You have an +extraordinary gift for description." + +Burton drew a long sigh of relief. + +"Thank you," he said. "How much shall you pay me for it?" + +The sub-editor estimated the length of the production. It was not an +easy matter, owing to the odd scraps of paper upon which it was written. + +"Will ten guineas be satisfactory?" he inquired. + +"Very satisfactory indeed," Burton replied, "and I should like it now, +at once, please. I need some money to send to my wife." + +The sub-editor rang for the cashier. + +"So you are married," he remarked. "You seem quite young." + +"I am married," Burton admitted. "I am not living with my wife just now +because we see things differently. I have also a little boy. They live +down at Garden Green and I send them money every Saturday." + +"What do you do? What is your occupation?" + +"I just wander about," Burton explained. "I used to be an auctioneer's +clerk, but I lost my situation and I couldn't get another." + +"What made you think of writing?" the sub-editor asked, leaning a little +over towards his new contributor. + +"I picked up a copy of your newspaper on a seat in the Park," Burton +replied. "I saw that article on 'London Awake.' I thought if that sort +of thing was worth printing, it was worth paying for, so I tried to do +something like it. It is so easy to write just what you see," he +concluded, apologetically. + +The sub-editor handed him his ten guineas. + +"When will you bring me some more work?" + +"Whenever you like," Burton replied promptly. "What about?" + +The sub-editor shook his head. + +"You had better choose your own subjects." + +"Covent Garden at half-past three?" Burton suggested, a little +diffidently. "I can't describe it properly. I can only just put down +what I see going on there, but it might be interesting." + +"Covent Garden will do very well indeed," the sub-editor told him. "You +needn't bother about the description. Just do as you say; put +down--what you see." + +Burton put down just what he saw as he moved about the city, for ten +days following, and without a word of criticism the sub-editor paid him +ten guineas a time and encouraged him to come again. Burton, however, +decided upon a few days' rest. Not that the work was any trouble to +him; on the contrary it was all too ridiculously easy. It seemed to him +the most amazing thing that a description in plain words of what any one +might stand and look at, should be called literature. And yet some +times, in his more thoughtful moments, he dimly understood. He +remembered that between him and the multitudes of his fellow-creatures +there was a difference. Everything he saw, he saw through the clear +white light. There were no mists to cloud his vision, there was no halo +of idealism hovering around the objects upon which his eyes rested. It +was the truth he saw, and nothing beyond it. He compared his own work +with work of a similar character written by well-known men, and his +understanding became more complete. He found in their work a touch of +personality, a shade of self-consciousness about the description of even +the most ordinary things. The individuality of the writer and his +subject were always blended. In his own work, subject alone counted. +He had never learned any of the tricks of writing. His prose consisted +of the simple use of simple words. His mind was empty of all +inheritance of acquired knowledge. He had no preconceived ideals, +towards the realizations of which he should bend the things he saw. He +was simply a prophet of absolute truth. If he had found in those days a +literary godfather, he would, without doubt, have been presented to the +world as a genius. + +Then, with money in his pocket, clad once more in decent apparel, he +made one more effort to do his duty. He sent for Ellen and little +Alfred to come up and see him. He sent them a little extra money, and +he wrote as kindly as possible. He wanted to do the right thing; he was +even anxious about it. He determined that he would do his very best to +bridge over that yawning gulf. The gingerbread villa he absolutely +could not face, so he met them at the Leicester Square Tube. + +The moment they arrived, his heart sank. They stepped out of the lift +and looked around them. Ellen's hat seemed larger than ever, and was +ornate with violent-colored flowers. Her face was hidden behind a +violet veil, and she wore a white feather boa, fragments of which +reposed upon the lift man's shoulder and little Alfred's knickerbockers. +Her dress was of black velveteen, fitting a little tightly over her +corsets, and showing several imperfectly removed stains and creases. +She wore tan shoes, one of which was down at the heel, and +primrose-colored gloves. Alfred wore his usual black Sunday suit, a +lace collar around his neck about a foot wide, a straw hat on the ribbon +of which was printed the name of one of His Majesty's battleships, and a +curl plastered upon his forehead very much in the style of Burton +himself in earlier days. Directly he saw his father, he put his finger +in his mouth and seemed inclined to howl. Ellen raised her veil and +pushed him forward. + +"Run to daddy," she ordered, sharply. "Do as you're told, or I'll box +your ears." + +The child made an unwilling approach. Ellen herself advanced, holding +her skirts genteelly clutched in her left hand, her eyes fixed upon her +husband, her expression a mixture of defiance and appeal. Burton +welcomed them both calmly. His tongue failed him, however, when he +tried to embark upon the most ordinary form of greeting. Their +appearance gave him again a most unpleasant shock, a fact which he found +it extremely difficult to conceal. + +"Well, can't you say you're glad to see us?" Ellen demanded, +belligerently. + +"If I had not wished to see you," he replied, tactfully, "I should not +have asked you to come." + +"Kiss your father," Ellen ordered, twisting the arm of her offspring. +"Kiss him at once, then, and stop whimpering." + +The salute, which seemed to afford no one any particular satisfaction, +was carried out in perfunctory fashion. Burton, secretly wiping his +lips--he hated peppermint--turned towards Piccadilly. + +"We will have some tea," he suggested,--"Lyons', if you like. There is +music there. I am glad that you are both well." + +"Considering," Ellen declared, "that you haven't set eyes on us for Lord +knows how long--well, you need to be glad. Upon my word!" + +She was regarding her husband in a puzzled manner. Burton was quietly +but well dressed. His apparel was not such as Ellen would have thought +of choosing for him, but in a dim sort of way she recognized its +qualities. She recognized, too, something new about him which, although +she vigorously rebelled against it, still impressed her with a sense of +superiority. + +"Alfred Burton," she continued, impressively, "for the dear land's sake, +what's come over you? Mrs. Johnson was around last week and told me +you'd lost your job at Waddington's months ago. And here you are, all +in new clothes, and not a word about coming back or anything. Am I your +wife or not? What do you mean by it? Have you gone off your head, or +what have we done--me and little Alfred?" + +"We will talk at tea-time," Burton said, uneasily. + +Ellen set her lips grimly and the little party hastened on. Burton +ordered an extravagant tea, in which Ellen declined to take the +slightest interest. Alfred alone ate stolidly and with every appearance +of complete satisfaction. Burton had chosen a place as near the band as +possible, with a view to rendering conversation more or less difficult. +Ellen, however, had a voice which was superior to bands. Alfred, with +his mouth continually filled with bun, appeared fascinated by the cornet +player, from whom he seldom removed his eyes. + +"What I want to know, Alfred Burton, is first how long this tomfoolery +is to last, and secondly what it all means?" Ellen began, with her +elbows upon the table and a reckless disregard of neighbors. "Haven't +we lived for ten years, husband and wife, at Clematis Villa, and you as +happy and satisfied with his home as a man could be? And now, all of a +sudden, comes this piece of business. Have you gone off your head? +Here are all the neighbors just wild with curiosity, and I knowing no +more what to say to them than the man in the moon." + +"Is there any necessity to say anything to them?" Burton asked, a little +vaguely. + +Ellen shook in her chair. A sham tortoise-shell hairpin dropped from +her untidy hair on to the floor with a little clatter. Her veil parted +at the top from her hat. Little Alfred, terrified by an angry frown +from the cornet player, was hastily returning fragments of partially +consumed bun to his plate. The air of the place was hot and +uncomfortable. Burton for a moment half closed his eyes. His whole +being was in passionate revolt. + +"Any necessity?" Ellen repeated, half hysterically. "Alfred Burton, +let's have done with this shilly-shallying! After coming home regularly +to your meals for six years, do you suppose you can disappear and not +have people curious? Do you suppose you can leave your wife and son and +not a word said or a question asked? What I want to know is this--are +you coming home to Clematis Villa or are you not?" + +"At present I am not," Burton declared, gently but very firmly indeed. + +"Is it true that you've got the sack from Mr. Waddington?" + +"Perfectly," he admitted. "I have found some other work, though." + +She leaned forward so that one of those dyed feathers to which he +objected so strongly brushed his cheek. + +"Have you touched the money in the Savings Bank?" she demanded. + +"I have drawn out every penny of it to send you week by week," he +replied, "but I am in a position now to replace it. You can do it +yourself, in your own name, if you like. Here it is." + +He produced a little roll of notes and handed them to her. She took +them with shaking fingers. She was beginning to lose some of her +courage. The sight of the money impressed her. + +"Alfred Burton," she said, "why don't you drop all this foolishness? +Come home with us this afternoon." + +She leaned across the table, on which she had once more plumped her +elbows. She looked at him in a way he had once found fascinating--her +chin thrown forward, her cheeks supported by her knuckles. Little +specks of her boa fell into her untouched teacup. + +"Come home with Alfred and me," she begged, with half-ashamed +earnestness. "It's band night and we might ask the Johnsons in to +supper. I've got a nice steak in the house, been hanging, and Mrs. +Cross could come in and cook it while we are out. Mr. Johnson would +sing to us afterwards, and there's your banjo. You do play it so well, +Alfred. You used to like band nights--to look forward to them all the +week. Come, now!" + +The man's whole being was in a state of revolt. It was an amazing thing +indeed, this which had come to him. No wonder Ellen was puzzled! She +had right on her side, and more than right. It was perfectly true that +he had been accustomed to look forward to band nights. It was true that +he used to like to have a neighbor in to supper afterwards, and play the +fool with the banjo and crack silly jokes; talk shop with Johnson, who +was an auctioneer's clerk himself; smoke atrocious cigars and make worse +puns. And now! He looked at her almost pitifully. + +"I--I can't manage it just yet," he said, hurriedly. "I'll write--or +see you again soon. Ellen, I'm sorry," he wound up, "but just at +present I can't change anything." + +So Burton paid the bill and the tea-party was over. He saw them off as +far as the lift in Leicester Square Station, but Ellen never looked at +him again. He had a shrewd suspicion that underneath her veil she was +weeping. She refused to say good-bye and kept tight hold of Alfred's +hand. When they had gone, he passed out of the station and stood upon +the pavement of Piccadilly Circus. Side by side with a sense of +immeasurable relief, an odd kind of pain was gripping his heart. +Something that had belonged to him had been wrenched away. A wave of +meretricious sentiment, false yet with a curious base of naturalness, +swept in upon him for a moment and tugged at his heart-strings. She had +been his woman; the little boy with the sticky mouth was child of his. +The bald humanity of his affections for them joined forces for a moment +with the simple greatness of his new capacity. Dimly he realized that +somewhere behind all these things lurked a truth greater than any he had +as yet found. Then, with an almost incredible swiftness, this new +emotion began to fade away. His brain began to work, his new +fastidiousness asserted itself. A wave of cheap perfume assailed his +nostrils. The untidy pretentiousness of her ill-chosen clothes, the +unreality of her manner and carriage, the sheer vulgarity of her choice +of words and phrases--these things seized him as a nightmare. Like a +man who rushes to a cafe for a drink in a moment of exhaustion, he +hastened along towards the National Gallery. His nerves were all +quivering. An opalescent light in the sky above Charing Cross soothed +him for a moment. A glimpse into a famous art shop was like a cool +draught of water. Then, as he walked along in more leisurely fashion, +the great idea came to him. He stopped short upon the pavement. Here +was the solution to all his troubles: a bean for Ellen; another, or +perhaps half of one, for little Alfred! He could not go back to their +world; he would bring them into his! + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE TRUTHFUL AUCTIONEER + +At a little before ten on the following morning, Burton stood upon the +pavement outside, looking with some amazement at the house in Wenslow +Square. The notices "To Let" had all been torn down. A small army of +paper-hangers and white-washers were at work. A man was busy fastening +flower boxes in the lower windows. On all hands were suggestions of +impending occupation. Burton mounted the steps doubtfully and stood in +the hall, underneath a whitewasher's plank. The door of the familiar +little room stood open before him. He peered eagerly in. It was swept +bare and completely empty. All traces of its former mysterious occupant +were gone. + +"Is this house let?" he inquired of a man who was deliberately stirring +a pail of shiny whitewash. + +The plasterer nodded. + +"Seems so," he admitted. "It's been empty long enough." + +Burton looked around him a little vaguely. + +"You all seem very busy," he remarked. + +"Some bloke from the country's taken the 'ouse," the man grumbled, "and +wants to move in before the blooming paint's dry. Nobody can't do +impossibilities, mister," he continued, "leaving out the Unions, which +can't bear to see us over-exert ourselves. They've always got a +particular eye on me, knowing I'm a bit too rapid for most of them when +I start." + +"Give yourself a rest for a moment," Burton begged. "Tell me, what's +become of the rugs and oddments of furniture from that little room +opposite?" + +The man produced a pipe, contemplated it for a moment thoughtfully, and +squeezed down a portion of blackened tobacco with his thumb. + +"Poor smoking," he complained. "Got such a family I can't afford more +than one ounce a week. Nothing but dust here." + +"I haven't any tobacco with me," Burton regretted, "but I'll stand a +couple of ounces, with pleasure," he added, producing a shilling. + +The man pocketed the coin without undue exhilaration, struck a vilely +smelling match, and lit the fragment of filth at the bottom of his pipe. + +"About those oddments of furniture?" Burton reminded him. + +"Stolen," the man asserted gloomily,--"stolen under our very eyes, as +it were. Some one must have nipped in just as you did this morning, and +whisked them off. Easy done with a covered truck outside and us so +wrapped up in our work, so to speak." + +"When was this?" Burton demanded, eagerly. + +"Day afore yesterday." + +"Does Mr. Waddington know about it?" + +The man removed his pipe from his teeth and gazed intently at his +questioner. + +"Is this Mr. Waddington you're a-speaking of a red-faced +gentleman--kind of auctioneer or agent? Looks as though he could shift +a drop?" + +Burton recognized the description. + +"That," he assented, "is Mr. Waddington." + +The workman replaced the pipe in the corner of his mouth and nodded +deliberately. + +"He knows right enough, he does. Came down here yesterday afternoon +with a friend. Seemed, from what I could hear, to want to give him +something to eat out of that room. I put him down as dotty, but my! +you should have heard him when he found out that the stuff had been +lifted!" + +"Was he disappointed?" Burton asked. + +Words seemed to fail the plasterer. He nodded his head a great many +times and spat upon the floor. + +"That may be the word I was looking for," he admitted. "Can't say as I +should have thought of it myself. Anyway, the bloke never stopped for +close on five minutes, and old Joe--him on the ladder there--he came all +the way down and listened with his mouth open, and he don't want no +laming neither when there's things to be said. Kind of auctioneer they +said he was. Comes easy to that sort, I suppose." + +"Did he--did Mr. Waddington obtain any clue as to the whereabouts of +the missing property?" Burton asked, with some eagerness. + +"Not as I knows on," the plasterer replied, picking up his brush, "and +as to the missing property, there was nowt but a few mouldy rugs and a +flower-pot in the room. Some folks does seem able to work themselves up +into a fuss about nothing, and no mistake! Good morning, guvnor! Drop +in again some time when you're passing." + +Burton turned out of Wenslow Square and approached the offices and +salesrooms of Messrs. Waddington & Forbes with some misgiving. Bearing +in mind the peculiar nature of the business conducted by the firm, he +could only conclude that ruin, prompt and absolute, had been the +inevitable sequence of Mr. Waddington's regrettable appetite. He was +somewhat relieved to find that there were no evidences of it in the +familiar office which he entered with some diffidence. + +"Is Mr. Waddington in?" he inquired. + +A strange young man slipped from his stool and found his questioner +gazing about him in a bewildered manner. There was much, indeed, that +was surprising in his surroundings. The tattered bills had been torn +down from the walls, the dust-covered files of papers removed, the +ceilings and walls painted and papered. A general cleanliness and sense +of order had taken the place of the old medley. The young man who had +answered his inquiry was quietly dressed and not in the least like the +missing office-boy. + +"Mr. Waddington is at present conducting a sale of furniture," he +replied. "I can send a message in if your business is important." + +Burton, who had always felt a certain amount of liking for his late +employer, was filled now with a sudden pity for him. Truth was a great +and marvelous thing, but the last person who had need of it was surely +an auctioneer engaged in the sale of sham articles of every description! +It was putting the man in an unfair position. A vague sense of loyalty +towards his late chief prompted Burton's next action. If help were +possible, Mr. Waddington should have it. + +"Thank you," he said, "I will step into the sales-room myself. I know +the way." + +Burton pushed open the doors and entered the room. To his surprise, the +place was packed. There was the usual crowd of buyers and many strange +faces; the usual stacks of furniture of the usual quality, and other +lots less familiar. Mr. Waddington stood in his accustomed place but +not in his accustomed attitude. The change in him was obvious but in a +sense pathetic. He was quietly dressed, and his manner denoted a new +nervousness, not to say embarrassment. Drops of perspiration stood upon +his forehead. The strident note had gone from his voice. He spoke +clearly enough, but more softly, and without the familiar roll. + +"Gentlemen--ladies and gentlemen," he was saying as Burton entered, "the +next item on the catalogue is number 17, described as an oak chest, said +to have come from Winchester Cathedral and to be a genuine antique." + +Mr. Waddington leaned forward from his rostrum. His tone became more +earnest. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he continued, "I am bound to sell as per +catalogue, and the chest in question is described exactly as it was sent +in to us, but I do not myself for a moment believe either that it came +from Winchester or that it is in any way antique. Examine it for +yourselves--pray examine it thoroughly before you bid. My impression is +that it is a common oak chest, treated by the modern huckster whose +business it is to make new things look like old. I have told you my +opinion, ladies and gentlemen. At what shall we start the bidding? It +is a useful article, anyhow, and might pass for an antique if any one +here really cares to deceive his friends. At any rate, there is no +doubt that it is--er--a chest, and that it will--er--hold things. How +much shall we say for it?" + +There was a little flutter of conversation. People elbowed one another +furiously in their desire to examine the chest. A dark, corpulent man, +with curly black hair and an unmistakable nose, looked at the auctioneer +in a puzzled manner. + +"Thay, Waddington, old man, what'th the game, eh? What have you got up +your sleeve that you don't want to thell the stuff? Blow me if I can +tumble to it!" + +"There is no game at all," Mr. Waddington replied firmly. "I can +assure you, Mr. Absolom, and all of you, ladies and gentlemen, that I +have simply told you what I believe to be the absolute truth. It is my +business to sell whatever is sent to me here for that purpose, but it is +not my business or intention to deceive you in any way, if I can help +it." + +Mr. Absolom re-examined the oak chest with a puzzled expression. Then +he strolled away and joined a little knot of brokers who were busy +discussing matters. The various remarks which passed from one to +another indicated sufficiently their perplexed condition of mind. + +"The old man's dotty!" + +"Not he! There's a game on somewhere!" + +"He wants to buy in some of the truck!" + +"Old Waddy knows what he's doing!" + +Mr. Absolom listened for a while and then returned to the rostrum. + +"Mr. Waddington," he asked, "ith it the truth that there are one or two +pieces of real good stuff here, thent in by an old farmer in Kent?" + +"Quite true," Mr. Waddington declared, eagerly. "Unfortunately, they +all came in together and were included with other articles which have +not the same antecedents. You may be able to pick out which they are. +I can't. Although I am supposed to be in the business, I never could +tell the difference myself." + +There was a chorus of guffaws. Mr. Waddington mopped his forehead with +a handkerchief. + +"It is absolutely true, gentlemen," he pleaded. "I have always posed as +a judge but I know very little about it. As a matter of fact I have had +scarcely any experience in real antique furniture. We must get on, +gentlemen. What shall we say for lot number 17? Will any one start the +bidding at one sovereign?" + +"Two!" Mr. Absolom offered. "More than it'th worth, perhaps, but I'll +rithk it." + +"It is certainly more than it's worth," Mr. Waddington admitted, +dolefully. "However, if you have the money to throw away--two pounds, +then." + +Mr. Waddington raised his hammer to knock the chest down, but was met +with a storm from all quarters of the room. + +"Two-ten!" + +"Three!" + +"Three-ten!" + +"Four!" + +"Four-ten!" + +"Five!" + +"Six pounds!" + +"Seven!" + +"Seven-ten!" + +"Ten pounds!" + +Mr. Absolom, who so far had held his own, hesitated at the last bid. A +gray-haired old gentleman looked around him fiercely. The gentleman was +seemingly opulent and Mr. Absolom withdrew with a sigh. Mr. +Waddington eyed the prospective buyer sorrowfully. + +"You are quite sure that you mean it, sir?" he asked. "The chest is not +worth the money, you know." + +"You attend to your business and I'll attend to mine!" the old gentleman +answered, savagely. "Most improper behavior, I call it, trying to buy +in your own goods in this bare-faced manner. My name is Stephen +Hammonde, and the money's in my pocket for this or anything else I care +to buy." + +Mr. Waddington raised his hammer and struck the desk in front of him. +As his clerk entered the sale, the auctioneer looked up and caught +Burton's eye. He beckoned to him eagerly. Burton came up to the +rostrum. + +"Burton," Mr. Waddington exclaimed, "I want to talk to you! You see +what's happened to me?" he went on, mopping his forehead with his +handkerchief. + +"Yes, I see! + +"It's that d--d bean!" Mr. Waddington declared. "But look here, +Burton, can you tell me what's happened to the other people?" + +"I cannot," Burton confessed. "I am beginning to get an idea, perhaps." + +"Stand by for a bit and watch," Mr. Waddington begged. "I must go on +with the sale now. Take a little lunch with me afterwards. Don't +desert me, Burton. We're in this together." + +Burton nodded and found a seat at a little distance from the rostrum. +From here he watched the remainder of the morning's sale. The whole +affair seemed to resolve itself into a repetition of the sale of the +chest. The auctioneer's attempts to describe correctly the wares he +offered were met with mingled suspicion and disbelief. The one or two +articles which really had the appearance of being genuine, and over +which he hesitated, fetched enormous prices, and all the time his eager +clients eyed him suspiciously. No one trusted him, and yet it was +obvious that if he had advertised a sale every day, the room would have +been packed. Burton watched the proceedings with the utmost interest. +Once or twice people who recognized him came up and asked him questions, +to which, however, he was able to return no satisfactory reply. At one +o'clock precisely, the auctioneer, with a little sigh of relief, +announced a postponement. Even after he had left the rostrum, the +people seemed unwilling to leave the place. + +"Back again this afternoon, sir?" some one called out. + +"At half-past two," the auctioneer replied, with a smothered groan. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +HESITATION + +Mr. Waddington called a taxicab. + +"I can't stand the Golden Lion any longer," he explained. "Somehow or +other, the place seems to have changed in the most extraordinary manner' +during the last week or so. Everybody drinks too much there. The +table-linen isn't clean, and the barmaids are too familiar. I've found +out a little place in Jermyn Street where I go now when I have time. +We can talk there." + +Burton nodded. He was, as a matter of fact, intensely interested. Only +a few weeks ago, his late employer had spent nearly every moment of his +time, when his services were not urgently required at the office, at the +Golden Lion, and he had been seen on more than one occasion at the +theatre and elsewhere with one or another of the golden-haired ladies +behind the bar. Mr. Waddington--fortunately, perhaps, considering his +present predicament!--was a bachelor. + +The restaurant, if small, was an excellent one, and Mr. Waddington, who +seemed already to be treated with the consideration of a regular +customer, ordered a luncheon which, simple though it was, inspired his +companion with respect. The waiter withdrew and the auctioneer and his +quondam clerk sat and looked at one another. Their eyes were full of +questions. Mr. Waddington made a bad lapse. + +"What in hell do you suppose it all means, Burton?" he demanded. "You +see, I've got it too!" + +"Obviously," Burton answered. "I am sure," he added, a little +hesitatingly, "that I congratulate you." + +Mr. Waddington at that moment looked scarcely a subject for +congratulation. A spasm, as though of pain, had suddenly passed across +his face. He clutched at the sides of his chair. + +"It's marvelous!" he murmured. "A single word like that and I suffer in +an absolutely indescribable sort of way. There seems to be something +pulling at me all the time, even when it rises to my lips." + +"I shouldn't worry about that," Burton replied. "You must get out of +the habit. It's quite easy. I expect very soon you will find all +desire to use strong language has disappeared entirely." + +Mr. Waddington was inclined to be gloomy. + +"That's all very well," he declared, "but I've my living to get." + +"You seem to be doing pretty well up to now," Burton reminded him. + +Mr. Waddington assented, but without enthusiasm. + +"It can't last, Burton," he said. "I am ashamed to say it, but all my +crowd have got so accustomed to hear me--er--exaggerate, that they +disbelieve everything I say as a matter of habit. I tell them now that +the goods I am offering are not what they should be, because I can't +help it, and they think it's because I have some deep game up my sleeve, +or because I do not want to part. I give them a week or so at the most, +Burton--no more." + +"Don't you think," Burton suggested doubtfully, "that there might be an +opening in the profession for an auctioneer who told the truth?" + +Mr. Waddington smiled sadly. + +"That's absurd, Burton," he replied, "and you know it." + +Burton considered the subject thoughtfully. + +"There must be occupations," he murmured, "where instinctive +truthfulness would be an advantage." + +"I can't think of one," Mr. Waddington answered, gloomily. "Besides, I +am too old for anything absolutely new." + +"How on earth did you succeed in letting Idlemay House?" Burton asked +suddenly. + +"Most remarkable incident," his host declared. "Reminds me of my last +two sales of antique furniture. This man--a Mr. Forrester--came to me +with his wife, very keen to take a house in that precise neighborhood. +I asked him the lowest rent to start with, and I told him that the late +owner had died of typhoid there, and that the drains had practically not +been touched since." + +"And yet he took it?" + +"Took it within twenty-four hours," Mr. Waddington continued. "He +seemed to like the way I put it to him, and instead of being scared he +went to an expert in drains, who advised him that there was only quite a +small thing wrong. He's doing up some of the rooms and moving in in a +fortnight." + +"This sounds as though there might be an opening for an honest +house-agent," Burton suggested. + +Mr. Waddington looked dubious. + +"It's never been tried. Just this once it came off, but as a regular +thing I should have no confidence in it. People like to be +gulled. They've been brought up to it. They ask for lies--that's why +the world's so full of them. Case of supply and demand, you know." + +"According to you, then," Burton remarked, a little dolefully, "it seems +as though this change in us unfits us for any sort of practical life." + +Mr. Waddington coughed. Even his cough was no longer strident. + +"That," he confessed, "has been worrying me. I find it hard to see the +matter differently. If one might venture upon a somewhat personal +question, how did you manage to discover a vocation? You seem to be +prospering," he added, glancing at his companion's neat clothes and gray +silk tie. + +"I was fortunate," Burton admitted frankly. "I discovered quite by +accident the one form in which it is possible to palm off the truth on +an unsuspecting public." + +Mr. Waddington laid down his knife and fork. He was intensely +interested. + +"Art," Burton murmured softly. + +"Art?" Mr. Waddington echoed under his breath, a little vaguely. The +questioning gleam was still in his eyes. + +"Painting, sculpture, in my case writing," Burton explained. "I read +something when I was half starving which was in a newspaper and had +obviously been paid for, and I saw at once that the only point about it +was that the man had put down what he saw instead of what he thought he +saw. I tried the same thing, and up to the present, at any rate, it +seems to go quite Well." + +"That's queer," Mr. Waddington murmured. "Do you know," he continued, +dropping his voice and looking around him anxiously, "that I've taken to +reading Ruskin? I've got a copy of 'The Seven Lamps' at the office, and +I can't keep away from it. I slip it into my drawer if any one comes +in, like an office boy reading the Police Gazette. All the time I am in +the streets I am looking at the buildings, and, Burton, this is the +extraordinary part of it, I know no more about architecture than a babe +unborn, and yet I can tell you where they're wrong, every one of them. +There are some streets I can't pass through, and I close my eyes +whenever I get near Buckingham Palace. On the other hand, I walked a +mile the other day to see a perfect arch down in South Kensington, and +there are some new maisonettes in Queen Anne Street without a single +erring line." + +Burton poured himself out a glass of wine from the bottle which his +companion had ordered. + +"Mr. Waddington," he said, "this is a queer thing that has happened to +us." + +"Not a soul would believe it," the auctioneer assented. "No one will +ever believe it. The person who declared that there was nothing new +under the sun evidently knew nothing about these beans!" + +Burton leaned across the table. + +"Mr. Waddington," he continued, "I was around at Idlemay House this +morning. I went to see what had become of the flower-pot. I found the +little room swept bare. One of the workmen told me that the things had +been stolen." + +Mr. Waddington showed some signs of embarrassment. He waited for his +companion to proceed. + +"I wanted the rest of those beans," Burton confessed. + +Mr. Waddington shook his head slowly. + +"I haven't made up my mind about them yet," he said. "Better leave them +alone." + +"You do know where they are, then?" Burton demanded breathlessly. + +The auctioneer did not deny it. + +"I had them removed," he explained "in a somewhat peculiar fashion. The +fact of it is, the new tenant is a very peculiar man and I did not dare +to ask him to give me that little tree. I simply did not dare to run +the risk. It is a painful subject with me, this, because quite +thoughtlessly I endeavored to assume the appearance of anger on +discovering the theft. The words nearly stuck in my throat and I was +obliged to lie down for an hour afterwards." + + +Burton drew a little breath of relief. + +"I wish I'd asked you about this before," he declared. "I should have +enjoyed my luncheon better." + +Mr. Waddington coughed. + +"The beans," he remarked, "are in my possession. There are only eleven +of them and I have not yet made up my mind exactly what to do with +them." + +"Mr. Waddington," Burton said impressively, "have you forgotten that I +am a married man?" + +Mr. Waddington started. + +"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed. "I had forgotten that! + +"A wife and one little boy," Burton continued. "We were living at +Garden Green in a small plastered edifice called Clematis Villa. My +wife is a vigorous woman, part of whose life has been spent in domestic +service, and part in a suburban dressmaker's establishment. She keeps +the house very clean, pins up the oleographs presented to us at +Christmas time by the grocer and the oil-man, and thinks I look genteel +in a silk hat when we walk out to hear the band in the public gardens on +Thursday evenings." + +"I can see her!" Mr. Waddington groaned. "My poor fellow!" + +"She cuts out her own clothes," Burton continued, "from patterns +presented by a ladies' penny paper. She trims her own hats with an +inheritance of feathers which, in their day have known every color of +the rainbow. She loves strong perfumes, and she is strenuous on the +subject of the primary colors. We have a table-cloth with fringed +borders for tea on Sunday afternoons. She hates flowers because they +mess up the rooms so, but she adorns our parlor with wool-work +mementoes, artificial roses under a glass case, and crockery neatly +inscribed with the name of some seaside place." + +Mr. Waddington wiped the perspiration from his forehead and produced a +small silver casket from his waistcoat pocket. + +"Stop!" he begged. "You win! I can see what you are aiming at. Here +is a bean." + +Burton waved it away. + +"Listen," he proceeded. "I have also a child--a little son. His name +is Alfred. He is called Alf, for short. His mother greases his hair +and he has a curl which comes over his forehead. I have never known him +when his hands were not both sticky and dirty--his hands and his lips. +On holidays he wears a velveteen suit with grease spots inked over, an +imitation lace collar, and a blue make-up tie." + +Mr. Waddington re-opened the silver casket. + +"It is Fate," he decided. "Here are two beans." Burton folded them up +in a piece of paper and placed them carefully in his waistcoat pocket. + +"I felt convinced," he said gratefully, "that I should not make my +appeal to you in vain. Tell me, what do you think of doing with the +rest?" + +"I am not sure," Mr. Waddington admitted, after a brief pause. "We are +confronted from the beginning with the fact that there isn't a living +soul who would believe our story. If we tried to publish it, people +would only look upon it as an inferior sort of fiction, and declare that +the idea had been used before. I thought of having one of the beans +resolved into its constituents by a scientific physician, but I doubt if +I'd get any one to treat the matter seriously. Of course," he went on, +"if there were any quantity of the beans, so that we could prove the +truth of our statements upon any one who professed to doubt them, we +might be able to put them to some practical use. At present," he +concluded, with a little sigh, "I really can't think of any." + +"When one considers," Burton remarked, "the number of people in high +positions who might have discovered these beans and profited by them, it +does rather appear as though they had been wasted upon an auctioneer and +an auctioneer's clerk who have to get their livings." + +"I entirely agree with you," Mr. Waddington assented. "I must admit +that in some respects I feel happier and life seems a much more +interesting place. Yet I can't altogether escape from certain +apprehensions as regards the future." + +"If you take my advice," Burton said firmly, "you'll continue the +business exactly as you are doing at present." + +"I have no idea of abandoning it," Mr. Waddington replied. "The +trouble is, how long will it be before it abandons me?" + +"I have a theory of my own as to that," Burton declared. "We will not +talk about it at present--simply wait and see." + +Mr. Waddington paid the bill. + +"Meanwhile," he said, "you had better get down to Garden Green as +quickly as you can. You will excuse me if I hurry off? It is almost +time to start the sale again." + +Burton followed his host into the street. The sun was shining, and a +breath of perfume from the roses in a woman's gown assailed him, as she +passed by on the threshold to enter the restaurant. He stood quite +still for a moment. He had succeeded in his object, he had acquired the +beans which were to restore to him his domestic life, and in place of +any sense of satisfaction he was conscious of an intense sense of +depression. What magic, after all, could change Ellen! He forgot for +one moment the gulf across which he had so miraculously passed. He +thought of himself as he was now, and of Ellen as she had been. The +memory of that visit to Garden Green seemed suddenly like a nightmare. +The memory of the train, underground for part of the way, with its +stuffy odors, made him shiver. The hot, dusty, unmade street, with its +hideous rows of stuccoed villas, loomed before his eyes and confirmed +his swiftly born disinclination to taking at once this final and ominous +step. Something all the time seemed to be drawing him in another +direction, the faint magic of a fragrant memory--a dream, was it--that +he had carried with him unconsciously through a wilderness of empty +days? He hesitated, and finally climbed up on to the garden seat of an +omnibus on its way to Victoria. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LAND OF ENCHANTMENT + +"I do not think," the girl with the blue eyes said, diffidently, "that I +gave you permission to sit down here." + +"I do not believe," Burton admitted, "that I asked for it. Still, +having just saved your life--" + +"Saved my life!" + +"Without a doubt," Burton insisted, firmly. She laughed in his face. +When she laughed, she was good to look upon. She had firm white teeth, +light brown hair which fell in a sort of fringe about her forehead, and +eyes which could be dreamy but were more often humorous. She was not +tall and she was inclined to be slight, but her figure was lithe, full +of beautiful spring and reach. + +"You drove away a cow!" she exclaimed. "It is only because I am rather +idiotic about cows that I happened to be afraid. I am sure that it was +a perfectly harmless animal." + +"On the contrary," he assured her seriously, "there was something in the +eye of that cow which almost inspired me with fear. Did you notice the +way it lashed its tail?" + +"Absurd!" + +"At least," he protested, "you cannot find it absurd that I prefer to +sit here with you in the shadow of your lilac trees, to trudging any +further along that dusty road?" + +"You haven't the slightest right to be here at all," she reminded him. +"I didn't even invite you to come in." + +He sighed. + +"Women have so little sense of consequence," he murmured. "When you +came in through that gate without saying good-bye, I naturally concluded +that I was expected to follow, especially as you had just pointed this +out to me as being your favorite seat." + +Again she laughed. Then she stopped suddenly and looked at him. He +really was a somewhat difficult person to place. + +"If I hadn't a very irritable parent to consider," she declared, "I +think I should ask you to tea." + +Burton looked very sad. + +"You need not have put it into my head," he objected gently. "The inn +smells so horribly of the beer that other people have drunk. Besides, I +have come such a long way--just for a glimpse of you." + +It seemed to her like a false note. She frowned. + +"That," she insisted, "is ridiculous." + +"Is it?" he murmured. "Don't you ever, when you walk in your gardens, +with only that low wall between you and the road, wonder whether any of +those who pass by may not carry away a little vision with them? It is a +beautiful setting, you know." + +"The people who pass by are few," she answered. "We are too far off the +beaten track. Only on Saturdays and holiday times there are trippers, +fearful creatures who pick the bracken, walk arm in arm, and sing songs. +Tell me why you look as though you were dreaming, my preserver?" + +"Look along the lane," he said softly. "Can't you see them--the +wagonette with the tired horse drawn up just on the common there--a +tired, dejected-looking horse, with a piece of bracken tied on to his +head to keep the flies off? There were three men, two women and a +little boy. They drank beer and ate sandwiches behind that gorse bush +there. They called one another by their Christian names, they shouted +loud personal jokes, one of the women sang. She wore a large hat with +dyed feathers. She had black, untidy-looking hair, and her face was +red. One of the men made a noise with his lips as an accompaniment. +There was the little boy, too--a pasty-faced little boy with a curl on +his forehead, who cried because he had eaten too much. One of the men +sat some distance apart from the others and stared at you--stared at you +for quite a long time." + +"I remember it perfectly," she declared. "It was last Whit-Monday. +Hateful people they were, all of them. But how did you know? I saw +nobody else pass by." + +"I was there," he whispered. + +"And I never saw you!" she exclaimed in wonder. "I remember those Bank +Holiday people, though, how abominable they were." + +"You saw me," he insisted gently. "I was the one who sat apart and +stared." + +"Of course you are talking rubbish!" she asserted, uneasily. + +He shook his head. + +"I was behind the banks--the banks of cloud, you know," he went on, a +little wistfully. "I think that that was one of the few moments in my +life when I peered out of my prison-house. I must have known what was +coming. I must have remembered afterwards--for I came here." + +She looked at him doubtfully. Her eyes were very blue and he looked +into them steadfastly. By degrees the lines at the sides of her mouth +began to quiver. + +"Why, that person was abominable!" she declared. "He stared at me as +though I were something unreal. He had taken off his coat and rolled +his shirt sleeves up. He had on bright yellow boots and a hateful +necktie. You, indeed! I would as soon believe," she concluded, "that +you had fallen, to-day from a flying-machine." + +"Let us believe that," he begged, earnestly. "Why not? Indeed, in a +sense it is true. I am cut adrift from my kind, a stroller through +life, a vagabond without any definite place or people. I am trying to +teach myself the simplest forms of philosophy. To-day the sky is so +blue and the wind blows from the west and the sun is just hot enough +to draw the perfume from the gorse and the heather. Come and walk with +me over the moors. We will race the shadows, for surely we can move +quicker than those fleecy little morsels of clouds!" + +"Certainly not," she retorted, with a firmness which was suspiciously +emphasized. "I couldn't think of walking anywhere with a person whom +I didn't know! And besides, I have to go and make tea in a few +minutes." + +He looked over her shoulder and sighed. A trim parlor maid was busy +arranging a small table under the cedar tree. + +"Tea!" he murmured. "It is unfortunate." + +"Not at all!" she replied sharply. "If you'd behave like a reasonable +person for five minutes, I might ask you to stay." + +"A little instruction?" he pleaded. "I am really quite apt. My +apparent stupidity is only misleading." + +"You may be, as you say, a vagabond and an outcast, and all that sort +of thing, but this is a conventional English home," the girl with the +blue eyes declared, "and I am a perfectly well-behaved young woman with +an absent-minded but strict parent. I could not think of asking any one +to tea of whose very name I was ignorant." + +He pointed to the afternoon paper which lay at her feet. + +"I sign myself there 'A Passer-by.' My real name is Burton. Until +lately I was an auctioneer's clerk. Now I am a drifter--what you will." + +"You wrote those impressions of St. James's Park at dawn?" she asked +eagerly. + +"I did." + +She smiled a smile of relief. + +"Of course I knew that you were a reasonable person," she pronounced. +"Why couldn't you have said so at once? Come along to tea." + +"Willingly," he replied, rising to his feet. "Is this your father +coming across the lawn?" + +She nodded. + +"He's rather a dear. Do you know anything about Assyria?" + +"Not a scrap." + +"That's a pity," she regretted. "Come. Father, this is Mr. Burton. +He is very hot and he is going to have tea with us, and he wrote those +impressions in the Piccadilly Gazette which you gave me to read. My +father is an Oriental scholar, Mr. Burton, but he is also interested in +modern things." + +Burton held out his hand. + +"I try to understand London," he said. "It is enough for me. I know +nothing about Assyria." + +Mr. Cowper was a picturesque-looking old gentleman, with kind blue eyes +and long white hair. + +"It is quite natural," he assented. "You were born in London, without a +doubt, you have lived there all your days and you write as one who sees. +I was born in a library. I saw no city till I entered college. I had +fashioned cities for myself long before then, and dwelt in them." + +The girl had taken her place at the tea-table. Burton's eyes followed +her admiringly. + +"You were brought up in the country?" he asked his host. + +"I was born in the City of Strange Imaginings," Mr. Cowper replied. "I +read and read until I had learned the real art of fancy. No one who has +ever learned it needs to look elsewhere for a dwelling house. It is the +realism of your writing which fascinates me so, Mr. Burton. I wish you +would stay here and write of my garden; the moorland, too, is +beautiful." + +"I should like to very much," said Burton. + +Mr. Cowper gazed at him in mild curiosity. + +"You are a stranger to me, Mr. Burton," he remarked. "My daughter does +not often encourage visitors. Pray tell me, how did you make her +acquaintance?" "There was a bull," he commenced,--"A cow," she +interrupted softly. + +"On the moor outside. Your daughter was a little terrified. She +accepted my escort after I had driven away the--animal." + +The old gentleman looked as though he thought it the most natural thing +in the world. + +"Dear me," he said, "how interesting! Edith, the strawberries this +afternoon are delicious. You must show Mr.--Mr. Burton our kitchen +gardens. Our south wall is famous." + +This was the whole miracle of how Alfred Burton, whose first appearance +in the neighborhood had been as an extremely objectionable tripper, was +accepted almost as one of the family in a most exclusive little +household. Edith, cool and graceful, sitting back in her wicker chair +behind the daintily laid tea-table, seemed to take it all for granted. +Mr. Cowper, after rambling on for some time, made an excuse and +departed through the French windows of his library. Afterwards, Burton +walked with his young hostess in the old-fashioned walled garden. + +She treated him with the easy informality of privileged intimacy. She +had accepted him as belonging, notwithstanding his damaging statements +as to his antecedents, and he walked by the side of his divinity without +a trace of awkwardness or nervousness. This world of Truth was indeed a +world of easy ways! . . . The garden was fragrant with perfumes; the +perfume of full-blown roses--great pink and yellow and white blossoms, +drooping in clusters from trees and bushes; of lavender from an ancient +bed; of stocks--pink and purple; of sweetbriar, growing in a hedge +beyond. They walked aimlessly about along the gravel paths and across +the deep greensward, and Burton knew no world, nor thought of any, save +the world of that garden. But the girl, when they reached the boundary, +leaned over the iron gate and her eyes were fixed northwards. It was +the old story--she sighed for life and he for beauty. The walls of her +prison-house were beautiful things, but not even the lichen and the moss +and the peaches which already hung amber and red behind the thick leaves +could ever make her wholly forget that they were, in a sense, +symbolical--the walls of her life. + +"To live here," he murmured, "must be like living in Paradise!" + +She sighed. There was a little wistful droop about her lips; her eyes +were still fixed northwards. + +"I should like," he said, "to tell you a fairy story. It is about a +wife and a little boy." + +"Whose wife?" she asked quickly. + +"Mine," he replied. + +There was a brief silence. A shadow had passed across her face. She +was very young and really very unsophisticated, and it may be that +already the idea had presented itself, however faintly, that his might +be the voice to call her into the promised land. Certain it is that +after that silence some glory seemed to have passed from the summer +evening. + +"It is a fairy story and yet it is true," he went on, almost humbly. +"Somehow, no one will believe it. Will you try?" + +"I will try," she promised. + + +Afterwards, he held the two beans in the palm of his hand and she turned +them over curiously. + +"Tell me again what your wife is like?" she asked. + +He told her the pitiless truth and then there was a long silence. As he +stood before her, a little breath of wind passed over the garden. He +came back from the world of sordid places to the land of enchantment. +There was certainly some spell upon him. He had found his way into a +garden which lay beyond the world. He was conscious all at once of a +strange mixture of spicy perfumes, a faint sense of intoxication, of +weird, delicate emotions which caught at the breath in his throat and +sent the blood dancing through his veins, warmed to a new and wonderful +music. Her blue eyes were a little dimmed, the droop of her head a +little sad. Quite close to them was a thick bed of lavender. He looked +at the beans in his hand and his eyes sought the thickest part of the +clustering mass of foliage and blossom. She had lifted her eyes now and +it seemed to him that she had divined his purpose--approved of it, even. +Her slim, white-clad body swayed towards him. She appeared to have +abandoned finally the faint aloofness of her attitude. He raised his +hand. Then she stopped him. The moment, whatever its dangers may have +been, had passed. + +"I do not know whether your story is an allegory or not," she said +softly. "It really doesn't matter, does it? You must come and see me +again--afterwards." + + + +CHAPTER X + +NO RECONCILIATION + +Burton travelled down to Garden Green on the following morning by the +Tube, which he hated, and walked along the familiar avenue with loathing +at his heart. There was no doubt about Ellen's being at home. The few +feet of back yard were full of white garments of unlovely shape, +recently washed and fluttering in the breeze. The very atmosphere was +full of soapsuds. Ellen herself opened the door to him, her skirts +pinned up around her, and a clothes-peg in her mouth. + +He greeted her with an effort at pleasantness. "Good morning, Ellen," +he said. "I am glad to find you at home. May I come in?" + +Ellen removed the clothes-peg from her mouth. + +"It's your own house, isn't it?" she replied, with a suspicious little +quiver in her tone. "I don't suppose you've forgotten your way into the +parlor. Keep well away from me or you may get some soapsuds on your +fine clothes." + +She raised her red arms above her head and flattened herself against the +wall with elaborate care. Burton, hating himself and the whole +situation, stepped into the parlor. Ellen followed him as far as the +threshold. + +"What is it you want?" she demanded, still retaining one foot in the +passage. "I'm busy. You haven't forgotten that it's Friday morning, +have you?" + +"I want to talk to you for a little while," he said, gently. "I have +something to propose which may improve our relations." + +Ellen's attitude became one of fierce contempt mingled with a slight +tremulousness. + +"Such ridiculous goings-on and ways of speaking!" she muttered. "Well, +if you've anything to say to me you'll have to wait a bit, that's all. +I've got some clothes I can't leave all in a scurry like this. I'll +send Alf in to keep you company." + +Burton sighed but accepted his fate. For a few moments he sat upon the +sofa and gazed around at the hopeless little room. Then, in due course, +the door was pushed open and Alfred appeared, his hair shiny, his cheeks +redolent of recent ablutions, more than a trifle reluctant. His +conversation was limited to a few monosyllables and a whoop of joy at +the receipt of a shilling. His efforts at escape afterwards were so +pitiful that Burton eventually let him out of the window, from which he +disappeared, running at full tilt towards a confectioner's shop. + +Presently Ellen returned. It was exceedingly manifest that her +temporary absence had not been wholly due to the exigencies of her +domestic occupation. Her skirt was unpinned, a mauve bow adorned her +throat, a scarf of some gauzy material, also mauve, floated around her +neck. She was wearing a hat with a wing, which he was guiltily +conscious of having once admired, and which she attempted, in an airy +but exceedingly unconvincing fashion, to explain. + +"Got to go up the street directly," she said, jerkily. "What is it?" + +Burton had made up his mind that the fewer words he employed, the +better. + +"Ellen," he began, "you have perhaps noticed a certain change in me +during the last few weeks?" + +Ellen's bosom began to heave and her eyes to flash. Burton hastened on. + +"You will find it hard to believe how it all occurred," he continued. +"I want you to, though, if you can. There have been many instances of +diet influencing morals, but none quite--" + +"Diet doing what?" Ellen broke in. "What's that?" Burton came very +straight to the point. + +"This change in me," he explained simply, "is merely because I have +taken something which makes it impossible for me to say or see anything +but the absolute truth. I could not tell you a falsehood if I tried. +Wherever I look, or whenever I listen, I can always see or hear truth. +I know nothing about music, yet since this thing happened it has been a +wonderful joy to me. I can tell a false note in a second, I can tell +true music from false. I know nothing about art, yet I can suddenly +feel it and all its marvels. You can understand a little, perhaps, what +this means? A whole new world, full of beautiful objects and +inspirations, has suddenly come into my life." + +Ellen stared at him blankly. + +"Have you gone dotty, Alfred?" she murmured. + +He shook his head. + +"No," he replied gently. "If anything, I am a great deal wiser than +ever I was before. Only there are penalties. It is about these +penalties that I want to talk to you." + +Ellen's arms became crooked and her knuckles were screwed into her +waist. It was an unfortunate and inherited habit of hers, which +reappeared frequently under circumstances of emotion. + +"Will you answer this one question?" she insisted. "Why has all this +made you leave your wife and home? Tell me that, will you?" + +Burton went for his last fence gallantly. + +"Because our life here is hideous," he declared, "and I can't stand it. +Our house is ugly, our furniture impossible, the neighborhood atrocious. +Your clothes are all wrong and so are Alfred's. I could not possibly +live here any longer in the way we have been living up to now." + +Ellen gave a little gasp. + +"Then what are you doing here now?" + +"I cannot come back to you," he continued. "I want you to come to me. +This is the part of my story which will sound miraculous, if not +ridiculous to you, but you will have to take my word for it. Try and +remember for a moment that there are things in life beyond the pale of +our knowledge, things which we must accept simply by faith. The change +which came to me came through eating a sort of bean, grown by an old man +who was brought home from Asia by a great scholar. These beans are +supposed to contain the germ of Truth. I have 'two here--one for you +and one for Alfred. I want you to eat them, and afterwards, what I hope +and believe is that we shall see things more the same way and come +together again." + +He produced the beans from his pocket and Ellen took a step forward. +The shortness of her breath and the glitter in her eyes should have +warned him. The greatness of his subject, however, had carried him +away. His attention was riveted upon the beans lying in the palm of his +hand. He looked at them almost reverently. + +"Are those the things?" she demanded. + +He held them out towards her. A faint pang of regret stirred his heart. +For a single second the picture of a beautiful garden glowed and faded +before his eyes. A wave of delicious perfume came and went. The +girl--slim, white-clad--looked at him a little wistfully with her sad +blue eyes. It was a mirage which passed, a mirage or some dear, +vanishing dream. + +"Take one yourself, Ellen," he directed. "Keep the other one carefully +for Alfred." + +She snatched them from his hand and before he could stop her she had +thrown them out of the open window into the street. He was, for an +instant, stricken dumb. + +"And you," she cried fiercely, "you can follow your--beans, as soon as +you choose!" + +He looked at her and realized how completely he had failed. She was +indeed stirred to the very depths of her nature, but the emotion which +possessed her was one of passionate and jealous anger. + +"Not good enough for you as we are, eh?" she cried. "You don't like our +clothes or our manners! You've got to be a fine gentleman in five +minutes, haven't you? We were good enough for you when thirty shillings +a week didn't seem enough to keep us out of debt, and I stitched my +fingers to the bone with odd bits of dressmaking. Good enough for you +then, my man, when I cooked your dinner, washed your clothes, kept your +house clean and bore your son, working to the last moment till my head +swam and my knees tottered. Truth! Truth, indeed! What is there but +truth in my life, I'd like to know? Have I ever told you a lie? Have I +ever looked at another man, or let one touch my fingers, since the day +when you put that ring on? And now--take it--and get out!" + +She wrenched her wedding ring from her finger and threw it upon the +ground between them. Her bosom was heaving; her cheeks were red and her +eyes glittering. Several wisps of her hair had been unable to stand the +excitement and were hanging down. The mauve bow had worked its way on +to one side--very nearly under her ear. There was no deceit nor any +pretence about her. She was the daughter of a washerwoman and a +greengrocer, and heredity had triumphantly asserted itself. Yet as he +backed towards the door before her fierce onslaught, Burton, for the +first time since this new thing had come, positively admired her. + +"Ellen," he protested, "you are behaving foolishly. I wanted you and +the boy to understand. I wanted you to share the things which I had +found. It was the only way we could be happy together." + +"Alfred and I will look after ourselves and our own happiness," she +declared, with a little gulp. + +"Other women have lost their husbands. I can bear it. Why don't you +go? Don't you know the way out?" + +Burton offered his hand. She frankly scoffed at him. + +"I don't understand all that rigmarole about truth," she concluded, "but +I'm no sort of a one at pretense. Outside, my man, and stay outside!" + +She slammed the door. Burton found himself in the street. +Instinctively he felt that her hasty dismissal was intended to conceal +from him the torrent of tears which were imminent. A little dazed, he +still groped his way to the spot where Ellen had thrown the beans. A +man was there with a fruit barrow, busy, apparently, rearranging his +stock. Something about his appearance struck Burton with a chill +premonition. He came to a standstill and looked at him. + +"Did you wish to buy any fruit, sir?" the man asked, in a tone unusually +subdued for one of his class. + +Burton shook his head. + +"I was just wondering what you were doing," he remarked. + +The man hesitated. + +"To tell you the truth, guvnor," he confessed, "I was mixing up my +apples and bananas a bit. You see, those at the top were all the best, +and it has been my custom to add a few from underneath there--most of +them a little going off. It was the only way," he added with a sigh, +"that one could make a profit. I have made up my mind, though, to +either throw them away or sell them separately for what they are worth, +which isn't much. I've had enough of deceiving the public. If I can't +get a living honestly with this barrow, I'll try another job." + +"Do you happen to have eaten anything just lately?" Burton asked him, +with a sinking heart. + +The man looked at his questioner, for a moment, doubtfully. + +"'Ad my breakfast at seven," he replied. "Just a bite of bread and +cheese since, with my morning beer." + +"Nothing since--not anything at all?" Burton pressed. + +"I picked up a funny-colored bean and ate it, a few minutes ago. Queer +flavor it had, too. Nothing else that I can think of." + +Burton looked at the man and down at his barrow. He glanced around at +the neighborhood in which he had to make a living. Then he groaned +softly to himself. + +"Good luck to you!" he murmured, and turned away. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE GATE INTO PARADISE + +The girl looked up from her seat wonderingly. His coming had been a +little precipitate. His appearance, too, betokened a disturbed mind. + +"There is a front door," she reminded him. "There are also bells." + +"I could not wait," he answered simply. "I saw the flutter of your gown +as I came along the lane, and I climbed the wall. All the way down I +fancied that you might be wearing blue." + +A slight air of reserve which she had carefully prepared for him, faded +away. What was the use? He was such an extraordinary person! It was +not possible to measure him by the usual standards. She was obliged to +smile. + +"You find blue--becoming?" + +"Adorable," he replied, fervently. "I have dreamed of you in blue. You +wore blue only the night before last, when I wrote my little sketch of +'The Pavements of Bond Street on a Summer Afternoon.'" + +She pointed to the journal which lay at her feet. + +"I recognized myself, of course," she declared, trying to speak +severely. "It was most improper of you." + +"It was nothing of the sort," he answered bluntly. "You came into the +picture and I could not keep you out. You were there, so you had to +stay." + +"It was much too flattering," she objected. + +Again he contradicted her. + +"I could not flatter if I tried," he assured her. "It was just you." + +She laughed softly. + +"It is so difficult to argue with you," she murmured. "All the same, I +think that it was most improper. But then everything you do is +improper. You had no right to climb over that wall, you had no right to +walk here with me the other afternoon, even though you had driven away a +tame cow. You have no right whatever to be here to-day. What about +your wife?" + +"I have been to Garden Green," he announced. "I offered her +emancipation, the same emancipation as that which I myself have +attained. She refused it absolutely. She is satisfied with Garden +Green." + +"You mean," the girl asked, "that she refuses the--the--" + +"Beans," he said. "Precisely! She did more than refuse them--she threw +them out of the window. She has no imagination. From her point of view +I suppose she behaved in a perfectly natural fashion. She told me to go +my own way and leave her alone." + +Edith sighed. + +"It is very unfortunate," she declared, "that you were not able to +convince her." + +"Is it?" he replied. "I tried my best, and when I had failed I was +glad." + +She raised her eyes for a moment but she shook her head. + +"I am afraid that it doesn't make any difference, does it? + +"Why not? It makes all the difference," he insisted. + +"My dear Mr. Burton," she expostulated, making room for him to sit down +beside her, "I cannot possibly allow you to make love to me because your +wife refuses to swallow a bean!" + +"But she threw them out of the window!" he persisted. "She understood +quite well what she was doing. Her action was entirely symbolical. She +declared for Garden Green and the vulgar life." + +For a girl who lived in an old-fashioned garden, and who seemed herself +to be part of a fairy story, Edith certainly took a practical view of +the situation. + +"I am afraid," she murmured, "that the Divorce Courts have no +jurisdiction over your case. You are therefore a married man, and +likely to continue a married man. I cannot possibly allow you to hold +my hand." + +His head swam for a moment. She was very alluring with her pale face +set in its clouds of golden hair, her faintly wrinkled forehead, her +bewitchingly regretful smile--regretful, yet in a sense provocative. + +"I am in love with you," he declared. + +"Naturally," she replied. "The question is--" She paused and looked +intently at the tip of her slipper. It was very small and very pointed +and it was quite impossible to ignore the fact that she had a remarkably +pretty foot and that she wore white silk stockings. Burton had never +known any one before who wore white silk stockings. + +"I am very much in love with you," he repeated. "I cannot help it. It +is not my fault--that is to say, it is as much your fault as it is +mine." + +The corners of her mouth twitched. + +"Is it? Well, what are you going to do about it?" + +"I am going to take you down to the orchard, through the little gate, +and across the plank into the hayfield," he announced, boldly. "I am +going to sit with you under the oak tree, where we can just catch the +view of the moor through the dip in the hills. We will lean back and +watch the clouds--those little white, fleecy, broken-off pieces--and I +will tell you fairy stories. We shall be quite alone there and perhaps +you will let me hold your hand." + +She shook her head, gently but very firmly. "Such things are +impossible." + +"Because I have a wife at Garden Green?" + +She nodded. + +"Because you have a wife, and because--I had really quite forgotten to +mention it before, but as a matter of fact I am half engaged to someone +myself." + +He went suddenly white. + +"You are not serious?" he demanded. "Perfectly," she assured him. "I +can't think how I forgot it." + +"Does he come here to see you?" Burton asked, jealously. + +"Not very often. He has to work hard." Burton leaned back in his seat. +The music of life seemed suddenly to be playing afar off--so far that he +could only dimly catch the strains. The wind, too, must have +changed--the perfume of the roses reached him no more. + +"I thought you understood," he said slowly. + +She did not speak again for several moments. Then she rose a little +abruptly to her feet. + +"You can walk as far as the hayfield with me," she said. + +They passed down the narrow garden path in single file. There had been +a storm in the night and the beds of pink and white stocks lay dashed +and drooping with a weight of glistening rain-drops. The path was +strewn with rose petals and the air seemed fuller than ever of a fresh +and delicate fragrance. At the end of the garden, a little gate led +into the orchard. Side by side they passed beneath the trees. + +"Tell me," he begged in a low tone, "about this lover of yours!" + +"There is so little to tell," she answered. "He is a member of the firm +who publish books for my father. He is quite kind to us both. He used +to come down here more often, even, than he does now, and one night he +asked my father whether he might speak to me." + +"And your father?" + +"My father was very much pleased," she continued. "We have little money +and father is not very strong. He told me that it had taken a weight +off his mind." + +"How often does he come?" Burton asked. + +"He was here last Sunday week." + +"Last Sunday week! And you call him your lover!" + +"No, I have not called him that," she reminded him gently. "He is not +that sort of man. Only I think that he is the person whom I shall +marry--some day." + +"I am sure that you were beginning to like me," he insisted. + +She turned and looked at him--at his pale, eager face with the hollow +eyes, the tremulous mouth--a curiously negative and wholly indescribable +figure, yet in some dim sense impressive through certain unspelt +suggestions of latent force. No one could have described him, in those +days, though no one with perceptions could have failed to observe much +that was unusual in his personality. + +"It is true," she admitted. "I do like you. You seem to carry some +quality with you which I do not understand. What is it, I wonder? It +is something which reminds me of your writing." + +"I think that it is truthfulness," he told her. "That is no virtue on +my part. It is sheer necessity. I am quite sure that if I had not been +obliged I should never have told you that it was I who stared at you +from the Common there, one of a hideous little band of trippers. I +should not even have told you about my wife. It is all so humiliating." + +"It was yourself which obliged yourself," she pointed out,--"I mean +that the truthfulness was part of yourself. Do you know, it has set me +thinking so often. If only people realized how attractive absolute +simplicity, absolute candor is, the world would be so much easier a +place to live in, and so much more beautiful! Life is so full of small +shams, so many imperfectly hidden little deceits. Even if you had not +told me this strange story about yourself, I think that I should still +have felt this quality about you." + +"I should like," he declared, "to have you conceive a passion for the +truth. I should like to have you feel that it was not possible to live +anyhow or anywhere else save in its light. If you really felt that it +would be like a guiding star to you through life, you would never be +able even to consider marriage with a man whom you did not love." + +"This evening," she said slowly, "he is coming down. I was thinking it +all over this afternoon. I had made up my mind to say nothing about +you. Since you came, however, I feel differently. I shall tell him +everything." + +"Perhaps," Burton suggested, hopefully, "he may be jealous." + +"It is possible," she assented. "He does not seem like that but one can +never tell." + +"He may even give you up!" + +She smiled. + +"If he did," she reminded him, "it would not make any difference." + +"I will not admit that," he declared. "I want your love--I want your +whole love. I want you to feel the same things that I feel, in the same +way. You live in two places--in a real garden and a fairy garden, the +fairy garden of my dreams. I want you to leave the real garden and let +me try and teach you how beautiful the garden of fancies may become." + +She sighed. + +"Alas!" she said, "it is because I may not come and live always in that +fairy garden that I am going to send you away." + +"Don't!" he pleaded,--"not altogether, at any rate. Life is so short, +so pitifully incomplete. We live through so many epochs and each epoch +has its own personality. It was not I who married Ellen. It was +Burton, the auctioneer's clerk. I cannot carry the burden of that +fellow's asinine mistakes upon my shoulders forever." + +"I am afraid," she murmured, "that however clever the Mr. Burton of +to-day may be, he will never be able to rid himself altogether of his +predecessor's burdens." + +They were leaning over the gate, looking into the deserted hayfield. +The quiet of evening had stolen down upon them. He drew a little nearer +to her. + +"Dear," he whispered, "there isn't really any Ellen, there isn't really +any woman in the world of my thoughts, the world in which I live, save +you." + +She was almost in his arms. She did not resist but she looked a little +pitifully into his face. "You will not--please!" she begged. + +Once more the music passed away into the clouds. It was the gate into +Paradise over which he had leaned, but the gate was locked, and as he +stood there it seemed to grow higher and higher, until he could not even +see over the top. Almost roughly he turned away. + +"Quite right," he muttered. "I must not touch the Princess of my fairy +garden. Only let us go back now, please. I cannot stay here any +longer." + +She obeyed at once. There was a queer, pathetic little droop at the +corners of her lips, and she avoided his eyes. + +"Good-bye!" he said. + +His tone was dull and spiritless. Something, for the moment, seemed to +have passed from him. He seemed, indeed, to lack both inspiration and +courage. Her fingers clung slightly to his. She was praying, even, +that he might laugh to scorn her unspoken appeal. He moved a yard away +and stood looking at her. Her heart began to beat wildly. Surely her +prayer would be granted! The light of adoration was coming back to his +eyes. + +"I cannot see the truth!" he cried hoarsely. "You belong to me--I feel +that you belong to me! You are part of the great life. I have found +you--you are mine! And yet . . . I feel I mustn't touch you. I +don't understand. Perhaps I shall come back." + +He turned and hurried off. She watched him until he was a speck upon +the road; watched him, even then, from among the shadows of the trees. +There was a lump in her throat and a misty light in her eyes. She had +forgotten everything that had seemed absurd to her in this strange +little romance. Her eyes and her arms, almost her lips, were calling +him to her. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A BOLT FROM THE BLUE + +Burton's life moved for a time among the easy places. The sub-editor of +the Piccadilly Gazette, to which he still contributed, voluntarily +increased his scale of pay and was insatiable in his demand for copy. +Burton moved into pleasant rooms in a sunny corner of an old-fashioned +square. He sent Ellen three pounds a week--all she would accept--and +save for a dull pain at his heart which seldom left him, he found much +pleasure in life. Then came the first little break in the clear sky. +Mr. Waddington came in to see him one day and Mr. Waddington was +looking distinctly worried. He was neatly and tastefully dressed, and +his demeanor had lost all its old offensiveness. His manner, too, was +immensely improved. His tone was almost gentle. Nevertheless, there +was a perplexed frown upon his forehead and an anxious look in his eyes. + +"Business all right, I hope?" Burton asked him, after he had welcomed +his late employer, installed him in an easy chair and pushed a box of +cigarettes towards him. + +"It is better than all right," Mr. Waddington replied. "It is +wonderful. We have never had such crowds at the sales, and I have taken +on four more clerks in the house-letting department." + +Burton laughed softly. The humor of the auctioneer's position appealed +to him immensely. + +"I am making money fast," Mr. Waddington admitted, without enthusiasm. +"Another year or two of this and I could retire comfortably." + +"Then what," Burton asked, "is the worry?" + +Mr. Waddington smoked vigorously for a moment. "Has it ever occurred +to you, Burton," he inquired, "to ask yourself whether this peculiar +state, in which you and I find ourselves, may be wholly permanent?" + +Burton was genuinely startled. He sat looking at his visitor like one +turned to stone. The prospect called up by that simple question was +appalling. His cigarette burned idly away between his fingers. The +shadow of fear lurked in his eyes. + +"Not permanent?" he repeated. "I never thought of that. Why do you +ask?" + +Mr. Waddington scratched his chin thoughtfully. It was not a graceful +proceeding, and Burton, with a sinking heart, remembered that this was +one of his employer's old habits. He scrutinized his visitor more +closely. Although his appearance at first sight was immaculate, there +were certain alarming symptoms to be noted. His linen collar was +certainly doing service for the second time, and Burton noticed with +dismay a slight revival of the auctioneer's taste for loud colors in his +shirt and socks. + +"It was yesterday afternoon," Mr. Waddington continued. "I was selling +an oak chest. I explained that it was not a genuine antique but that it +had certainly some claims to antiquity on account of its design. That +seemed to me to be a very fair way of putting it. Then I saw a man, who +was very keen on buying it, examining the brass handles. He looked up +at me. 'Why, the handles are genuine!' he exclaimed. 'They're real old +brass, anyway!' Now I knew quite well, Burton, that those handles, +though they were extraordinarily near the real thing, were not genuine. +I opened my mouth to tell him so, and then, Burton, do you know that I +hesitated?" + +"You didn't tell him--that they were genuine!" Burton gasped. + +Mr. Waddington shook his head. + +"No," he admitted, "I did not go so far as that. Still, it was almost +as great a shock to me. I felt a distinct impulse to tell him that they +were. A few days ago, such an idea would never have entered my head. +It would have been a sheer impossibility." + +"Anything else?" + +Mr. Waddington hesitated. He seemed to be feeling the shame of these +avowals. + +"This morning," he confessed, "I passed the door of the Golden Lion on +my way to the office. For the first time since--you know when--I felt a +desire--a faint desire but still it was there--to go in and chaff Milly +and have a pint of beer in a tankard. I didn't go, of course, but I +felt the impulse, nevertheless." + +Burton had turned very pale. + +"This," he exclaimed, "is terrible! What have you done with the rest of +the beans?" + +"I have nine," Mr. Waddington replied. "I carry them in my waistcoat +pocket. I am perfectly convinced now that there is trouble ahead, for +on my way up the stairs here I felt a strong inclination to tell you +that I had lost them, in case you should want any." + +"It would be only fair," Burton declared warmly, "to divide them." Mr. +Waddington frowned. + + +"I see no reason for that at all," he objected, feeling his waistcoat +pocket. "The beans are in my possession." + +"But if we are to revert to our former state of barbarism," Burton +urged, "let us at least do so together." + +"You are some time ahead of me," Mr. Waddington pointed out. "None of +these warnings have come to you yet. It may be something wrong with my +disposition, or the way I have swallowed my bean. Yours may be a +permanent affair." + +Burton hesitated. Then he threw himself into a chair and buried his +face in his hands. + +"My time is coming, too!" he confessed mournfully. "I am in the same +position. Even while you were speaking just now, I felt a strong desire +to deceive you, to invent some experience similar to your own." + +"Are you sure of that?" Mr. Waddington asked anxiously. + +"Quite sure!" Burton groaned. + +"Then we are both of us in it, and that's a fact," Mr. Waddington +affirmed. + +Burton looked up. + +"About those beans?" + +Mr. Waddington thought for some few moments. + +"I shall keep five and give you four," he decided. "It is treating you +very generously. I am not obliged to give you any at all, you know. I +am doing it because I am good-natured and because we are in this thing +together. If the worst happens, you can come back to your old place in +the firm. I dare say we shall pull along somehow." + +Burton shuddered from head to foot. He saw it all mapped out before +him--the miserable routine of dull, undignified work, the whole +intolerable outlook of that daily life. He covered his face with his +hands to shut out the prospect. + +"I couldn't come back!" he muttered "I couldn't!" + +"That's all very well," Mr. Waddington objected, "but if this thing +really passes off, you'll be only too glad to. I suppose I shall flirt +with Milly again, and drink beer, give up Ruskin for the Sporting Times, +wear loud clothes, tell most frightful falsehoods when I sell that +terrible furniture and buy another trotting horse to drive out on +Sundays. Oh, Lord!" + +Mr. Waddington rose slowly to his feet. He lit a cigarette, sniffed +it, and looked at it disparagingly. It was very fine Turkish tobacco +and one of Burton's extravagances. + +"I am not sure, after all," he declared, "that there isn't more flavor +in a British cigar." + +Burton shuddered + +"You had better take a bean at once," he groaned. "Those cigarettes are +made from the finest tobacco imported." + +Mr. Waddington felt in his waistcoat pocket with trembling fingers, +slowly produced a little silver box, took out a bean and crunched it +between his teeth. An expression of immense relief at once spread over +his features. He sniffed at his cigarette with an air of keen +appreciation, and deliberately handed over to Burton his share of the +remaining beans. + +"I am myself again," he declared firmly. "I can feel the change +already." + +Burton eyed him anxiously. + +"Cigarette taste all right now?" + +"Delicious!" Mr. Waddington replied. "Most exquisite tobacco! Makes +me shiver inside to think how I could ever have smoked that other filthy +rubbish." + +"No idea of calling in at the Golden Lion on your way back, eh?" Burton +persisted. + +Mr. Waddington's expression was full of reproach. "The very thought of +that place, with its smell of stale beer and those awful creatures +behind the bar, makes me shiver," he confessed. "I shall walk for an +hour before lunch in Kensington Gardens. If I have a moment to spare I +shall run into the Museum and spend a little time with the mosaics. +What a charming effect the sunlight has coming through those trees, +Burton! I want you to come down and see my rooms sometime. I have +picked up a few trifles that I think you would appreciate." + +"I will come with pleasure," Burton replied. "This afternoon, if you +could spare a few minutes?" the auctioneer suggested. "We might go +around and look at that Romney which has just been unearthed. I have +been to Christie's three times already to see it, but I should like to +take you. There's something about the face which I don't quite +understand. There is a landscape there, too, just sent up from some +country house, which I think would interest you." + +Burton shook his head and moved feverishly towards his desk. + +"I am going to work," he declared. "You have frightened me a little. I +must economize time. I shall write a novel, a novel of real life. I +must write it while I can still see the perfect truth." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +PROOF POSITIVE + +Burton did not get very far with his novel. About nine o'clock on the +same evening, Mr. Waddington, who was spending a quiet hour or two with +his books, was disturbed by a hasty knock at the door of his rooms. He +rose with some reluctance from his chair to answer the summons. + +"Burton!" he exclaimed. + +Burton came quickly in. He was paler, even, than usual, and there were +black shadows under his eyes. There was a change in his face, +indescribable but very apparent. His eyes had lost their dreamy look, +he glanced furtively about him, he had the air of a man who has +committed a crime and fears detection. His dress was not nearly so neat +as usual. Mr. Waddington, whose bachelor evening clothes--a loose +dinner-jacket and carefully tied black tie--were exactly as they should +be, glanced disparagingly at his visitor. + +"My dear Burton," he gasped, "whatever is the matter with you? You seem +all knocked over." + +Burton had thrown himself into a chair. He was contemplating the little +silver box which he had drawn from his pocket. + +"I've got to take one of these," he muttered, "that's all. When I have +eaten it, there will be three left. I took the last one exactly two +months and four days ago. At the same rate, in just eight months and +sixteen days I shall be back again in bondage." + +Mr. Waddington was very much interested. He was also a little +distressed. + +"Are you quite sure," he asked, "of your symptoms?" + +"Absolutely certain," Burton declared sadly. "I found myself this +evening trying to kiss my landlady's daughter, who is not in the least +good-looking. I was attracted by the programme of a music hall and had +hard work to keep from going there. A man asked me the way to Leicester +Square just now, and I almost directed him wrongly for the sheer +pleasure of telling a lie. I nearly bought some ties at an outfitter's +shop in the Strand--such ties! It's awful--awful, Mr. Waddington!" + +Mr. Waddingon nodded his head compassionately. + +"I suppose you know what you're talking about," he said. "You see, I +have already taken my second bean and to me the things that you have +spoken of seem altogether incredible. I could not bring myself to +believe that an absolute return to those former horrible conditions +would be possible for either you or me. By the bye," he added, with a +sudden change of tone, "I've just managed to get a photograph of the +Romney I was telling you of." + +Burton waved it away. + +"It doesn't interest me in the least," he declared gloomily. "I very +nearly bought a copy of Ally Sloper on my way down here." + +Mr. Waddington shivered. + +"I suppose there is no hope for you," he said. "It is excessively +painful for me to see you in this state. On the whole, I think that the +sooner you take the bean, the better." + +Burton suddenly sat up in his chair. + +"What are those sheets of paper you have on the table?" he asked +quickly. + +"They are the sheets of paper left with the little flower-pot in the +room of Idlemay House," Mr. Waddington answered. "I was just looking +them through and wondering what language it was they were written in. +It is curious, too, that our friend should have only translated the last +few lines." + +Burton rose from his chair and leaned over the table, looking at them +with keen interest. + +"It was about those papers that I started out to come and see you," he +declared. "There must be some way by which we could make the action of +these beans more permanent. I propose that we get the rest of the pages +translated. We may find them most valuable." + +Mr. Waddington was rather inclined to favor the idea. + +"I cannot think," he admitted, "why it never occurred to us before. +Whom do you propose to take them to?" + +"There is some one I know who lives a little way down in the country," +Burton replied. "He is a great antiquarian and Egyptologist, and if any +one can translate them, I should think he would be able to. Lend me the +sheets of manuscript just as they are, and I will take them down to him +to-morrow. It may tell us, perhaps, how to deal with the plant so that +we can get more of the beans. Eight months is no use to me. When I am +like this, just drifting back, everything seems possible. I can even +see myself back at Clematis Villa, walking with Ellen, listening to the +band, leaning over the bar of the Golden Lion. Listen!" + +He stopped short. A barrel organ outside was playing a music hall +ditty. His head kept time to the music. + +"I wish I had my banjo!" he exclaimed, impulsively. Then he shivered. +"Did you hear that? A banjo! I used to play it, you know." + +Mr. Waddington looked shocked. + +"The banjo!" he repeated. "Do you really mean that you want to play it +at the present moment?" + +"I do," Burton replied. "If I had it with me now, I should play that +tune. I should play others like it. Everything seems to be slipping +away from me. I can smell the supper cooking in my little kitchen at +Clematis Villa. Delicious! My God, I can't bear it any longer! Here +goes!" + +He took a bean from his pocket with trembling fingers and swallowed it. +Then he leaned back in his chair for several moments with closed eyes. +When he opened them again, an expression of intense relief was upon his +face. + +"I am coming back already," he declared faintly. "Thank Heavens! Mr. +Waddington, your room is charming, sir. Japanese prints, too! I had no +idea that you were interested in them. That third one is exquisite. +And what a dado!" + +"Hewlings himself designed it for me," Mr. Waddington observed, with +satisfaction. "There are several things I should like you to notice, +Burton. That lacquer-work box!" + +Burton was already holding it in his fingers and was gazing at it +lovingly. + +"It is perfect," he admitted. "What workmanship! You are indeed +fortunate, Mr. Waddington. And isn't that Mona Lisa on the walls? +What a beautiful reproduction! I am saving up money even now to go to +Paris to see the original. Only a few nights ago I was reading Pater's +appreciation of it." + +He rose and wandered around the room, making murmured comments all the +time. Presently he came back to the table and glanced down at the +sheets of manuscript. + +"Mr. Waddington," he said, "let me take these to my friend. I feel +that the last few hours must have been a sort of nightmare, and yet--" + +He drew out a little box from his waistcoat pocket and peered inside. +He was suddenly grave. + +"It was no nightmare, then," he muttered. "I have really taken a bean." + +"You took it not a quarter of an hour ago," Mr. Waddington told him. + +Burton sighed. + +"It is awful to imagine that I should have needed it," he confessed. +"There must be some way out of this. You will trust me with these +sheets, Mr. Waddington? If my friend in the country can do nothing for +us, I will take them to the British Museum." + +"By all means," Mr. Waddington replied. "Take care of them and bring +them back safely. I should like, if possible, to have a written +translation. It should indeed prove most interesting." + +Burton went out with the musky-smelling sheets in his pocket. All the +temptations of the earlier part of the evening had completely passed +away. He walked slowly because a big yellow moon hung down from the +sky, and because Mr. Waddington's rooms were in a neighborhood of leafy +squares and picturesque houses. When he came back to the more travelled +ways he ceased, however, to look about him. He took a 'bus to +Westminster and returned to his rooms. Somehow or other, the possession +of the sheets acted like a sedative. He felt a new confidence in +himself. The absurdity of any return to his former state had never been +more established. The remainder of the night he spent in the same way +as many others. He drew his writing-table up to the open window, and +with the lights of the city and the river spread out before him, and the +faint wind blowing into the room, he worked at his novel. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE LEGEND OF THE PERFECT FOOD + +A foretaste of autumn had crept into the midst of summer. There were +gray clouds in the sky, a north wind booming across the moors. Burton +even shivered as he walked down the hill to the house where she lived. +There was still gorse, still heather, still a few roses in the garden +and a glimmering vision of the beds of other flowers in the background. +But the sun which gave them life was hidden. Burton looked eagerly into +the garden and his heart sank. There was no sign there of any living +person. After a moment's hesitation, he opened the gate, passed up the +neat little path and rang the bell. It was opened after the briefest of +delays by the trim parlor-maid. + +"Is your mistress at home?" he asked. + +"Miss Edith has gone to London for two days, sir," the girl announced. +"The professor is in his study, sir." + +Burton stood quite still for a moment. It was absurd that his heart +should be so suddenly heavy, that all the spring and buoyancy should +have gone out of life! For the first time he realized the direction in +which his thoughts had been travelling since he had left his rooms an +hour ago. He had to remind himself that it was the professor whom he +had come to see. + +Mr. Cowper received him graciously, if a little vaguely. Burton wasted +no time, however, in announcing the nature of his errand. Directly he +produced the sheets, the professor became interested. The faint odor +which seemed shaken out from them into the room stimulated his +curiosity. He sniffed at it with great content. + +"Strange," he remarked, "very strange. I haven't smelt that perfume +since I was with the excavators at Chaldea. A real Oriental flavor, +young man, about your manuscript." + +"There is very little of it," Burton said,--"just a page or so which +apparently the writer never had time to finish. The sheets came into my +hands in rather a curious way, and I should very much like to have an +exact translation of them. I don't even know what the language is. I +thought, perhaps, that you might be able to help me. I will explain to +you later, if you will allow me, the exact nature of my interest in +them." + +Mr. Cowper took the pages into his hand with a benevolent smile. At +the first glance, however, his expression changed. It was obvious that +he was greatly interested. It was obvious, also, that he was +correspondingly surprised. + +"My dear young man," he exclaimed, "my dear Mr.--Mr. Burton--why, this +is wonderful! Where did you get these sheets, do you say? Are you +honestly telling me that they were written within the last thousand +years?" + +"Without a doubt," Burton replied. "They were written in London, a few +months ago." + +Mr. Cowper was already busy surrounding himself with strange-looking +volumes. His face displayed the utmost enthusiasm in his task. + +"It is most amazing, this," he declared, drawing a chair up to the +table. "These sheets are written in a language which has been dead as a +medium of actual intercourse for over two thousand years. You meet with +it sometimes in old Egyptian manuscripts. There was a monastery +somewhere near the excavations which I had the honor to conduct in +Syria, where an ancient prayer-book contained several prayers in this +language. Literally I cannot translate this for you; actually I will. +I can get at the sense--I can get at the sense quite well. But if one +could only find the man who wrote it! He is the man I should like to +see, Mr. Burton. If the pages were written so recently, where is the +writer?" + +"He is dead," Burton replied. + +Mr. Cowper sighed. + +"Well, well," he continued, starting upon his task with avidity, "we +will talk about him presently. This is indeed miraculous. I am most +grateful--deeply grateful to you--for having brought me this +manuscript." + +Mr. Cowper was busy for the next quarter of an hour. His expression, +as he turned up dictionaries and made notes, was still full of the +liveliest and most intense interest. Presently he leaned back in his +chair. He kept one hand upon the loose sheets of manuscript, while with +the other he removed his spectacles. Then he closed his eyes for a +moment. + +"My young friend," he said, "did you ever hear a quaint Asiatic +legend--scarcely a legend, perhaps, but a superstition--that many and +many a wise man, four thousand years ago, spent his nights and his days, +not as our more modern scientists of a few hundred years ago have done, +in the attempt to turn baser metals into gold, but in the attempt to +constitute from simple elements the perfect food for man?" + +Burton shook his head. He was somewhat mystified. + +"I have never heard anything of the sort," he acknowledged. + +"The whole literature of ancient Egypt and the neighboring countries," +Mr. Cowper proceeded, "abounds with mystical stories of this perfect +food. It was to come to man in the nature of a fruit. It was to give +him, not eternal life--for that was valueless--but eternal and absolute +understanding, so that nothing in life could be harmful, nothing save +objects and thoughts of beauty could present themselves to the +understanding of the fortunate person who partook of it. These pages +which you have brought to me to translate are concerned with this +superstition. The writer claims here that after centuries of research +and blending and grafting, carried on without a break by the priests of +his family, each one handing down, together with an inheritance of his +sacerdotal office, many wonderful truths respecting the growth of this +fruit,--the writer of these lines claims here, that he, the last of his +line, has succeeded in producing the one perfect food, from which +everything gross is eliminated, and whose spiritual result upon a normal +man is such as to turn him from a thing of clay into something +approaching a god." + +"Does he mention anything about beans?" Burton asked anxiously. + +Mr. Cowper nodded benignantly. + +"The perfect food referred to," he said, "appears to have been produced +in the shape of small beans. They are to be eaten with great care, and +to ensure permanency in the results, a green leaf of the little tree is +to follow the consumption of the bean." + +Burton sprang to his feet. + +"A thousand thanks, professor!" he cried. "That is the one thing we +were seeking to discover. The leaves, of course!" + +Mr. Cowper looked at his visitor in amazement. + +"My young friend," he said, "are you going to tell me that you have seen +one of these beans?" + +"Not only that but I have eaten one," Burton announced,--"in fact I +have eaten two." + +Mr. Cowper was greatly excited. + +"Where are they?" he exclaimed. "Show me one! Where is the tree? How +did the man come to write this? Where did he write it? Let me look at +one of the beans!" + +Burton produced the little silver snuff-box in which he carried them. +With his left hand he kept the professor away. + +"Mr. Cowper," he said, "I cannot let you touch them or handle them. +They mean more to me than I can tell you, yet there they are. Look at +them. And let me tell you this. That old superstition you have spoken +of has truth in it. These beans are indeed a spiritual food. They +alter character. They have the most amazing effect upon a man's moral +system." + +"Young man," Mr. Cowper insisted, "I must eat one." + +Burton shook his head. + +"Mr. Cowper," he said, "there are reasons why I find it very hard to +deny you anything, but as regards those three beans, you will neither +eat one nor even hold it in your hand. Sit down and I will tell you a +story which sounds as though it might have happened a thousand years +ago. It happened within the last three months. Listen." + +Burton told his story with absolute sincerity. The professor listened +with intense interest. It was perhaps strange that, extraordinary +though it was, he never for one moment seemed to doubt the truth of what +he heard. When Burton had finished, he rose to his feet in a state of +great excitement. + +"This is indeed wonderful," he declared. "It is more wonderful, even, +than you can know of. The legend of the perfect food appears in the +manuscripts of many centuries. It antedates literature by generations. +There is a tomb in the interior of Japan, sacred to a saint who for +seventy years worked for the production of this very bean. That, let me +tell you, was three thousand years ago. My young friend, you have +indeed been favored!" + +"Let me understand this thing," Burton said, anxiously. "Those pages +say that if one eats a green leaf after the bean, the change wrought in +one will become absolutely permanent?" + +"That is so," the professor assented. "Now all that you have to do, is +to eat a green leaf from the little tree. After that, you will have no +more need of those three beans, and you can therefore give them to me." + +Burton made no attempt to produce his little silver box. + +"First of all," he said, "I must test the truth of this. I cannot run +any risks. I must go and eat a leaf. If in three months no change has +taken place in me, I will lend you a bean to examine. I can do no more +than that. Until this matter is absolutely settled, they are worth more +than life itself to me." + +Mr. Cowper seemed annoyed. + +"Surely," he protested, "you are not going to ask me to wait three +months until I can examine one of these?" + +"Three months will soon pass," Burton replied. "Until that time is up, +I could not part with them." + +"But you can't imagine," the professor pleaded, "how marvelously +interesting this is to me. Remember that I have spent all my life +digging about among the archives and the literature and the +superstitions of these pre-Egyptian peoples. You are the first man in +the world, outside a little circle of fellow-workers, to speak to me of +this perfect food. Your story as to how it came into your hands is the +most amazing romance I have ever heard. It confirms many of my +theories. It is wonderful. Do you realize what has happened? You, +sir, you in your insignificant person," the professor continued, shaking +his finger at his visitor, "have tasted the result of thousands of years +of unceasing study. Wise men in their cells, before Athens was built, +before the Pyramids were conceived, were thinking out this matter in +strange parts of Egypt, in forgotten parts of Syria and Asia. For +generations their dream has been looked upon as a thing elusive as the +philosopher's stone, the transmutation of metals--any of these unsolved +problems. For five hundred years--since the days of a Russian scientist +who lived on the Black Sea, but whose name, for the moment, I have +forgotten--the whole subject has lain dead. It is indeed true that the +fairy tales of one generation become the science of the next. Our own +learned men have been blind. The whole chain of reasoning is so clear. +Every article of human food contains its separate particles, affecting +the moral as well as the physical system. Why should it have been +deemed necromancy to endeavor to combine these parts, to evolve by +careful elimination and change the perfect food? In the house, young +man, which you have told me of, there died the hero of the greatest +discovery which has ever been made since the world began to spin upon +its orbit." + +"Will Miss Edith be back to-morrow?" Burton asked. + +The professor stared at him. + +"Miss Edith?" he repeated. "Oh! my daughter? Is she not in?" + +"She is away for two days, your servant told me," Burton replied. + +"Perhaps so--perhaps so," the professor agreed. "She has gone to her +aunt's, very likely, in Chelsea. My sister has a house there in +Bromsgrove Terrace." + +Burton rose to his feet. He held out his hand for the manuscript. + +"I am exceedingly obliged to you," he said. "Now I must go." + +The professor gripped the manuscript in his hand. He was no longer a +harmless and benevolent old gentleman. He was like a wild animal about +to be robbed of its prey. + +"No," he cried. "You must not take these away. You must not think of +it. They are of no use to you. Leave me the sheets, just as they are. +I will go further back. There are several words at the meaning of which +I have only guessed. Leave them with me for a few days, and I will make +you an exact translation." + +"Very well," Burton assented. + +"And one bean?" the professor begged. "Leave me one bean only? I +promise not to eat it, not to dissect it, not to subject it to +experiments of any sort. Let me just have it to look at, to be sure +that what you have told me is not an hallucination." + +Burton shook his head. + +"I dare not part with one. I am going straight back to test the leaf +theory. If it is correct, I will keep my promise. And--will you +remember me to Miss Edith when she returns, professor?" + +"To Miss Edith? Yes, yes, of course," Mr. Cowper declared, +impatiently. "When shall you be down again, my young friend?" he went +on earnestly. "I want to hear more of your experiences. I want you to +tell me the whole thing over again. I should like to get a signed +statement from you. There are several points in connection with what +you say, which bear out a favorite theory of mine." + +"I will come in a few days, if I may," Burton assured him. + +The professor walked with his guest to the front door. He seemed +reluctant to let him go. + +"Take care of yourself, Mr. Burton," he enjoined. "Yours is a precious +life. On no account subject yourself to any risks. Be careful of the +crossings. Don't expose yourself to inclement weather. Keep away from +any place likely to harbor infectious disease. I should very much like +to have a meeting in London of a few of my friends, if I could ensure +your presence." + +"When I come down again," Burton promised, "we will discuss it." + +He shook hands and hurried away. In less than an hour and a half he was +in Mr. Waddington's rooms. The latter had just arrived from the +office. + +"Mr. Waddington," Burton exclaimed, "the little tree on which the beans +grew--where is it?" + +Mr. Waddington was taken aback. + +"But I picked all the beans," he replied. "There were only the leaves +left." + +"Never mind that!" Burton cried. "It is the leaves we want! The +tree--where is it? Quick! I want to feel myself absolutely safe." + +Mr. Waddington's face was blank. + +"You have heard the translation of those sheets?" + +"I have," Burton answered hastily. "I will tell you all about it +directly--as soon as you have brought me the tree." + +Mr. Waddington had turned a little pale. + +"I gave it to a child in the street, on my way home from Idlemay House," +he declared. "There was no sign of any more beans coming and I had more +than enough to carry." + +Burton sank into a chair and groaned. + +"We are lost," he exclaimed, "unless you can find that child! Our cure +is only temporary. We need a leaf each from the tree. I have only +eight months and two weeks more!" + +Mr. Waddington staggered to a seat. He produced his own beans and +counted them eagerly. + +"A little under eleven months!" he muttered. "We must find the tree!" + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE PROFESSOR INSISTS + +Crouched over his writing table, with sheets of manuscript on every side +of him, Burton worked like a slave at his novel. After a week devoted +by Mr. Waddington and himself to a fruitless search for the missing +plant, they had handed the matter over to a private detective and Burton +had settled down to make the most of the time before him. Day after day +of strange joys had dawned and passed away. He had peopled his room +with shadows. Edith had looked at him out of her wonderful eyes, he had +felt the touch of her fingers as she had knelt by his side, the glow +which had crept into his heart as he had read to her fragments of his +story and listened to her words of praise. The wall which he had built +stood firm and fast. He lived in his new days. Life was all +foreground, and hour by hour the splendid fancies came. + +It was his first great effort at composition. Those little studies of +his, as he had passed backwards and forwards through the streets and +crowded places, had counted for little. Here he was making serious +demands upon his new capacity. In a sense it was all very easy, all +very wonderful, yet sometimes dejection came. Then his head drooped +upon his folded arms, he doubted himself and his work, he told himself +that he was living in a fool's Paradise--a fool's Paradise indeed! + +One afternoon there came a timid knock at his door. He turned in his +chair a little impatiently. Then his pen slipped from his fingers. His +left hand gripped the side of the table, his right hand the arm of his +chair. It was a dream, of course! + +"I hope we do not disturb you, Mr. Burton?" the professor inquired, +with anxious amiability. "My daughter and I were in the neighborhood +and I could not resist the visit. We had some trouble at first in +finding you." + +Burton rose to his feet. He was looking past the professor, straight +into Edith's eyes. In her white muslin gown, her white hat and flowing +white veil, she seemed to him more wonderful, indeed, than any of those +cherished fancies of her which had passed through his room night and day +to the music of his thoughts. + +"I am glad," he said simply. "Of course I am glad to see you! Please +come in. It is very untidy here. I have been hard at work." + +He placed chairs for them. The professor glanced around the room with +some satisfaction. It was bare, but there was nothing discordant upon +the walls or in the furniture. There were many evidences, too, of a +scholarly and cultivated taste. Edith had glided past him to the window +and was murmuring her praises of the view. + +"I have never seen a prettier view of the river in my life," she +declared, "and I love your big window. It is almost like living out of +doors, this. And how industrious you have been!" + +She pointed to the sea of loose sheets which covered the table and the +floor. He smiled. He was beginning to recover himself. + +"I have been working very hard," he admitted. + +"But why?" she murmured. "You are young. Surely there is plenty of +time? Is it because the thoughts have come to you and you dared not +daily with them? Or is it because you are like every one else--in such +a terrible hurry to become rich and famous?" + +He shook his head. + +"It is not that," he said. "I have no thought of either. Alas!" he +added, looking into her eyes, "I lack the great incentive!" + +"Then why is it?" she whispered. + +"You must not ask our young friend too many questions," the professor +interrupted, a trifle impatiently. "Tell me, Mr. Burton, has there +been any change--er--in your condition?" + +Burton shivered for a moment. + +"None at present," he admitted. "It is scarcely due as yet." + +Mr. Cowper drew his chair a little nearer. His face betokened the +liveliest interest. Edith stood in the window for a moment and then +sank into a chair in the background. + +"With reference to your last remark," the professor went on, "it has +yet, I think, to be proved that these beans are of equal potency. You +understand me, I am sure, Mr. Burton? I mean that it does not in the +least follow that because one of them is able to keep you in an abnormal +condition for two months, the next one will keep you there for the same +period." + +Burton was frankly startled. + +"Is there anything about that in the translation, sir?" he asked. + +"There is this sentence which I will read to you," the professor +pronounced, drawing a roll of paper from his pocket and adjusting his +spectacles. "I have now a more or less correct translation of the +sheets you left with me, a copy of which is at your disposal. Here it +is:--'_The formula is now enunciated and proved. The secret which has +defied the sages of the world since the ages of twilight, has yielded +itself to me, the nineteenth seeker after the truth in one direct line. +One slight detail alone baffles me. So far as I have gone at present, +the constituent parts, containing always the same elements and +producing, therefore, the same effect, appear in variable dimensions or +potencies, for reasons which at present elude me. Of my formula there +is no longer any doubt. This substance which I have produced shall +purify and make holy the world._'" + +The professor looked up from his paper. + +"Our interesting friend," he remarked, "seems to have been interrupted at +this point, probably by the commencement of that illness which had, +unfortunately, a fatal conclusion. Yet the meaning of what he writes is +perfectly clear. This substance, consolidated, I believe, into what you +term a bean, is not equally distributed. Therefore, I take it that you +may remain in your present condition for a longer or shorter period of +time. The potency of the first--er--dose, is nothing to go by. You +have, however, already learned how to render your present condition +eternal." + +Burton sighed. + +"The knowledge came too late," he said. "The tree had disappeared. It +was given away, by the Mr. Waddington I told you of, to a child whom he +met in the street." + +"Dear me!" Mr. Cowper exclaimed gravely. "This is most disappointing. +Is there no chance of recovering it? + +"We are trying," Burton replied. "Mr. Waddington has engaged a private +detective and we are also advertising in the papers." + +"You have the beans still, at any rate," the professor remarked, +hopefully. + +"We have the beans," Burton admitted, "but it is very awkward not +knowing how long one's condition is going to last. I might go out +without my beans one day, and find myself assailed by all manner of +amazing inclinations." + +"My dear young man," the professor said earnestly, "let me point out to +you that this is a wonderful position in which you have been placed. +You ought to be most proud and grateful. Any trifling inconveniences +which may result should be, I venture to say, utterly ignored by you. +Now come, let me ask you a question. Are you feeling absolutely +your--how shall I call it--revised self to-day?" + +"Absolutely, thank Heaven!" Burton declared, fervently. + +The professor nodded his head. All the time his eyes were roving about +Burton's person, as though he were longing to make a minute study of his +anatomy. + +"It would be most interesting," he said, "to trace the commencement +of any change in your condition. I am here with a proposition, +Mr. Burton. I appeal to you in the name of science as well +as--er--hospitality. The change might come to you here while you are +alone. There would be no one to remark upon it, no one to make those +interesting and instructive notes which, in justice to the cause of +progress, should be made by some competent person such as--forgive +me--myself. I ask you, therefore, to pack up and return with us to +Leagate. You shall have a study to yourself, my daughter will be only +too pleased and proud to assist you in your work, and I have also a +young female who comes to type-write for me, whose services you can +entirely command. I trust that you will not hesitate, Mr. Burton. We +are most anxious--indeed we are most anxious, are we not, Edith?--to +have you come." + +Burton turned his head and glanced toward the girl. She had raised her +veil. Her eyes met his, met his question and evaded it. She studied +the pattern of the carpet. When she looked up again, her cheeks were +pink. + +"Mr. Burton will be very welcome," she said. + +There was a short silence in the room. The sunshine fell across the +dusty room in a long, quivering shaft. Outside, the branches of an elm +tree swinging in the wind cast a shadow across the floor. The +professor, with folded arms, sat alert and expectant. Burton, pale and +shrunken with the labors of the last ten days, looked out of his burning +eyes at the girl. For a single moment she had raised her head, had met +his fierce inquiry with a certain wistful pathos, puzzling, an +incomplete sentiment. Now she, too, was sitting as though in an +attitude of waiting. Burton felt his heart suddenly leap. What might +lie beyond the wall was of no account. He was a man with only a few +brief months to live, as he had come to understand life. He would +follow the eternal philosophy. He would do as the others and make the +best of them. + +"It is very kind of you," he said. "I am not prepared to make a +visit,--I mean my clothes, and that sort of thing,--but if you will take +me as I am, I will come with pleasure." + +Mr. Cowper's face showed the liveliest satisfaction. Edith, on the +other hand, never turned her head, although she felt Burton's eyes upon +her. + +"Capital!" the professor declared. "Now do not think that we are trying +to abduct you, but there is a motor-car outside. We are going to take +you straight home. You can have a little recreation this beautiful +afternoon--a walk on the moors, or some tennis with Edith here. We will +try and give you a pleasant time. You must collect your work now and +go and put your things together. We are not in the least hurry. We +will wait." + +Burton rose a little unsteadily to his feet. He was weary with much +labor, carried a little away by this wonderful prospect of living in the +same house, of having her by his side continually. It was too amazing +to realize. His heart gave a great leap as she moved towards him and +looked a little shyly into his face. + +"May I not help you to pick up these sheets? I see that you have +numbered them all. I will keep them in their proper order. Perhaps you +could trust me to do that while you went and packed your bag?" + +"Quite right, my dear--quite right," the professor remarked, +approvingly. "You will find my daughter most careful in such matters, +Mr. Burton. She is used to being associated with work of importance." + +"You are very kind," Burton murmured. "If you will excuse me, then, for +a few moments?" + +"By all means," the professor declared. "And pray suit yourself +entirely, Mr. Burton, as to the clothes you bring and the preparations +you make for your visit. If you prefer not to change for the evening, I +will do the same. I am renowned in the neighborhood chiefly for my +shabbiness and my carpet slippers." + +Burton paused on the threshold and looked back. Edith was bending over +the table, collecting the loose sheets of manuscript. The sunlight had +turned her hair almost to the color of flame. Against the background of +the open window, her slim, delicate figure, clad in a fashionable mist +of lace and muslin, seemed to him like some wonderful piece of intensely +modern statuary. Between them the professor sat, with his arms still +folded, a benevolent yet pensive smile upon his lips. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +ENTER MR. BOMFORD! + +"I have decided," Edith remarked, stopping the swinging of the hammock +with her foot, "to write and ask Mr. Bomford to come and spend the +week-end here." + +Burton shook his head. + +"Please don't think of it," he begged. "It would completely upset me. +I should not be able to do another stroke of work." + +"You and your work!" Edith murmured, looking down at him. "What about +me? What is the use of being engaged if I may not have my fiance come +and see me sometimes?" + +"You don't want him," Burton declared, confidently. + +"But I do," she insisted, "if only to stop your making love to me." + +"I do not make love to you," he asserted. "I am in love with you. +There is a difference." + +"But you ought not to be in love with me--you have a wife," she reminded +him. + +"A wife who lives at Garden Green does not count," he assured her. +"Besides, it was the other fellow who married her. She isn't really my +wife at all. It would be most improper of me to pretend that she was." + +"You are much too complicated a person to live in the same house with," +she sighed. "I shall do as I said. I shall ask Mr. Bomford down for +the week-end." + +"Then I shall go back to London," he pronounced, firmly. + +A shadow fell across the grass. + +"What's that--what's that?" the professor demanded, anxiously. + +They both looked up quickly. The professor had just put in one of his +unexpected appearances. He had a habit of shuffling about in felt +slippers which were altogether inaudible. + +"Miss Edith was speaking of asking a visitor--a Mr. Bomford--down for +the week-end," Burton explained suavely. "I somehow felt that I should +not like him. In any case, I have been here for a week and I really +ought--" + +"Edith will do nothing of the sort," the professor declared, sharply. +"Do you hear that, Edith? No one is to be asked here at all. Mr. +Burton's convenience is to be consulted before any one's." + +She yawned and made a face at Burton. + +"Very well, father," she replied meekly, "only I might just as well not +be engaged at all." + +"Just as well!" the professor snapped. "Such rubbish!" + +Edith swung herself upright in the hammock, arranged her skirts, and +faced her father indignantly. + +"How horrid of you!" she exclaimed. "You know that I only got engaged +to please you, because you thought that Mr. Bomford would take more +interest in publishing your books. If I can't ever have him here, I +shall break it off. He expects to be asked--I am quite sure he does." + +The professor frowned impatiently. + +"You are a most unreasonable child," he declared. "Mr. Bomford may +probably pay us a passing visit at any time, and you must be content +with that." + +Edith sighed. She contemplated the tips of her shoes for some moments. + +"I do seem to be in trouble to-day," she remarked,--"first with Mr. +Burton and then with you." + +The professor turned unsympathetically away. + +"You know perfectly well how to keep out of it," he said, making his way +toward the house. + +"Between you both," Edith continued, "I really am having rather a hard +time. This is the last straw of all. I am deprived of my young man +now, just to please you." + +"He isn't a young man," Burton contradicted. + +Edith clasped her hands behind her head and looked fixedly up at the +blue sky. + +"Never mind his age," she murmured. "He is really very nice." + +"I've seen his photograph in the drawing-room," Burton reminded her. + +Edith frowned. + +"He is really much better looking than that," she said with emphasis. + +"It is perhaps as well," Burton retorted, "especially if he is in the +habit of going about unattended." + +Edith ignored his last speech altogether. "Mr. Bomford is also," she +went on, "extremely pleasant and remarkably well-read. His manners are +charming." + +"I am sorry you are missing him so much," Burton said. + +"A girl," Edith declared, with her head in the air, "naturally misses +the small attentions to which she is accustomed from her fiance." + +"If there is anything an unworthy substitute can do," Burton began,-- + +"Nice girls do not accept substitutes for their fiances," Edith +interrupted, ruthlessly. "I am a very nice girl indeed. I think that +you are very lazy this afternoon. You would be better employed at work +than in talking nonsense." + +Burton sighed. + +"I tried to work this morning," he declared. "I gave up simply because +I found myself thinking of you all the time. Genius is so susceptible +to diversions. This afternoon I couldn't settle down because I was +wondering all the time whether you were wearing blue linen or white +muslin. I just looked out of the window to see--you were asleep in the +hammock . . . you witch!" he murmured softly. "How could I keep sane +and collected! How could I write about anybody or anything in the world +except you! The wind was blowing those little strands of hair over your +face. Your left arm was hanging down--so; why is an arm such a graceful +thing, I wonder? Your left knee was drawn up--you had been supporting a +book against it and--" + +"I don't want to hear another word," Edith protested quickly. + +He sighed. + +"It took me about thirty seconds to get down," he murmured. "You hadn't +moved." + +"Shall we have tea out here or in the study?" Edith asked. + +"Anywhere so long as we escape from this," Burton replied, gazing across +the lawn. "What is it?" + +A man was making his way from the house towards them, a man who +certainly presented a somewhat singular appearance. He was wearing a +long linen duster, a motor-cap which came over his ears, and a pair of +goggles which he was busy removing. Edith swung herself on to her feet. +Considering her late laments, the dismay in her tone was a little +astonishing. + +"It is Mr. Bomford!" she cried. + +Burton sighed--with relief. + +"I am glad to hear that it is human," he murmured. "I thought that it +was a Wells nightmare or that something from underground had been let +loose." + +She shot an indignant glance at him. Her greeting of Mr. Bomford was +almost enough to turn his head. She held out both her hands. + +"My dear Mr.--my dear Paul!" she exclaimed. "How glad I am to see you! +Have you motored down?" + +"Obviously, my dear, obviously," the newcomer remarked, removing further +portions of his disguise and revealing a middle-aged man of medium +height and unimposing appearance, with slight sandy whiskers and +moustache. "A very hot and dusty ride too. Still, after your father's +message I did not hesitate for a second. Where is he, Edith? Have you +any idea what it is that he wants?" + +She shook her head. + +"Did he send for you?" she asked. + +"Send for me!" Mr. Bomford repeated. "I should rather think he did." + +He looked inquiringly towards Burton. Edith introduced them. + +"This," she said, "is Mr. Burton, a friend of father's, who is staying +with us for a few days. He is writing a book. Perhaps, if you are very +polite to him, he will let you publish it. Mr. Bomford--Mr. Burton." + +The two men shook hands solemnly. Neither of them expressed any +pleasure at the meeting. + +"I am sure you would like a drink," Edith suggested. "Let me take you +up to the house and we can find father. You won't mind, Mr. Burton?" + +"Not in the least," he assured her. + +They disappeared into the house. Burton threw himself once more upon +the lawn, his hands clasped behind his head, gazing upwards through the +leafy boughs to the blue sky. So this was Mr. Bomford! This was the +rival of whom he had heard! Not so very formidable a person, not +formidable at all save for one thing only--he was free to marry her, +free to marry Edith. Burton lay and dreamed in the sunshine. A thrush +came out and sang to him. A west wind brought him wafts of perfume from +the gardens below. The serenity of the perfect afternoon mocked his +disturbed frame of mind. What was the use of it all? The longer he +remained here the more abject he became! . . . Suddenly Edith +reappeared alone. She came across the lawn to him with a slight frown +upon her forehead. He lay there and watched her until the last moment. +Then he rose and dragged out a chair for her. + +"So the lovers' interview is over!" he ventured to observe. "You do not +seem altogether transported with delight." + +"I am very much pleased indeed to see Mr. Bomford," she assured him. + +"I," he murmured, "am glad that I have seen him." + +Edith looked at him covertly. + +"I do not think," she said, "that I quite approve of your tone this +afternoon." + +"I am quite sure," he retorted, "that I do not approve of yours." + +She made a little grimace at him. + +"Let us agree, then, to be mutually dissatisfied. I do wish," she added +softly, "that I knew why father had sent for Mr. Bomford. It is +nothing to do with his work, I am sure of that. He knows that Paul +hates coming away from the office on week days." + +Burton groaned. + +"Is his name Paul?" + +"Certainly it is," she answered. + +"It sounds very familiar." + +"It is nothing of the sort; when you are engaged to a person, you +naturally call him by his Christian name. I can't think, though, why +father didn't tell us that he was coming." + +"I have an idea," Burton declared, "that his coming has something to do +with me." + +"With you? + +"Why not? Am I not an interesting subject for speculation? Mr. +Bomford, you told me only a few days ago, is a scientist, an +Egyptologist, a philosopher. Why should he not be interested in the +same things which interest your father?" + +"It is quite true," she admitted. "I had not thought of that." + +"At the present moment," Burton continued, moving a little on one side, +"they are probably in the dining-room drinking Hock and seltzer, and +your father is explaining to your fiance the phenomenon of my +experiences. I wonder whether he will believe them?" + +"Mr. Bomford," she said, "will believe anything that my father tells +him." + +"Are you very much in love?" Burton asked, irrelevantly. + +"You ask such absurd questions," she replied. "Nowadays, one is never +in love." + +"How little you know of what goes on nowadays!" he sighed. "What about +myself? Do I need to tell you that I am hopelessly in love with you?" + +"You," she declared, "are a phenomenon. You do not count." + +The professor and his guest came through the French window, arm in arm, +talking earnestly. + +"Look at them!" Burton groaned. "They are talking about me--I can tell +it by their furtive manner. Mr. Bomford has heard the whole story. He +is a little incredulous but he wishes to be polite to his future +father-in-law. What a pity that I could not have a relapse while he is +here!" + +"Couldn't you?" she exclaimed. "It would be such fun!" + +Burton shook his head. + +"Nothing but the truth," he declared sadly. + +Mr. Bomford, without his motoring outfit, was still an unprepossessing +figure. He wore a pince-nez; his manner was fussy and inclined to be a +little patronizing. He had the air of an unsuccessful pedagogue. He +was obviously regarding Burton with a new interest. During tea-time he +conversed chiefly with Edith, who seemed a little nervous, and answered +most of his questions with monosyllables. Burton and the professor were +silent. Burton was watching Edith and the professor was watching +Burton. As soon as the meal was concluded, the professor rose to his +feet. + +"Edith, my dear," he said, "we wish you to leave us for a minute or two. +Mr. Bomford and I have something to say to Mr. Burton." + +Edith, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, rose to her feet. She +caught a glance from Burton and turned at once to her fiance. + +"Am I to be taken for a ride this evening?" she asked. + +"A little later on, by all means, my dear Edith," Mr. Bomford declared. +"A little later on, certainly. Your father has kindly invited me to +stay and dine. It will give me very much pleasure. Perhaps we could go +for a short distance in--say three-quarters of an hour's time?" + +Edith went slowly back to the house. Burton watched her disappear. The +professor and Mr. Bomford drew their chairs a little closer. The +professor cleared his throat. + +"Mr. Burton," he began, "Mr. Bomford and I have a proposition to lay +before you. May I beg for your undivided attention?" + +Burton withdrew his eyes from the French window through which Edith had +vanished. + +"I am quite at your service," he answered quietly. "Please let me hear +exactly what it is that you have to say." + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BURTON DECLINES + +The professor cleared his throat. + +"In the first place, Mr. Burton," he said, "I feel that I owe you an +apology. I have taken a great liberty. Mr. Bomford here is one of my +oldest and most intimate friends. I have spoken to him of the +manuscript you brought me to translate. I have told him your story." + +Mr. Bomford scratched his side whiskers and nodded patronizingly. + +"It is a very remarkable story," he declared, "a very remarkable story +indeed. I can assure you, Mr.--Mr. Burton, that I never listened to +anything so amazing. If any one else except my old friend here had told +me of it, I should have laughed. I should have dismissed the whole +thing at once as incredible and preposterous. Even now, I must admit +that I find it almost impossible to accept the story in its entirety." + +Burton looked him coldly in the eyes. Mr. Bomford did not please him. + +"The story is perfectly true," he said. "There is not the slightest +necessity for you to believe it--in fact, so far as I am concerned, it +does not matter in the least whether you do or not." + +"Mr. Burton," the professor interposed, "I beg that you will not +misunderstand Mr. Bomford. His is not a militant disbelief, it is +simply a case of suspended judgment. In the meantime, assuming the +truth of what you have told us--and I for one, you must remember, Mr. +Burton, have every faith in your story--assuming its truth, Mr. Bomford +has made a most interesting proposition." + +Burton, with half-closed eyes, was listening to the singing of a thrush +and watching the sunshine creep through the dark foliage of the cedar +trees. He was only slightly interested. + +"A proposition?" he murmured. + +"Precisely," Mr. Cowper assented. "We have an appeal to make to you, +an appeal on behalf of science, an appeal on behalf of your +fellow-creatures, an appeal on behalf of yourself. Your amazing +experience is one which should be analyzed and given to the world." + +"What you want, I suppose," Burton remarked, "is one of my beans." + +"Exactly," the professor admitted, eagerly. + +"I have already," Burton said, "done my best to make you understand my +feelings in this matter. Those beans represent everything to me. +Nothing would induce me to part with a single one." + +"We can understand that," the professor agreed. "We are approaching you +with regard to them in an altogether different manner. Mr. Bomford is +a man of business. It is our wish to make you an offer." + +"You mean that you would like to buy one?" + +"Precisely," the professor replied. "We are prepared to give you, +between us, a thousand pounds for one of those beans." + +Burton shook his head. The conversation appeared to be totally devoid +of interest to him. + +"A thousand pounds," he said, "is, I suppose, a great deal of money. I +have never owned so much in my life. But money, after all, is only +valuable for what it can buy. Each one of my beans means two months, +perhaps more, of real life. No money could buy that." + +"My young friend," the professor insisted solemnly, "you are looking at +this matter from a selfish point of view. Experiences such as you have +passed through, belong to the world. You are merely the agent, the +fortunate medium, through which they have materialized." + +Burton shrugged his shoulders. + +"So far," he replied, "I owe no debt to humanity. The longer I live and +the wiser I get, the more I realize the absolute importance of +self-care. Individualism is the only real and logical creed. No one +else looks after your interests. No one else in the world save yourself +is of any real account." + +"A thousand pounds," Mr. Bomford interposed, "is a great deal of money +for a young man in your position." + +"It is a very great deal," Burton admitted. "But what you and Mr. +Cowper both seem to forget is the very small part that money plays in +the acquisition of real happiness. Money will not buy the joy which +makes life worth living, it will not buy the power to appreciate, the +power to discriminate. It will not buy taste or the finer feelings, +without the possession of which one becomes a dolt, a thing that creeps +about the face of the world. I thank you for your offer, professor, and +Mr. Bomford, but I have nothing to sell. If you would excuse me!" + +He half rose from his chair but Mr. Cowper thrust him back again. + +"We have not finished yet, my dear Mr. Burton," he said eagerly. "You +are making up your mind too hastily." + +"A thousand pounds," Mr. Bomford repeated, condescendingly, "is a very +useful sum. Those peculiar gifts of yours may vanish. Take the advice +of a business man. Remember that you will still have two or three beans +left. It is only one we ask for. I want to put the matter on as broad +a basis as possible. We make our appeal on behalf of the cause of +science. You must not refuse us." Burton rose to his feet determinedly. +"Not only do I refuse," he said, "but it is not a matter which I am +inclined to discuss any longer. I am sorry if you are disappointed, but +my story was really told to Mr. Cowper here in confidence." He left +them both sitting there. He found Edith in a corner of the long +drawing-room. She was pretending to read. + +"Whatever is the matter?" she asked. "I did not expect you so soon. I +thought that Mr. Bomford and father wanted to talk to you." "So they +did," he replied. "They made me a foolish offer. It was Mr. Bomford's +idea, I am sure, not your father's. I am tired, Edith. Come and walk +with me."--She glanced out of the window. + +"I think," she said demurely, "that I am expected to go for a ride with +Mr. Bomford." + +"Then please disappoint him," he pleaded. "I do not like your friend +Mr. Bomford. He is an egotistical and ignorant person. We will go +across the moors, we will climb our little hill. Perhaps we might even +wait there until the sunset." + +"I am quite sure," she said decidedly, "that Mr. Bomford would not like +that." + +"What does it matter?" he answered. "A man like Mr. Bomford has no +right to have any authority over you at all. You are of a different +clay. I am sure that you will never marry him. If you will not walk +with me, I shall work, and I am not in the humor for work. I shall +probably spoil one of my best chapters." + +She rose to her feet. + +"In the interests of your novel!" she murmured. "Come! Only we had +better go out by the back door." + +Like children they stole out of the house. They climbed the rolling +moorland till they reached the hill on the further side of the valley. +She sat down, breathless, with her back against the trunk of a small +Scotch fir. Burton threw himself on to the ground by her side. + +"We think too much always of consequences," he said "After this evening, +what does anything matter? The gorse is a flaming yellow; do you see +how it looks like a field of gold there in the distance? Only the haze +separates it from the blue sky. Look down where I am pointing, Edith. +It was there by the side of the road that I first looked into the garden +and saw you." + +"It was not you who looked," she objected, shaking her head. "It was +the other man." + +"What part is it that survives?" he asked, a little bitterly. "Why +should the new man be cursed with memory? Don't you think that even +then there must have been two of me, one struggling against the +other--one seeking for the big things, one laying hold of the lower? We +are all like that, Edith! Even now I sometimes feel the tug, although +it leads in other directions." + +"To Garden Green?" she murmured. + +"Never that," he answered fiercely, "and you know it. There are lower +heights, though, in the most cultured of lives. There are moments of +madness, moments that carry one off one's feet, which come alike to the +slave and his master. Dear Edith, up here one can talk. It is such a +beautiful world. One can open one's eyes, one can breathe, one can look +around him. It is the joy of simple things, the real true joy of life +which beats in our veins. Do you think that we were made for +unhappiness in such a world, Edith?" + +"No!" she whispered, faintly. + +"There isn't anything so beautiful to me upon God's earth," he +continued, "as the love in my heart for you. I wanted to tell you so +this evening. I have brought you here to tell you so--to this +particular spot. Something tells me that it may be almost our last +chance. I left those two whispering upon the lawn. What is it they are +planning, I wonder? That man Bomford is no companion for your father. +He has given him an idea about me and my story. What is it, I wonder? +To rob me, to throw me out, to take my treasure from me by force?" + +"You are my father's guest," she reminded him softly. "He will not +forget it." + +"There are greater things in the world," he went on, "than the +obligations of hospitality. There are tides which sweep away the +landmarks of nature herself. Your father is thirsty for knowledge. +This man Bomford is his friend. There have been more crimes committed +in the world for lofty motives than one hears of." + +He leaned a little forward. They could see the smoke curling up from +the house below, its gardens laid out like patchwork, the low house +itself covered with creepers. + +"It was an idyll, that," he went on. "Bomford's trail is about the +place now, the trail of some poisonous creature. Nothing will ever be +the same. I want to remember this last evening. I have looked upon +life from the hill tops and I have looked at it along the level ways, +but I have seen nothing in it so beautiful, I have felt nothing in it so +wonderful, as my love for you. You were a dream to me before, half +hidden, only partly realized. Soon you will be a dream to me again. +But never, never, dear, since the magic brush painted the blue into the +skies, the purple on to the heather, the green on to the grass, the +yellow into the gorse, the blue into your eyes, was there any love like +mine!" + +She leaned towards him. Her fingers were cold and her voice trembled. + +"You must not!" she begged. + +He smiled as he passed his arm around her. + +"Are we not on the hill top, dear?" he said. "You need have no fear. +Only to-night I felt that I must say these things to you, even though +the passion which they represent remains as ineffective forever as the +words themselves. I have a feeling, you know, that after to-day things +will be different." + +"Why should they be?" she asked. "In any case, your time cannot come +yet." + +Once more he looked downward into the valley. Like a little speck along +the road a motor-car was crawling along. + +"It is Mr. Bomford," he said. "He is coming to look for you." + +She rose to her feet. Together they stood, for a moment, hand in hand, +looking down upon the flaming landscape. The fields at their feet were +brilliant with color; in the far distance the haze of the sea. Their +fingers were locked. + +"Mr. Bomford," he sighed, "is coming up the hill." + +"Then I think," she said quietly, "that we had better go down!" + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE END OF A DREAM + +Dinner that evening was a curious meal, partly constrained, partly +enlivened by strange little bursts of attempted geniality on the part of +the professor. Mr. Bomford told long and pointless stories with much +effort and the air of a man who would have made himself agreeable if he +could. Edith leaned back in her chair, eating very little, her eyes +large, her cheeks pale. She made her escape as soon as possible and +Burton watched her with longing eyes as he passed out into the cool +darkness. He half rose, indeed, to follow her, but his host and Mr. +Bomford both moved their chairs so that they sat on either side of him. +The professor filled the glasses with his own hand. It was his special +claret, a wonderful wine, the cobwebbed bottle of which, reposing in a +wicker cradle, he handled with jealous care. + +"Mr. Burton," he began, settling down in his chair, "we have been +unjust to you, Mr. Bomford and I. We apologize. We ask your +forgiveness." + +"Unjust?" Burton murmured. + +"Unjust," the professor repeated. "I allude to this with a certain +amount of shame. We made you an offer of a thousand pounds for a +portion of that--er--peculiar product to which you owe this wonderful +change in your disposition. We were in the wrong. We had thoughts in +our mind which we should have shared with you. It was not fair, Mr. +Burton, to attempt to carry out such a scheme as Mr. Bomford here had +conceived, without including you in it." The professor nodded to +himself, amiably satisfied with his words. Burton remained mystified. +Mr. Bomford took up the ball. + +"We yielded, Mr. Burton," he said, "to the natural impulse of all +business men. We tried to make the best bargain we could for ourselves. +A little reflection and--er--your refusal of our offer, has brought us +into what I trust you will find a more reasonable frame of mind. We +wish now to treat you with the utmost confidence. We wish to lay our +whole scheme before you." + +"I don't know what you mean," Burton declared, a little wearily. "You +want one of my beans, for which you offered a certain sum of money. I +am sorry. I would give you one if I could, but I cannot spare it. They +are all that stand between me and a relapse into a state of being which +I shudder to contemplate. Need we discuss it any further? I think, if +you do not mind--" + +He half rose to his feet, his eyes were searching the shadows of the +garden. The professor pulled him down. + +"Be reasonable, Mr. Burton--be reasonable," he begged. "Listen to what +Mr. Bomford has to say." + +Mr. Bomford cleared his throat, scratched his chin for a moment +thoughtfully, and half emptied his glass of claret. + +"Our scheme, my young friend," He said condescendingly, "is worthy even +of your consideration. You are, I understand, gifted with some powers +of observation which you have turned to lucrative account. It has +naturally occurred to you, then, in your studies of life, that the +greatest accumulations of wealth which have taken place during the +present generation have come entirely through discoveries, which either +nominally or actually have affected the personal well-being of the +individual. Do I make myself clear? + +"I have no doubt," Burton murmured, "that I shall understand presently." + +"Once convince a man," Mr. Bomford continued, "that you are offering +him something which will improve his health, and he is yours, or rather +his money is--his two and sixpence or whatever particular sum you may +have designed to relieve him of. It is for that reason that you see the +pages of the magazines and newspapers filled with advertisements of new +cures for ancient diseases. There is more money in the country than +there has ever been, but there are just the same number of real and +fancied diseases. Mankind is, if possible, more credulous to-day than +at any epoch during our history. There are millions who will snatch at +the slightest chance of getting rid of some real or fancied ailment. +Great journals have endeavored to persuade us that you can attain +perfect health by standing on your head in the bathroom for ten minutes +before breakfast. A million bodies, distorted into strange shapes, can +be seen every morning in the domestic bed-chamber. A health-food made +from old bones has been one of the brilliant successes of this +generation. Now listen to my motto. This is what I want to bring home +to every inhabitant of this country. This is what I want to see in +great black type in every newspaper, on every hoarding, and if possible +flashed at night upon the sky: 'Cure the mind first; the mind will cure +the body.' That," Mr. Bomford concluded, modestly, "is my idea of one +of our preliminary advertisements." + +The professor nodded approvingly. Burton glanced from one to the other +of the two men with an air of almost pitiful non-comprehension. Mr. +Bomford, having emptied his glass of claret, started afresh. + +"My idea, in short," he went on, "is this. Let us three join forces. +Let us analyze this marvelous product, into the possession of which you, +Mr. Burton, have so mysteriously come. Let us, blending its +constituents as nearly as possible, place upon the market a health-food +not for the body but for the mind. You follow me now, I am sure? +Menti-culture is the craze of the moment. It would become the craze of +the million but for a certain vagueness in its principles, a certain +lack of appeal to direct energies. We will preach the cause. We will +give the public something to buy. We will ask them ten and sixpence a +time and they will pay it gladly. What is more, Mr. Burton, the public +will pay it all over the world. America will become our greatest +market. Nothing like this has ever before been conceived, 'Leave your +bodies alone for a time,' we shall say. 'Take our food and improve your +moral system.' We shall become the crusaders of commerce. Your story +will be told in every quarter of the globe, it will be translated into +every conceivable tongue. Your picture will very likely adorn the lid +of our boxes. It will be a matter for consideration, indeed, whether we +shall not name this great discovery after you." + +"So it was for this," Burton exclaimed, "that you offered me that +thousand pounds!" + +"We were to blame," Mr. Bomford admitted. + +"Very much to blame," the professor echoed. + +"Nevertheless," Mr. Bomford insisted, "it is an incident which you must +forget. It is man's first impulse, is it not, to make the best bargain +he can for himself? We tried it and failed. For the future we abandon +all ideas of that sort, Mr. Burton. We associate you, both nominally +and in effect, with our enterprise, in which we will be equal partners. +The professor will find the capital, I will find the commercial +experience, you shall hand over the bean. I promise you that before +five years have gone by, you shall be possessed of wealth beyond any +dreams you may ever have conceived." + +Burton moved uneasily in his chair. + +"But I have never conceived any dreams of wealth at all," he objected. +"I have no desire whatever to be rich. Wealth seems to me to be only an +additional excitement to vulgarity. Besides, the possession of wealth +in itself tends to an unnatural state of existence. Man is happy only +if he earns the money which buys for him the necessaries of life." + +Mr. Bomford listened as one listens to a lunatic. Mr. Cowper, +however, nodded his head in kindly toleration. + +"Thoughts like that," he admitted, "have come to me, my young friend, in +the seclusion of my study. They have come, perhaps, in the inspired +moments, but in the inspired moments one is not living that every-day +and necessary life which is forced upon us by the conditions of +existence in this planet. There is nothing in the whole scheme of life +so great as money. With it you can buy the means of gratifying every +one of those unnatural desires with which Fate has endowed us. Take my +case, for instance. If this wealth comes to me, I shall spend no more +upon what I eat or drink or wear, yet, on the other hand, I shall +gratify one of the dreams of my life. I shall start for the East with a +search party, equipped with every modern invention which the mind of man +has conceived. I shall go from site to site of the ruined cities of +Egypt. No one can imagine what treasures I may not discover. I shall +even go on to a part of Africa--but I need not weary you with this. I +simply wanted you to understand that the desire for wealth is not +necessarily vulgar." + +Burton yawned slightly. His eyes sought once more the velvety shadows +which hung over the lawn. He wondered down which of those dim avenues +she had passed. + +"I am so sorry," he said apologetically. "You are a man of business, +Mr. Bomford, and you, professor, see much further into life than I can, +but I do not wish to have anything whatever to do with your scheme. It +does not appeal to me in the least--in fact it offends me. It seems +crassly vulgar, a vulgar way of attaining to a position which I, +personally, should loathe." + +He rose to his feet. + +"If you will excuse me, professor," he said. Mr. Bomford, with a +greater show of vigor than he had previously displayed, jumped up and +laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder. His hard face seemed +suddenly to have become the rioting place for evil passions. His lips +were a little parted and his teeth showed unpleasantly. + +"Do you mean, young man," he exclaimed, "that you refuse to join us?" + +"That is what I intended to convey," Burton replied coldly. + +"You refuse either to come into our scheme or to give us one of the +beans?" + +Burton nodded. + +"I hold them in trust for myself." There was a moment's silence. Mr. +Bomford seemed to be struggling for words. The professor was looking +exceedingly disappointed. + +"Mr. Burton," he protested, "I cannot help feeling a certain amount of +admiration for your point of view, but, believe me, you are entirely in +the wrong. I beg that you will think this matter over." + +"I am sure that it would be useless," Burton replied. "Nothing would +induce me to change my mind." + +"Nothing?" Mr. Bomford asked, with a peculiar meaning in his tone. + +"Nothing?" the professor echoed softly. + +Burton withdrew his eyes from the little shadowy vista of garden and +looked steadfastly at the two men. Then his heart began to beat. He +was filled with a sort of terror lest they should say what he felt sure +was in their minds. It was like sacrilege. It was something unholy. +His eyes had been caught by the flutter of a white gown passing across +one of the lighter places of the perfumed darkness. They had been +watching him. He only prayed that they would not interrupt until he had +reached the end of his speech. + +"Professor," he said softly, turning to his host, "there is one thing +which I desire so greatly that I would give my life itself for it. I +would give even what you have asked for to-night and be content to leave +the world in so much shorter time. But that one thing I may not ask of +you, for in those days of which I have told you, before the wonderful +adventure came, I was married. My wife lives now in Garden Green. I +have also a little boy. You will forgive me." + +He passed through the open French windows and neither of them made any +further attempt to detain him. Their silence was a little unnatural and +from the walk outside he glanced for a moment behind him. The two men +were sitting in exactly the same positions, their faces were turned +towards him, and their eyes seemed to be following his movements. Yet +there was a change. The professor was no longer the absorbed, mildly +benevolent man of science. Mr. Bomford had lost his commonplace +expression. There was a new thing in their faces, something eager, +ominous. Burton felt a sudden depression as he turned away. He looked +with relief at the thin circle of the moon, visible now through the +waving elm trees at the bottom of the garden. He drew in with joy a +long breath of the delicious perfume drawn by the night from the silent +boughs of the cedar tree. Resolutely he hurried away from the sight of +that ugly little framed picture upon which he had gazed through the open +French windows--the two men on either side of the lamp, watching him. + +"Edith!" he called softly. + +She answered him with a little laugh. She was almost by his side. He +took a quick step forward. She was standing among the deepest shadows, +against the trunk of the cedar tree, her slim body leaning slightly +against it. It seemed to him that her face was whiter, her eyes softer +than ever. He took her hand in his. + +She smiled. + +"You must not come out to me here," she whispered. "Mr. Bomford will +not like it. It is most improper." + +"But it may be our good-bye," he pleaded. "They want me to do +something, Mr. Bomford and your father, something hideous, utterly +grotesque. I have refused and they are very angry." + +"What is it that they want you to do?" + +"Dear," he answered, "you, I am sure, will understand. They want me to +give them one of my beans. They want to make some wretched drug or +medicine from it, to advertise it all over the world, to amass a great +fortune." + +"Are you in earnest?" she cried. + +"Absolutely," he assured her. "It is Mr. Bomford's scheme. He says +that it would mean great wealth for all of us. Your father, too, +praises it. He, too, seemed to come--for the moment, at any rate--under +the curse. He, too, is greedy for money." + +"And you?" she whispered. "What did you say? + +"What did I say?" he repeated wonderingly. "But of course you know! +Imagine the horror of it--a health-food for the mind! Huge sums of +money rolling in from the pockets of credulous people, money stinking +with the curse of vulgarity and quackery! It is almost like a false +note, dear, to speak of it out here, but I must tell you because they +are angry with me. I am afraid that your father will send me away, and +I am afraid that our little dream is over and that I shall not wander +with you any more evenings here in the cool darkness, when the heat of +the day is past and the fragrance of the cedar tree and your roses fills +the air, and you, your sweet self, Edith, are here." + +She was looking at him very fixedly. Her lips were a little parted, her +eyes were moist, her bosom was rising and falling as though she were +shaken by some wonderful emotion. + +"Dear!" she murmured. + +It seemed to him that she leaned a little towards him. His heart ached +with longing. Very slowly, almost reverently, his hands touched her +shoulders, drew her towards him. + +"You and I," he whispered, "at least we live in the same world. Nothing +will ever be able to take the joy of that thought from my heart." + +She remained quite passive. In her eyes there was a far-away look. + +"Dear," she said softly in his ear, "you are such a dreamer, aren't +you--such a dear unpractical person? Have you never used your wonderful +imagination to ask yourself what money may really mean? You can buy a +world of beautiful things, you can buy the souls of men and women, you +can buy the law." + +He felt a cold pain in his heart. Looking at her through the twilight +he could almost fancy that there was a gleam in her face of something +which he had seen shining out of her father's eyes. His arms fell away +from her. The passion which had thrilled him but a moment ago seemed +crushed by that great resurgent impulse which he was powerless to +control. + +"You think that I should do this?" he cried, hoarsely. + +"Why not?" she answered. "Money is only vulgar if you spend it +vulgarly. It might mean so much to you and to me." + +"Tell me how?" he faltered. + +"Mr. Bomford is very fond of money," she continued. "He is fonder of +money, I think, than he is of me. And then," she added, her voice +sinking to a whisper, "there is Garden Green. Of course, I do not know +much about these things, but I suppose if you really wanted to, and +spent a great deal of money, you could buy your freedom, couldn't you?" + +The air seemed full of jangling discords. He closed his eyes. It was +as though a shipwreck was going on around him. His dream was being +broken up into pieces. The girl with the fair hair was passing into the +shadows from which she had come. She called to him across the lawn as +he hurried away, softly at first and then insistently. But Burton did +not return. He spent his night upon the Common. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A BAD HALF-HOUR + +Burton slept that night under a gorse bush. He was no sooner alone on +the great unlit Common with its vast sense of spaciousness, its cool +silence, its splendid dome of starlit sky, than all his anger and +disappointment seemed to pass away. The white, threatening faces of the +professor and Mr. Bomford no longer haunted him. Even the memory of +Edith herself tugged no longer at his heartstrings. He slept almost +like a child, and awoke to look out upon a million points of sunlight +sparkling in the dewdrops. A delicious west wind was blowing. Little +piled-up masses of white cloud had been scattered across the blue sky. +Even the gorse bushes creaked and quivered. The fir trees in a little +spinney close at hand were twisted into all manners of shapes. Burton +listened to their music for a few minutes, and exchanged civilities with +a dapple-breasted thrush seated on a clump of heather a few yards away. +Then he rose to his feet, took in a long breath of the fresh morning +air, and started briskly across the Common towards the nearest railway +station. + +He was conscious, after the first few steps, of a dim premonition of +some coming change. It did not affect--indeed, it seemed to increase +the lightness of his spirits, yet he was conscious at the back of his +brain of a fear which he could not put into words. The first indication +of real trouble came in the fact that he found himself whistling +"Yip-i-addy-i-ay" as he turned into the station yard. He knew then what +was coming. + +After the first start, the rapidity of his collapse was appalling. The +seclusion of the first-class carriage to which his ticket entitled him, +and which his somewhat peculiar toilet certainly rendered advisable, was +suddenly immensely distasteful. He bought Tit-bits and Ally Sloper at +the bookstall, squeezed his way into a crowded third-class compartment, +and joined in a noisy game of nap with half a dozen roistering young +clerks, who were full of jokes about his crumpled dinner clothes. +Arrived in London, he had the utmost difficulty to refrain from buying a +red and yellow tie displayed in the station lavatory where he washed and +shaved, and the necessity for purchasing a collar stud left him for a +few moments in imminent peril of acquiring a large brass-stemmed +production with a sham diamond head. He hastened to his rooms, scarcely +daring to look about him, turned over the clothes in his wardrobe with a +curious dissatisfaction, and dressed himself hastily in as offensive a +combination of garments as he could lay his hands upon. He bought some +common Virginian cigarettes and made his way to the offices of Messrs. +Waddington and Forbes. + +Mr. Waddington was unfeignedly glad to see him. His office was +pervaded by a sort of studious calm which, from a business point of +view, seemed scarcely satisfactory. Mr. Waddington himself appeared to +be immersed in a calf-bound volume of Ruskin. He glanced curiously at +his late employee. + +"Did you dress in a hurry, Burton?" he inquired. "That combination of +gray trousers and brown coat with a blue tie seems scarcely in your +usual form." + +Burton dragged up a chair to the side of his late employer's desk. + +"Mr. Waddington," he begged, "don't let me go out of your sight until I +have taken another bean. It came on early this morning. I went through +all my wardrobe to find the wrong sort of clothes, and the only thing +that seemed to satisfy me was to wear odd ones. Whatever you do, don't +lose sight of me. In a few hours' time I shouldn't want to take a bean +at all. I should be inviting you to lunch at the Golden Lion, playing +billiards in the afternoon, and having a night out at a music hall." + +Mr. Waddington nodded sympathetically. + +"Poor fellow!" he said. "Seems odd that you should turn up this +morning. I can sympathize with you. Have you noticed my tie?" + +Burton nodded approvingly. + +"Very pretty indeed," he declared. + +"You won't think so when you've had that bean," Mr. Waddington groaned. +"It began to come on with me about an hour ago. I forced myself into +these clothes but the tie floored me. I've a volume of Ruskin here +before me, but underneath, you see," he continued, lifting up the +blotting-paper, "is a copy of Snapshots. I'm fighting it off as long as +I can. The fact is I've a sale this afternoon. I thought if I could +last until after that it might not be a bad thing." + +"How's the biz?" Burton asked with a touch of his old jauntiness. +"Going strong, eh?" + +"Not so good and not so bad," Mr. Waddington admitted. "We've got over +that boom that started at first when people didn't understand things. +They seem to regard me now with a mixture of suspicion and contempt. +All the same, we get a good many outside buyers in, and we've pulled +along all right up till now. It's been the best few months of my life," +Mr. Waddington continued, "by a long way, but I'm getting scared, and +that's a fact." + +"How many beans have you left?" Burton inquired. + +"Four," Mr. Waddington replied. "What I shall do when they've gone I +can't imagine." + +Burton held his head for a moment a little wearily. + +"There are times," he confessed, "especially when one's sort of between +the two things like this, when I can't see my way ahead at all. Do you +know that last night the man with whom I have been staying--a man of +education too, who has been a professor at Oxford University,--and +another, a more commercial sort of Johnny, offered me a third +partnership in a great enterprise for putting on the market a new mental +health-food, if I would give them one of the beans for analysis. They +were convinced that we should make millions." + +Mr. Waddington was evidently struck with the idea. + +"It's a great scheme," he said hesitatingly. "I suppose last night it +occurred to you that it was just a trifle--eh?--just a trifle vulgar?" +he asked tentatively. + +Burton assented gloomily. + +"Last night," he declared, "it seemed to me like a crime. It made me +shiver all over while they talked of it. To-day, well, I'm half glad +and I'm half sorry that they're not here. If they walked into this +office now I'd swallow a bean as quickly as I could, but I tell you +frankly, Mr. Waddington, that at the present moment it seems entirely +reasonable to me. Money, after all, is worth having, isn't it?--a nice +comfortable sum so that one could sit back and just have a good time. +Don't stare at me like that. Of course, I'm half ashamed of what I'm +saying. There's the other part pulling and tugging away all the time +makes me feel inclined to kick myself, but I can't help it. I know that +these half formed ideas of enjoyment by means of wealth are only +degrading, that one would sink--oh, hang it all, Mr. Waddington, what a +mess it all is!" + +Mr. Waddington pulled down his desk. + +"We must go through with it, Burton," he said firmly. "You're more +advanced than I am in this thing, I can see. You'll need your bean +quickly. I believe I can hold off till after the sale. But--I've a +curious sort of temptation at the present moment, Burton. Shall I tell +you what it is?" + +"Go ahead," Burton answered gloomily. + +Mr. Waddington slapped his trousers pocket. + +"Before we do another thing," he suggested, "let's go round to the +Golden Lion and have just one bottle of beer--just to feel what it's +like, eh?" + +Burton sprang up. + +"By Jove, let's!" he exclaimed. "I've had no breakfast. I'm ravenous. +Do they still have that cheese and crusty loaf there?" + +Mr. Waddington glanced at the clock. + +"It's on by now," he declared. "Come along." + +They went out together and trod eagerly yet a trifle sheepishly the very +well-known way that led to the Golden Lion. The yellow-haired young +lady behind the bar welcomed them with a little cry of astonishment. +She tossed her head. Her manner was familiar but was intended to convey +some sense of resentment. + +"To think of seeing you two again!" she exclaimed. "You, Mr. +Waddington, of all gentlemen in the world! Well, I declare!" she went +on, holding out her hand across the counter, after having given it a +preliminary wipe with a small duster. "Talk about a deserter! Where +have you been to every morning, I should like to know?" + +"Not anywhere else, my dear," Mr. Waddington asserted, hastily, "that I +can assure you. Seem to have lost my taste for beer, or taking anything +in the morning lately. Matter of digestion, I suppose. Must obey our +doctors, eh? We'll have a tankard each, please. That's right, isn't +it, Burton?" + +Burton, whose mouth was already full of bread and cheese, nodded. The +two men sat down in a little enclosed partition. The yellow-haired +young lady leaned across the counter with the air of one willing for +conversation. + +"Such queer things as I've heard about you, Mr. Waddington," she began. +"My! the way people have been talking!" + +"That so?" Mr. Waddington muttered. "Wish they'd mind their own +business." + +"That's too much to expect from folks nowadays," the young lady +continued. "Why, there were some saying as you'd come into a fortune +and spent all your time in the west-end, some that you'd turned +religious, and others that you'd gone a bit dotty. I must say you're +looking somehow different, you and Mr. Burton too. It's quite like old +times, though, to see you sitting there together. You used to come in +after every sale and sit just where you're sitting now and go through +the papers. How's the business?" + +"Very good," Mr. Waddington admitted. "How have you been getting +along, eh?" + +The young lady sighed. She rolled her eyes at Mr. Waddington in a +manner which was meant to be languishing. + +"Very badly indeed," she declared, "thanks to you, you neglectful, +ungrateful person! I've heard of fickle men before but I've never met +one to come up to one that I could name." + +Mr. Waddington moved a little uneasily in his place. + +"Been to the theatre lately?" he inquired. + +The theatre was apparently a sore point. + +"Been to the theatre, indeed!" she repeated. "Why, I refused all the +other gentlemen just so as to go with you, and as soon as we got nicely +started, why, you never came near again! I've had no chance to go." + +Mr. Waddington took out a little book. + +"I wonder," he suggested, "if any evening--" "Next Thursday night at +seven o'clock, I shall be free," the young lady interrupted promptly. +"We'll have a little dinner first, as we used to, and I want to go to +the Gaiety. It's lucky you came in," she went on, "for I can assure you +that I shouldn't have waited much longer. There are others, you know, +that are free enough with their invitations." + +She tossed her head. With her hands to the back of her hair she turned +round to look at herself for a moment in one of the mirrors which lined +the inside of the bar. Burton grinned at his late employer. + +"Now you've gone and done it!" he whispered. "Why, you'll have taken a +bean before then!" + +Mr. Waddington started. + +"I'll have to make some excuse," he said. + +"You won't be able to," Burton reminded him. "Excuses are not for us, +nowadays. You'll have to tell the truth. I'm afraid you've rather put +your foot in it." + +Mr. Waddington became thoughtful. The young lady, having disposed of +some other customers, returned to her place. She rubbed the counter for +a few minutes with a duster which hung from the belt around her waist. +Then she leaned over once more towards them. + +"It's a pity Maud's off duty, Mr. Burton," she remarked. "She's been +asking about you pretty nearly every day." + +A vision of Maud rose up before Burton's eyes. First of all he +shivered. Then in some vague, unwholesome sort of manner he began to +find the vision attractive. He found himself actually wishing that she +were there--a buxom young woman with dyed hair and sidelong glances, a +loud voice, and a distinct fancy for flirtations. + +"She is quite well, I hope?" he said. + +"Oh, Maudie's all right!" the young lady replied. "Fortunately for her, +she's like me--she don't lay too much store on the things you gentlemen +say when you come in. Staying away for months at a time!" she continued +indignantly. "I'm ashamed of both of you. It's the way we girls always +get treated. I shall tell them to lay for you for lunch to-day, +anyway." + +The two men looked at one another across the round table. Mr. +Waddington heaved a sigh. + +"I shouldn't bother about that sale, if I were you," Burton whispered +hoarsely. "I tell you what it is, I daren't go on like this any longer. +I shall do something desperate. This horrible place is getting +attractive to me! I shall probably sit here and order more beer and +wait till Maud comes; I shall stay to lunch and sit with my arm around +her afterwards! I am going to take a bean at once." + +Mr. Waddington sighed and produced the snuff-box from his waistcoat +pocket. Burton followed suit. The young woman, leaning across the +counter, watched them curiously. + +"What's that you're taking?" she inquired. "Something for indigestion?" + +"Not exactly," Mr. Waddington replied. "It's a little ailment I'm +suffering from, and Burton too." + +They both swallowed their beans. Burton gave a deep sigh. + +"I feel safe again," he murmured. "I am certain that I was on the point +of suggesting that she send up for Maud. We might have taken them out +together to-night, Mr. Waddington--had dinner at Frascati's, drunk +cheap champagne, and gone to a music-hall!" + +"Burton," Mr. Waddington said calmly, "I do not for a moment believe +that we should so far have forgotten ourselves. I don't know how you +are feeling, but the atmosphere of this place is most distasteful to me. +These tawdry decorations are positively vicious. The odor, too, is +insufferable." + +Burton rose hastily to his feet. + +"I quite agree with you," he said. "Let us get out as quickly as we +can." + +"Something," Mr. Waddington went on, "ought to be done to prevent the +employment of young women in a public place. It is enough to alter +one's whole opinion of the sex to see a brazen-looking creature like +that lounging about the bar, and to be compelled to be served by her if +one is in need of a little refreshment." + +Burton nodded his approbation. + +"How we could ever have found our way into the place," he said, "I can't +imagine." + +"A moment or two ago," Mr. Waddington groaned, "you were thinking of +sending up for Maud." + +Burton, at this, wiped the perspiration from his forehead. + +"Please don't remind me of it," he begged. "Let us get away as quickly +as we can." + +The young lady leaned over from the bar, holding out a hand, none too +clean, on which sparkled several rings. + +"Well, you're in a great hurry all at once," she remarked. "Can't you +stay a bit longer?"--She glanced at the clock.--"Maud will be down in +ten minutes. You're not going away after all this time without leaving +a message or something for her, Mr. Burton, surely?" + +Burton looked at her across the counter as one might look at some +strange creature from a foreign world, a creature to be pitied, perhaps, +nothing more. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that mine was only a chance visit. Pray +remember me to Miss Maud, if you think it would be any satisfaction to +her." + +The young woman stared at him. + +"My, but you are funny!" she declared. "You were always such a one for +acting! I'll give her your love, never fear. I shall tell her you'll +be round later in the day. On Thursday night, then," she added, turning +to Mr. Waddington, "if I don't see you before, and if you really mean +you're not going to stay for lunch. I'll meet you at the corner as +usual." + +Mr. Waddington turned away without apparently noticing the outstretched +hand. He raised his hat, however, most politely. "If I should be +prevented," he began,--The young woman glared at him. + +"Look here, I've had enough of this shilly-shallying!" she exclaimed +sharply. "Do you mean taking me out on Thursday or do you not?--because +there's a gentleman who comes in here for his beer most every morning +who's most anxious I should dine out with him my next night off. I've +only to say the word and he'll fetch me in a taxicab. I'm not sure that +he hasn't got a motor of his own. No more nonsense, if you please, Mr. +Waddington," she continued, shaking out her duster. "Is that an +engagement with you on Thursday night, or is it not?" + +Mr. Waddington measured with his eye the distance to the door. He +gripped Burton's arm and looked over his shoulder. + +"It is not," he said firmly. + +They left the place a little precipitately. Once in the open air, +however, they seemed quickly to recover their equanimity. Burton +breathed a deep sigh of relief. + +"I must go and change my clothes, Mr. Waddington," he declared. "I +don't know how on earth I could have come out looking such a sight. I +feel like working, too." + +"Such a lovely morning!" Mr. Waddington sighed, gazing up at the sky. +"If only one could escape from these hateful streets and get out into +the country for a few hours! Have you ever thought of travelling +abroad, Burton?" + +"Have you?" Burton asked. + +Mr. Waddington nodded. + +"I have it in my mind at the present moment," he admitted. "Imagine the +joy of wandering about in Rome or Florence, say, just looking at the +buildings one has heard of all one's life! And the picture +galleries--just fancy the picture galleries, Burton! What a dream! +Have you ever been to Paris?" + +"Never," Burton confessed sadly. + +"Nor I," Mr. Waddington continued. "I have been lying awake at nights +lately, thinking of Versailles. Why do we waste our time here at all, I +wonder, in this ugly little corner of the universe?" + +Burton smiled. + +"There is something of the hedonist about you, Mr. Waddington," he +remarked. "To me these multitudes of people are wonderful. I seem +driven always to seek for light in the crowded places." + +Mr. Waddington called a taxicab. + +"Can I give you a lift?" he asked. "I have no sale until the afternoon. +I shall go to one of the galleries. I want to escape from the memory of +the last half-hour!" + + + +CHAPTER XX + +ANOTHER COMPLICATION + +There came a time when Burton finished his novel. He wrapped it up very +carefully in brown paper and set out to call upon his friend the +sub-editor. He gained his sanctum without any particular trouble and +was warmly greeted. + +"Why haven't you brought us anything lately?" the sub-editor asked. + +Burton tapped the parcel which he was carrying. + +"I have written a novel," he said. + +The sub-editor was not in the least impressed--in fact he shook his +head. + +"There are too many novels," he declared. + +"I am afraid," Burton replied, "that there will have to be one more, or +else I must starve." + +"Why have you brought it here, anyhow?" + +"I thought you might tell me what to do with it," Burton answered, +diffidently. + +The sub-editor sighed and drew a sheet of note-paper towards him. He +wrote a few lines and put them in an envelope. + +"There is a letter of introduction to a publisher," he explained. +"Frankly, I don't think it is worth the paper it is written on. +Nowadays, novels are published or not, either according to their merit +or the possibility of their appealing to the public taste." + +Burton looked at the address. + +"Thank you very much," he said. "I will take this in myself." + +"When are you going to bring us something?" the sub-editor inquired. + +"I am going home to try and write something now," Burton replied. "It +is either that or the pawnshop." + +The sub-editor nodded. + +"Novels are all very well for amusement," he said, "but they don't bring +in bread and cheese. Come right up to me as soon as you've got +something." + +Burton left his novel at the address which the sub-editor had given him, +and went back to his lodgings. He let himself in with a latchkey. The +caretaker of the floor bustled up to him as he turned towards the door +of his room. + +"Don't know that I've done right, sir," she remarked, doubtfully. +"There was a young person here, waiting about to see you, been waiting +the best part of an hour. I let her into your sitting-room." + +"Any name?" Burton asked. + +The caretaker looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. + +"Said she was your wife, sir. Sorry if I've done wrong. It came over +me afterwards that I'd been a bit rash." + +Burton threw open the door of his sitting-room and closed it quickly +behind him. It was indeed Ellen who was sitting in the most +uncomfortable chair, with her arms folded, in an attitude of grim but +patient resignation. She was still wearing the hat with the wing, the +mauve scarf, the tan shoes, and the velveteen gown. A touch of the +Parisienne, however, was supplied to her costume by a black veil dotted +over with purple spots. Her taste in perfumes was obviously unaltered. + +"Ellen!" he exclaimed. + +"Well?" she replied. + +As a monosyllabic start to a conversation, Ellen's "Well?" created +difficulties. Instead of his demanding an explanation, she was doing +it. Burton was conscious that his opening was not brilliant. + +"Why, this is quite a surprise!" he said. "I had no idea you were +here." + +"Dare say not," she answered. "Didn't know I was coming myself till I +found myself on the doorstep. Kind of impulse, I suppose. What have +you been doing to little Alf?" + +Burton looked at her in bewilderment. + +"Doing to the boy?" he repeated. "I haven't seen him since I saw you +last." + +"That's all very well for a tale," Ellen replied, "but you're not going +to tell me that he's come into these ways naturally." + +"What ways?" Burton exclaimed. "My dear Ellen, you must be a little +more explicit. I tell you that I have not seen the child since I was at +Garden Green. I am utterly ignorant of anything which may have happened +to him." + +Ellen remained entirely unconvinced. + +"There's things about," she declared, "which I don't understand nor +don't want to. First of all you go dotty. Now the same sort of thing +seems to have come to little Alf, and what I want to know is what you +mean by it? It's all rubbish for you to expect me to believe that he's +taken to this naturally." + +Burton put his hand to his head for a moment. + +"Go on," he said. "Unless you tell me what has happened to Alfred, I +cannot even attempt to help you." + +"Well, I'll tell you fast enough," Ellen assured him, "though you +needn't take that for a proof that I believe what you say. He's been a +changed child ever since you were down last. Came home from the school +and complained about the other boys not washing properly. Wanted a bath +every day, and made me buy him a new toothbrush. Brushes his hair and +washes his hands every time he goes out. Took a dislike to his tie and +burned it. Plagued me to death till I got him a new suit of +clothes--plain, ugly things, too, he would have. He won't have nothing +to do with his friends, chucked playing marbles or hopscotch, and goes +out in the country, picking flowers. Just to humor him, the first lot +he brought home I put in one of those vases that ma brought us from +Yarmouth, and what do you think he did?--threw the vase out of the +window and bought with his own pocket money a plain china bowl." + +Burton listened in blank amazement. As yet the light had not come. + +"Go on," he murmured. "Anything else?" + +"Up comes his master a few days ago," Ellen continued. "Fairly scared +me to death. Said the boy showed signs of great talent in drawing. +Talent in drawing, indeed! I'll give him talent! Wanted me to have him +go to night school and pay for extra lessons. Said he thought the boy +would turn out an artist. Nice bit of money there is in that!" + +"What did you tell him?" Burton asked. + +"I told him to stop putting silly ideas into the child's head," Ellen +replied. "We don't want to make no artist of Alfred. Into an office +he's got to go as soon as he's passed his proper standard, and that's +what I told his schoolmaster. Calling Alf a genius, indeed!" + +"Is this all that's troubling you?" Burton inquired calmly. + +"All?" Ellen cried. "Bless my soul, as though it wasn't enough! A nice +harmless boy as ever was until that day that you came down. You don't +seem to understand. He's like a little old man. Chooses his words, +corrects my grammar, keeps himself so clean you can almost smell the +soap. What I say is that it isn't natural in a child of his age." + +Burton smiled. + +"Well, really," he said, "I don't see anything to worry about in what +you have told me." + +"Don't you!" Ellen replied. "Well, just you listen to me and answer my +question. I left Alf alone with you while I changed my--while I looked +after the washing the day you came, and what I want to know is, did you +give him one of those things that you talked to me about?" + +"I certainly did not," Burton answered. + +Then a light broke in upon him. Ellen saw the change in his face. + +"Well, what is it?" she asked sharply. "I can see you know all about +it." + +"There were the two beans you threw out of the window," he said. "He +must have picked up one." + +"Beans, indeed!" Ellen replied, scornfully. "Do you mean to tell me +that a bean would work all this mischief in the child?" + +"I happen to know that it would." + +"Comes of picking up things in the street!" Ellen exclaimed. "I'll give +it him when I get back, I will!" + +"You must forgive me," Burton said, "but I really don't see what you +have to complain about. From what you tell me, I should consider the +boy very much improved." + +"Improved!" Ellen repeated. "An unnatural little impudent scallywag of +a child! You don't think I want a schoolmaster in knickerbockers about +the place all the time? Found fault with my clothes yesterday, hid some +of the ornaments in the parlor, and I caught him doing a sketch of a +woman the other day with not a shred of clothes on. Said it was a copy +of some statue in the library. It may be your idea of how a boy nine +years old should go on, but it isn't mine, and that's straight." + +Burton sighed. + +"My dear Ellen," he said, "we do not look at this matter from the same +point of view, but fortunately as you will say, unfortunately from my +point of view, the change in Alfred is not likely to prove lasting. You +will find in another few weeks that he will be himself again." + +"Don't believe it," Ellen declared. "He's as set in his ways now as a +little old man." + +Burton shook his head. + +"It won't last, I know it." + +"Lasts with you all right!" she snapped. + +Burton opened his little silver box. + +"It lasts with me only as long as these little beans last," he replied. +"You see, I have only two left. When they are gone, I shall be back +again." + +"If you think," Ellen exclaimed, "that you're going to march into +Clematis Villa just when you feel like it, and behave as though nothing +has happened, all I can say, my man, is that you're going to be +disappointed! You've kept away so long you can keep away for good. We +can do without you, me and Alf." + +Burton still held the box in his hand. + +"I suppose," he ventured slowly, "I couldn't persuade you to take one?" + +Ellen rose to her feet. She threw the scarf around her neck, buttoned +her gloves, and shook out her skirt. She picked up the satchel which +she had been carrying and prepared to depart. + +"If you say anything more to me about your beastly beans," she said, +"I'll lose my temper, and that's straight. Can you tell me how to bring +little Alf to himself again? That's all I want to know." + +"Time will do that, unfortunately," Burton assured her. "Where is he +this afternoon? + +"It's his half-holiday," Ellen replied, in a tone of disgust, "and where +do you think he's gone? Gone to a museum to look at some statues! The +schoolmaster called for him. They've gone off together. All I can say +is that if he don't turn natural again before long, you can have him. +He don't belong to me no longer." + +"I am willing to take the responsibility," Burton replied, "if it is +necessary. Will you let me give you some tea?" + +"I want nothing from you except my weekly money that the law provides +for," Ellen answered fiercely. "You can keep your tea. And mind what I +say, too. It's no use coming down to Clematis Villa and talking about +the effect of the bean having worn off and being yourself again. You +seem pretty comfortable here and you can stay here until I'm ready for +you. Oh, bother holding the door open!" she added, angrily. "I hate +such tricks! Get out of the way and let me pass. I can let myself out. +More fool me for coming! I might have known you'd have nothing sensible +to say." + +"I'm afraid," Burton admitted, "that we do rather look at this matter +from different points of view, but, as I told you before, you will find +very soon that Alfred will be just the same as he used to be." + +"If he don't alter," Ellen declared, looking back from the door, "you'll +find him here one day by Carter Patterson's, with a label around his +neck. I'm not one for keeping children about the place that know more +than their mothers. I give him another three weeks, and not a day +longer. What do you think was the last thing he did? Went and had his +hair cut--wanted to get rid of his curl, he said." + +"I can't blame him for that," Burton remarked, smiling. "I never +thought it becoming. Will you shake hands, Ellen, before you go?" + +"I won't!" she replied, drawing up her skirt in genteel fashion. "I +want nothing to do with you. Only, if he don't alter, well, just you +look out, for you'll find him on your doorstep." + +She departed in a "Lily of the Valley" scent and little fragments of +purple fluff. Burton threw himself into an easy-chair. + +"If one could only find the tree," he muttered to himself. "What a +life for the boy! Poor little chap!" + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AN AMAZING TRANSFORMATION + +The novel which was to bring immortal fame and, incidentally, freedom +from all financial responsibilities, to Burton, came back within a week, +with a polite note which he was at first inclined to accept as some +consolation until he found that it was stereotyped. Within a few hours +it was despatched to another firm of publishers, taken at random from +the advertisement columns of the Times. An hour or two afterwards +Alfred arrived, with no label around his neck, but a veritable truant. +Of the two he was the more self-possessed as he greeted his amazed +parent. + +"I am sorry if you are angry about my coming, father," he said, a little +tremulously. "Something seems to have happened to mother during the +last few days. Everything that I do displeases her." + +"I am not angry," Burton declared, after a moment's amazed silence. +"The only thing is," he added, glancing helplessly around, "I don't know +what to do with you. I have no servants here and only my one little +bed." + +The child smiled. He appeared to consider these matters unimportant. + +"You eat things sometimes, I suppose, daddy?" he said, apologetically. +"I left home before breakfast this morning and it took me some time to +find my way here." + +"Sit down for five minutes," Burton directed him, "and I'll take you out +somewhere." + +Burton was glad to get into the privacy of his small bedroom and sit +down for a moment. The thing was amazing enough when it had happened to +himself. It was, perhaps, more amazing still to watch its effect upon +Mr. Waddington. But certainly this was the most astounding development +of all! The child was utterly transformed. There was no sign of his +mother's hand upon his clothes, his neatly brushed hair or his shiny +face. His eyes, too, seemed to have grown bigger. Alfred had been a +vulgar little boy, addicted to slang and immoderately fond of noisy +games. Burton tried to call him back to his mind. It was impossible to +connect him in any way with the child whom, through a crack in the door, +he could see standing upon a chair the better to scrutinize closely the +few engravings which hung upon the wall. Without a doubt, a new +responsibility in life had arrived. To meet it, Burton had a little +less than two pounds, and the weekly money to send to Ellen within a few +days. He took Alfred out to luncheon. + +"I am afraid," he said, beginning their conversation anew, "that even if +I am able to keep you with me for a short time, you will find it +exceedingly dull." + +"I do not mind being dull in the least, father," the boy replied. +"Mother is always wanting me to play silly games out in the street, with +boys whom I don't like at all." + +"I used to see you playing with them often," his father reminded him. + +The child looked puzzled. He appeared to be trying to recollect +something. + +"Daddy, some things in the world seem so funny," he said, thoughtfully. +"I know that I used to like to play with Teddy Miles and Dick, hopscotch +and marbles, and relievo. Relievo is a very rough game, and marbles +makes one very dirty and dusty. Still, I know that I used to like to +play those games. I don't want to now a bit. I would rather read. If +you are busy, daddy, I shan't mind a bit. Please don't think that you +will have to play with me. I want to read, I shall be quite happy +reading all the time. Mr. Denschem has given me a list of books. +Perhaps you have some of them. If not, couldn't we get some out of a +library?" + +Burton looked at the list which the boy produced, and groaned to +himself. + +"My dear Alfred," he protested, "these books are for almost grown-up +people." + +The boy smiled confidently. + +"Mr. Denschem gave me the list, father," he repeated simply. + +After lunch, Burton took the boy round to Mr. Waddington's office. Mr. +Waddington was deep in a book of engravings which he had just purchased. +He welcomed Burton warmly and gazed with surprise at the child. + +"Alfred," his father directed, "go and sit in that easy-chair for a few +minutes. I want to talk to Mr. Waddington." + +The child obeyed at once. His eyes, however, were longingly fixed upon +the book of engravings. + +"Perhaps you would like to have a look at these?" Mr. Waddington +suggested. + +Alfred held out his hands eagerly. + +"Thank you very much," he said. "It is very kind of you. I am very +fond of this sort of picture." + +Burton took Mr. Waddington by the arm and led him out into the +warehouse. + +"Whose child is that?" the latter demanded curiously. + +"Mine," Burton groaned. "Can you guess what has happened?" + +Mr. Waddington looked puzzled. + +"You remember the day I went down to Garden Green? You gave me two +beans to give to Ellen and the child. It was before we knew that their +action was not permanent." + +"I remember quite well," Mr. Waddington confessed. + +"You remember I told you that Ellen threw them both into the street? A +man who was wheeling a fruit barrow picked up one. I told you about +that?" + +"Yes!" + +"This child picked up the other," Burton declared, solemnly. + +Mr. Waddington stared at him blankly. "You don't mean to tell me," he +said, "that this is the ill-dressed, unwashed, unmannerly little brat +whom your wife brought into the office one day, and who turned the ink +bottles upside down and rubbed the gum on his hands?" + +"This is the child," Burton admitted. + +"God bless my soul!" Mr. Waddington muttered. + +They sat down together on the top of a case. Neither of them found +words easy. + +"He's taken to drawing," Burton continued slowly, "hates the life at +home, goes out for walks with the schoolmaster. He's got a list of +books to read--classics every one of them." + +"Poor little fellow!" Mr. Waddington said to himself. "And to think +that in three weeks or a month--" + +"And in the meantime," Burton interrupted, "here he is on my hands. +He's run away from home--as I did. I don't wonder at it. What do you +advise me to do, Mr. Waddington?" + +"What can you do?" Mr. Waddington replied. "You must keep him until--" + +"Upon children," Burton said thoughtfully, "the effect may be more +lasting. No news, I suppose, of the tree?" + +Mr. Waddington shook his head sorrowfully. "I've had a private +detective now working ever since that day," he declared. "The man +thinks me, of course, a sort of lunatic, but I have made it worth his +while to find it. I should think that every child in the neighborhood +has been interviewed. What about the novel?" + +"Come back from the publishers," Burton replied. "I have sent it away +to some one else." + +Mr. Waddington looked at him compassionately. + +"You were relying upon that, were you not?" + +"Entirely," Burton admitted. "If I don't earn some money before +Saturday, I shan't know how to send the three pounds to Ellen." + +"You had better," Mr. Waddington said gently, accept a trifling loan. + +"Not if I can help it," Burton answered, hastily. "Thank you all the +same, Mr. Waddington, but I would rather not. We will see what +happens. I am going back now to try and write something." + +They returned to the office. Burton pointed towards the easy-chair. + +"Look!" + +Mr. Waddington nodded. Alfred had propped up the book of engravings +before him, was holding a sheet of paper on the blotting-pad, and with a +pencil was intently copying one of the heads. They crossed the room and +peered over his shoulder. For an untrained child it was an amazing +piece of work. + +"It is a Botticelli head," Mr. Waddington whispered. "Look at the +outline." + +The boy glanced up and saw them standing there. He excused himself +gracefully. + +"You don't mind, sir, do you?" he asked Mr. Waddington. "I took a +sheet of paper from your office. This head was so wonderful, I wanted +to carry away something that would remind me of it." + +"If you like," Mr. Waddington offered, "I will lend you the book of +engravings. Then when your father is busy you could make copies of some +that please you." + +The boy's cheeks were pink and his eyes soft. + +"How lovely!" he exclaimed. "Father, may I have it?" + +He left the office with the book clasped under his arm. On the way +home, Burton bought him some drawing-paper and pencils. For the +remainder of the afternoon they both worked in silence. Of the two, the +boy was the more completely engrossed. Towards five o'clock Burton made +tea, which they took together. Alfred first carefully washed his hands, +and his manners at table were irreproachable. Burton began to feel +uncomfortable. He felt that the spirit of some older person had come to +him in childlike guise. There was so little to connect this boy with +the Alfred of his recollections. In looking over his work, too, Burton +was conscious of an almost awed sense of a power in this child's fingers +which could have been directed by no ordinary inspiration. From one to +another of those prints, the outlines of which he had committed to +paper, the essential quality of the work, the underlying truth, seemed +inevitably to be reproduced. There were mistakes of perspective and +outline, crudities, odd little touches, and often a failure of +proportion, and yet that one fact always remained. The meaning of the +picture was there. The only human note about the child seemed to be +that, looking at him shortly after tea-time, Burton discovered that he +had fallen asleep in his chair. + +Burton took up his hat and stole softly out of the room. As quickly as +he could, he made his way to the offices of the Piccadilly Gazette and +sought his friend the sub-editor. The sub-editor greeted him with a +nod. + +"Heard about your novel yet?" he inquired. + +"I had it back this morning," his caller replied. "I have sent it away +somewhere else. I have written you a little study of 'The Children of +London.' I hope you will like it." + +The sub-editor nodded and glanced it through. He laid it down by his +side and for the first time there seemed to be a shadow of hesitation in +his tone. + +"Don't force yourself, Burton," he advised, looking curiously at his +contributor. "We will use this in a day or two. You can apply at the +cashier's office for your cheque when you like. But if you don't mind +my saying so, there are little touches here, repetitions, that might be +improved, I think." + +Burton thanked him and went home with money in his pocket. He undressed +the boy, who sleepily demanded a bath, put him to sleep in his own bed, +and threw himself into an easy-chair. It was late, but he had not +troubled to light a lamp. He sat for hours looking out into the +shadows. A new responsibility, indeed, had come into life. He was +powerless to grapple with it. The grotesqueness of the situation +appalled him. How could he plan or dream like other men when the +measure of the child's existence, as of his own, could be counted by +weeks? For the first time since his emancipation he looked back into +the past without a shudder. If one had realized, if one had only taken +a little pains, would it not have been possible to have escaped from the +life of bondage by less violent but more permanent means? It was only +the impulse which was lacking. He sat dreaming there until he fell into +a deep sleep. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +DOUBTS + +Mr. Bomford in his town clothes was a strikingly adequate reflection of +the fashion of the times. From the tips of his patent boots, his neatly +tied black satin tie, his waistcoat with its immaculate white slip, to +his glossy silk hat, he was an entirely satisfactory reproduction. The +caretaker who admitted him to Burton's rooms sighed as she let him in. +He represented exactly her ideal of a gentleman. + +"Mr. Burton and the little boy are both in the sitting-room, sir," she +announced, opening the door. "A gentleman to see you, sir." + +Burton looked up from his writing-table for a moment somewhat vaguely. +Mr. Bomford, who had withdrawn his glove, held out his hand. + +"I trust, Mr. Burton, that you have not entirely forgotten me," he +said. "I had the pleasure of dining with you a short time ago at +Professor Cowper's. You will doubtless remember our conversation?" + +Burton welcomed his visitor civilly and motioned him to a seat. He was +conscious of feeling a little disturbed. Mr. Bomford brought him once +more into touch with memories which were ever assailing him by night and +by day. + +"I have taken the liberty of calling upon you, Mr. Burton," the +newcomer continued, setting down his silk hat upon a corner of the +table, and lifting his coat-tails preparatory to sinking into a chair, +"because I believe that in the excitement of our conversation a few +nights ago, we did not do adequate justice to the sentiments +which--er--provoked our offer to you." + +Mr. Bomford sat down with the air of a man who has spoken well. He was +thoroughly pleased with his opening sentence. + +"It did not occur to me," Burton replied, "that there was any +possibility of misunderstanding anything you or Professor Cowper said. +Still, it is very kind of you to come and see me." + +Alfred, who was drawing in colored chalks at the other end of the room, +rose up and approached his father. + +"Would you like me to go into the other room, father?" he asked. "I can +leave my work quite easily for a time, and I have several books there." + +Mr. Bomford screwed an eyeglass into his eye and looked across at the +child. + +"What an extraordinarily--forgive my remark, Mr. Burton--but what an +extraordinarily well-behaved child! Is it possible that this is your +boy?" + +Alfred turned his head and there was no doubt about the relationship. +He, too, possessed the deep-set eyes with their strange, intense glow, +the quivering mouth, the same sensitiveness of outline. + +"Yes, this is my son," Burton admitted, quietly. "Go and shake hands +with Mr. Bomford, Alfred." + +The child crossed the room and held out his hand with grave +self-possession. + +"It is very kind of you to come and see father," he said. "I am afraid +that sometimes he is very lonely here. I will go away and leave you to +talk." + +Mr. Bomford fumbled in his pocket. + +"Dear me!" he exclaimed. "Dear me! Ah, here is a half-crown! You must +buy some chocolates or something to-morrow, young man. Or a gun, eh? +Can one buy a gun for half-a-crown?" + +Alfred smiled at him. + +"It is very kind of you, sir," he said slowly. "I do not care for +chocolate or guns, but if my father would allow me to accept your +present, I should like very much to buy a larger drawing block." + +Mr. Bomford looked at the child and looked at his father. + +"Buy anything you like," he murmured weakly,--"anything you like at +all." + +The child glanced towards his father. Burton nodded. + +"Certainly you may keep the half-crown, dear," he assented. "It is one +of the privileges of your age to accept presents. Now run along into +the other room, and I will come in and fetch you presently." + +The child held out his hand once more to Mr. Bomford. + +"It is exceedingly kind of you to give me this, sir," he said. "I can +assure you that the drawing block will be a great pleasure to me." + +He withdrew with a little nod and a smile. Mr. Bomford watched him +pass into the inner room, with his mouth open. + +"God bless my soul, Burton!" he exclaimed. "What an extraordinary +child!" + +Burton laughed, a little hoarsely. + +"A few weeks ago," he said, "that boy was running about the streets with +greased hair, a butcher's curl, a soiled velveteen suit, a filthy lace +collar, dirty hands, torn stockings, playing disreputable games with all +the urchins of the neighborhood. He murdered the Queen's English every +time he spoke, and spent his pennies on things you suck. His mother +threw two of the beans I had procured with great difficulty for them +both into the street. He picked one up and ate it--a wretched habit of +his. You see the result." + +Mr. Bomford sat quite still and breathed several times before he spoke. +It was a sign with him of most intense emotion. + +"Mr. Burton," he declared, "if this is true, that child is even a +greater testimony to the efficacy of your--your beans, than you +yourself." + +"There is no doubt," Burton agreed, "that the change is even greater." + +There was a knock at the door. Burton, with a word of excuse, crossed +the room to open it. The postman stood there with a packet. It was his +novel returned once more. He threw it on to a table in the corner and +returned to his place. + +"Mr. Burton," his visitor continued, "for the first time in my +life--and I may say that I have been accustomed to public speaking and +am considered to have a fair choice of words--for the first time in my +life I confess that I find myself in trouble as to exactly how to +express myself. I want to convince you. I am myself entirely and +absolutely convinced as to the justice of the cause I plead. I want you +to reconsider your decision of the other night." + +Burton shook his head. + +"I am afraid," he said, uneasily, "that that is not possible." + +Mr. Bomford cleared his throat. He was only externally a fool. + +"Mr. Burton," he declared, "you are an artist. Your child has the +makings of a great artist. Have you no desire to travel? Have you no +desire to see the famous picture galleries and cities of the Continent, +cities which have been the birthplaces of the men whose works you and +your son in days to come will regard with so much reverence?" + +"I should like to travel very much indeed," Burton admitted. + +"It is the opportunity to travel which we offer you," Mr. Bomford +reminded him. "It is the opportunity to surround yourself with +beautiful objects, the opportunity to make your life free from +anxieties, a cultured phase of being during which, removed from all +material cares, you can--er--develop yourself and the boy in any +direction you choose." + +Mr. Bomford stopped and coughed. Again he was pleased with himself. + +"Money is only vulgar," he went on, "to vulgar minds. And remember +this--that underlying the whole thing there is Truth. The beans which +you and the boy have eaten do contain something of the miraculous. +Those same constituents would be blended in the preparation which we +shall offer to the public. Have you no faith in them? Why should you +not believe it possible that the ingredients which have made so great a +change in you and that child, may not influence for the better the whole +world of your fellow-creatures? Omit for a moment the reflection that +you yourself would benefit so much by the acceptance of my offer. +Consider only your fellow human creatures. Don't you realize--can't you +see that in acceding to our offer you will be acting the part of a +philanthropist?" + +"Mr. Bomford," Burton said, leaning a little forward, "in all your +arguments you forget one thing. My stock of these beans is already +perilously low. When they are gone, I remain no more what I hope and +believe I am at the present moment. Once more I revert to the +impossible: I become the auctioneer's clerk--a commonplace, material, +vulgar, objectionable little bounder, whose doings and feelings I +sometimes dimly remember. Can't you imagine what sort of use a person +like that would make of wealth? In justice to him, in justice to the +myself of the future, I cannot place such temptations in his way." + +Mr. Bomford was staggered. + +"I find it hard to follow you," he admitted. "You will not accept my +offer because you are afraid that when the effect of these beans has +worn off, you will misuse the wealth which will come to you--is that +it?" + +"That is the entire truth," Burton confessed. + +"Have you asked yourself," Mr. Bomford demanded, impressively, "whether +you have a right to treat your other self in this fashion? Your other +self will assuredly resent it, if you retain your memory. Your other +self would hate your present self for its short-sighted, quixotic folly. +I tell you frankly that you have not the right to treat your coming +self in this way. Consider! Wealth does not inevitably vulgarize. On +the contrary, it takes you away from the necessity of associating with +people calculated to depress and cramp your life. There are many points +of view which I am sure you have not adequately considered. Take the +case of our friend Professor Cowper, for instance. He is a poor man +with a scientific hobby in which he is burning to indulge. Why deprive +him of the opportunity? There is his daughter--" + +"I will reconsider the matter," Burton interrupted, hastily. "I cannot +say more than that." + +Mr. Bomford signified his satisfaction. + +"I am convinced," he said, "that you will come around to our way of +thinking. I proceed now to the second reason of my visit to you this +afternoon. Professor Cowper and his daughter are doing me the honor to +dine with me to-night at the Milan. I beg that you will join us." + +Burton sat for some time without reply. For a moment the strong wave of +humanity which swept up from his heart and set his pulses leaping, set +the music beating in the air, terrified him. Surely this could mean but +one thing! He waited almost in agony for the thoughts which might fill +his brain. + +"Miss Cowper," Mr. Bomford continued, "has been much upset since your +hasty departure from Leagate. She is conscious of some mistake--some +foolish speech." + +Burton drew a little sigh of relief. After all, what he had feared was +not coming. He saw the flaw, he felt even now the revulsion of feeling +with which her words had inspired him. Yet the other things remained. +She was still wonderful. It was still she who was the presiding genius +of that sentimental garden. + +"You are very kind," he murmured. + +"We shall expect you," Mr. Bomford declared, "at a quarter past eight +this evening." + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +CONDEMNED! + +To Burton, who was in those days an epicure in sensations, there was +something almost ecstatic in the pleasure of that evening. They dined +at a little round table in the most desirable corner of the room--the +professor and Edith, Mr. Bomford and himself. The music of one of the +most famous orchestras in Europe alternately swelled and died away, +always with the background of that steady hum of cheerful conversation. +It was his first experience of a restaurant de luxe. He looked about +him in amazed wonder. He had expected to find himself in a palace of +gilt, to find the prevailing note of the place an unrestrained and +inartistic gorgeousness. He found instead that the decorations +everywhere were of spotless white, the whole effect one of cultivated +and restful harmony. The glass and linen on the table were perfect. +There was nowhere the slightest evidence of any ostentation. Within a +few feet of him, separated only by that little space of tablecloth and a +great bowl of pink roses, sat Edith, dressed as he had never seen her +before, a most becoming flush upon her cheeks, a new and softer +brilliancy in her eyes, which seemed always to be seeking his. They +drank champagne, to the taste and effects of which he was as yet +unaccustomed. Burton felt its inspiring effect even though he himself +drank little. + +The conversation was always interesting. The professor talked of +Assyria, and there was no man who had had stranger experiences. He +talked with the eloquence and fervor of a man who speaks of things which +have become a passion with him; so vividly, indeed, that more than once +he seemed to carry his listeners with him, back through the ages, back +into actual touch with the life of thousands of years ago, which he +described with such full and picturesque detail. Not at any time during +the dinner was the slightest allusion made to that last heated interview +which had taken place between the three men. Even when they sat out in +the palm court afterwards, and smoked and listened to the band and +watched the people, Mr. Bomford only distantly alluded to it. + +"I want to ask you, Mr. Burton," he said, "what you think of your +surroundings--of the restaurant and your neighbors on every side?" + +"The restaurant is very beautiful," Burton admitted. "The whole place +seems delightful. One can only judge of the people by their appearance. +That, at any rate, is in their favor." + +Mr. Bomford nodded approvingly. + +"I will admit, Mr. Burton," he continued, leaning a little towards him, +"that one of my objects in asking you to dine this evening, apart from +the pleasure of your company, was to prove to you the truth of one of my +remarks the other evening--that the expenditure of money need not +necessarily be associated with vulgarity. This is a restaurant which +only the rich could afford to patronize save occasionally, yet you see +for yourself that the prominent note here is a subdued and artistic +tastefulness. The days of loud colors and of the flamboyant life are +past. Money to-day is the handmaiden to culture." + +Exceedingly pleased with his speech, Mr. Bomford leaned back in his +chair and lighted a half-crown cigar. Presently, without any visible +co-operation on their part, a little scheme was carried into effect by +the professor and Mr. Bomford. The latter rose and crossed to the +other side of the room to speak to some friends. A few moments later he +beckoned to the professor. Edith and Burton were alone. She drew a +deep sigh of relief and turned towards him as though expecting him to +say something. Burton, however, was silent. He had never seen her +quite like this. She wore a plain white satin dress and a string of +pearls about her neck, which he saw for the first time entirely exposed. +The excitement of the evening had brought a delicate flush to her face; +the blue in her eyes was more wonderful here, even, than out in the +sunlight. Amid many toilettes of more complicated design, the exquisite +and entire simplicity of her gown and hair and ornaments was delightful. + +"You are quiet this evening," she whispered. "I wish I could know what +you are thinking of all the time." + +"There is nothing in my thoughts or in my heart," he answered, "which I +would not tell you if I could. Evenings like this, other evenings which +you and I have spent together in still more beautiful places, have been +like little perfect epochs in an imperfect life. Yet all the time one +is haunted. I am haunted here to-night, even, as I sit by your side. I +move through life a condemned man. I know it for I have proved it. +Before very long the man whom you know, who sits by your side at this +moment, who is your slave, dear, must pass." + +"You can never altogether change," she murmured. + +His hands clasped the small silver box in his pocket. + +"In a few months," he said hoarsely, "unless we can find the missing +plant, I shall be again the common little clerk who came and peered over +your hedge at you in the summer." + +She smiled a little incredulously. + +"Even when you tell me so," she insisted, "I cannot believe it." + +He drew his chair closer to hers. He looked around him nervously, the +horror was in his eyes. + +"Since I saw you last," he continued, "I have been very nearly like it. +I couldn't travel alone, I bought silly comic papers, I played nap with +young men who talked of nothing but their 'shop' and their young ladies. +I have been to a public-house, drunk beer, and shaken hands with the +barmaid. I was even disappointed when one of them--a creature with +false hair, a loud, rasping voice and painted lips--was not there. Just +in time I took one of my beans and became myself again, but Edith, I +have only two more. When they are gone there is an end of me. That is +why I sit here by your side at this moment and feel myself a condemned +man. I think that when I feel the change coming I shall throw myself +over into the river. I could not bear the other life again!" + +"Absurd!" she declared. + +"If I believed," he went on, "that I could carry with me across that +curious boundary enough of decency, enough of my present feelings, to +keep us wholly apart, I would be happier. It is one of the terrors of +my worst moments when I think that in the months or years to come I may +again be tempted--no, not I, but Alfred Burton of Garden Green may be +tempted--to look once more across the hedge for you." + +She smiled reassuringly at him. + +"You do not terrify me in the least. I shall ask you in to tea." + +He groaned. + +"My speech will be Cockney and my manners a little forward," he said, in +a tone of misery. "If I see your piano I shall want to vamp." + +"I think," she murmured, "that for the sake of the Alfred Burton who is +sitting by my side to-night, I shall still be kind to you. Perhaps you +will not need my sympathy, though. Perhaps you will adapt yourself +wholly to your new life when the time comes." + +He shook his head. + +"There are cells in one's memory," he muttered. "I don't understand--I +don't know how they get there--but don't you remember that time last +summer when I was picnicking with my common friends? We were drinking +beer out of a stone jug, we were singing vulgar songs, we were revelling +in the silly puerilities of a bank holiday out of doors. And I saw your +face and something came to me. I saw for a moment over the wall. Dear, +I am very sure that if I go back there will be times when I shall see +over the wall, and my heart will ache and the whole taste of life will +be like dust between my teeth." + +She leaned towards him. + +"It is your fault if I say this," she whispered. "It is you yourself +who have prepared the way. Why not make sure of riches? The world can +give so much to the rich. You can buy education, manners, taste. +Anything, surely, would be better than taking up the life of an +auctioneer's clerk once more? With riches you can at least get away +from the most oppressive forms of vulgarity." + +"I wish I could believe it," he replied. "The poor man is, as a rule, +natural. The rich man has the taste of other things on his palate; he +has looked over the wrong wall, he apes what he sees in the wrong +garden." + +"Not always," she pleaded. "Don't you believe that something will +remain of these splendid months of yours--some will power, some faint +impulse towards the choicer ways of life? Oh, it really must be so!" +she went on, more confidently. "I am sure of it. I think of you as you +are now, how carefully you control even your emotions, how sensitive you +always are in your speech, and I know that you could never revert +entirely to those other days. You may slip back, and slip back a long +way, but there would always be something to keep you from the depths." + +Her eyes were glowing. Her fingers deliberately touched his for a +moment. + +"It is wonderful to hope that it may be so," he sighed. "Even as I sit +here and remember that awful picnic party, I remember, too, that +something drew me a little away from the others to gaze into your garden +and at you. There was something, even then, which kept me from being +with them while I looked, and I know that at that moment, at the moment +I looked up and met your eyes, I know that there was no vulgar thought +in my heart." + +"Dear," she said, "with every word you make me the more inclined to +persist. I honestly believe that father and Mr. Bomford are right. It +is your duty. You owe it to yourself to accept their offer." + +He sat for several minutes without speech. + +"If I could only make you understand!" he went on at last. "Somehow, I +feel as though it would be making almost a vulgar use of something which +is to me divine. These strange little things which Mr. Bomford would +have me barter for money, brought me out of the unclean world and showed +me how beautiful life might be--showed me, indeed, what beauty really +is. There is no religion has ever brought such joy to the heart of a +man, nor any love, nor any of the great passions of the world have +opened such gates as they have done for me. You can't imagine what the +hideous life is like--the life of vulgar days, of ugly surroundings, the +dull and ceaseless trudge side by side with the multitude across the +sterile plain, without the power to raise one's eyes, without the power +to stretch out one's arms and feel the throb of freedom in one's pulses. +If I die to-morrow, I shall at least have lived for a little time, +thanks to these. Can you wonder that I think of them with reverence? +Yet you ask me to make use of one of them to help launch upon the world +a patent food, something built upon the credulity of fools, something +whose praises must be sung in blatant advertisements, desecrating the +pages of magazines, gaping from the hoardings, thrust inside the chinks +of human simplicity by the art of the advertising agent. Edith, it is a +hard thing, this. Do try and realize how hard it is. If there be +anything in the world divine, if there be anything sacred at all, +anything to lift one from the common way, it is what you ask me to +sacrifice." + +"You are such a sentimentalist, dear," she whispered. "You need have no +share in the commercial part of this. The money can simply keep you +while you write, or help you to travel." + +"It will lead that other fellow," he groaned, "into no end of mischief." + +The professor and Mr. Bomford returned. They talked for a little time +together and then the party broke up. As they waited for Edith to get +her cloak, Burton spoke the few words which they were both longing to +hear. + +"Mr. Bomford," he announced, "and professor, I should like to see you +to-morrow. I am going to think over this matter to-night once more. It +is very possible that I may see my way clear to do as you ask." + +"Mr. Burton, sir," the professor said, grasping his hand, "I +congratulate you. I felt sure that your common sense would assert +itself. Let me assure you of one thing, too. Indirectly you will be +the cause of marvelous discoveries, enlightening discoveries, being made +as to the source of some of that older civilization which still +bewilders the student of prehistoric days." + +Mr. Bomford had less to say but he was quite as emphatic. + +"If you only think hard enough, Mr. Burton," he declared, "you can't +make a mistake." + +He saw them into the motor, Edith in a cloak of lace which made her seem +like some dainty, fairylike creature as she stepped from the pavement +into a corner of the landaulette. Afterwards, he walked with uplifted +heart through the streets and back to his rooms. He let himself in with +a mechanical turn of the key. On the threshold he stood still in sudden +amazement. The lights were all turned on, the room was in rank +disorder. Simmering upon the hearth were the remains of his novel; +upset upon the table several pots of paint. Three chairs were lashed +together with a piece of rope. On a fourth sat Alfred, cracking a +home-made whip. His hands were covered with coal-dust, traces of which +were smeared upon his cheeks. There were spots of ink all down his +clothes, his eyes seemed somehow to have crept closer together. There +were distinct signs of a tendency on the part of his hair to curl over a +certain spot on his forehead. He looked at his father like a whipped +hound but he said never a word. + +"What on earth have you been doing, Alfred?" Burton faltered. + +The boy dropped his whip and put his finger in his mouth. He was +obviously on the point of howling. + +"You left me here all alone," he said, in an aggrieved tone. "There was +no one to play with, nothing to do. I want to go back to mother; I want +Ned and Dick to play with. Don't want to stop here any longer." + +He began to howl. Burton looked around once more at the scene of his +desolation. He moved to the fireplace and gazed down at the charred +remnants of his novel. The boy continued to howl. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +MENATOGEN, THE MIND FOOD + +It had been a dinner of celebration. The professor had ransacked his +cellar and produced his best wine. He had drunk a good deal of it +himself--so had Mr. Bomford. A third visitor, Mr. Horace Bunsome, a +company promoter from the city, had been even more assiduous in his +attentions to a particular brand of champagne. + +Burton had been conscious of a sense of drifting. The more human side +of him was paramount. The dinner was perfect; the long, low +dining-room, with its bowls of flowers and quaint decorations, +delightful; the wine and food the best of their sort. Edith, looking +like an exquisite picture, was sitting by his side. After all, if the +end of things were to come this way, what did it matter? She had no +eyes for any one else, her fingers had touched his more than once. The +complete joy of living was in his pulses. He, too, had yielded to the +general spirit. + +Edith left them late and reluctantly. Then the professor raised his +glass. There was an unaccustomed color in his parchment-white cheeks. +His spectacles were sitting at a new angle, his black tie had wandered +from its usual precise place around to the side of his neck. + +"Let us drink," he exclaimed, "to the new company! To the new Mind +Food, to the new scientific diet of the coming century! Let us drink to +ourselves, the pioneers of this wonderful discovery, the manufacturers +and owners-to-be of the new food, the first of its kind created and +designed to satisfy the moral appetite." + +"We'll have a little of that in the prospectus," Mr. Horace Bunsome +remarked, taking out his notebook. "It sounds mighty good, professor." + +"It sounds good because it is true, sir," Mr. Cowper asserted, a little +severely. "Your services, Mr. Bunsome, are necessary to us, but I beg +that you will not confound the enterprise in which you will presently +find yourself engaged, with any of the hazardous, will-o'-the-wisp +undertakings which spring up day by day, they tell me, in the city, and +which owe their very existence and such measure of success as they may +achieve, to the credulity of fools. Let me impress upon you, Mr. +Bunsome, that you are, on this occasion, associated with a genuine and +marvelous discovery--the scientific discovery, sir, of the age. You are +going to be one of those who will offer to the world a genuine--an +absolutely genuine tonic to the moral system." + +Mr. Bunsome nodded approvingly. + +"The more I hear you talk," he declared, "the more I like the sound of +it. People are tired of brain foods and nerve foods. A food for the +moral self! Professor, you're a genius." + +"I am nothing of the sort, sir," the professor answered. "My share in +this is trifling. The discovery is the discovery of our friend here," +he continued, indicating Burton. "The idea of exploiting it is the idea +of Mr. Bomford. . . . My young friend Burton, you, at least, must +rejoice with us to-night. You must rejoice, in your heart, that our +wise counsels have prevailed. You must feel that you have done a great +and a good action in sharing this inheritance of yours with millions of +your fellow-creatures." + +Burton leaned a little forward in his place. + +"Professor," he said, "remember that there are only two small beans, +each less than the size of a sixpence, which I have handed over to you. +As to the qualities which they possess, there is no shadow of doubt +about them for I myself am a proof. Yet you take one's breath away with +your schemes. How could you, out of two beans, provide a food for +millions?" + +The professor smiled. + +"Science will do it, my dear Mr. Burton," he replied, with some note of +patronage in his tone, "science, the highways of which to you are an +untrodden road. I myself am a chemist. I myself, before I felt the +call of Assyria, have made discoveries not wholly unimportant. This +afternoon I spent four hours in my laboratory with one of your beans. I +tell you frankly that I have discovered constituents in that small +article which absolutely stupefy me, qualities which no substance on +earth that I know of, in the vegetable or mineral world, possesses. Yet +within a week, the chemist whom I have engaged to come to my assistance +and I will assuredly have resolved that little bean into a definite +formula. When we have done that, the rest is easy. Its primary +constituents will form the backbone of our new food. If we are only +able to reproduce them in trifling quantities, then we must add a larger +proportion of some harmless and negative substance. The matter is +simple." + +"No worry about that, that I can see," Mr. Bunsome remarked. "So long +as we have this testimony of Mr. Burton's, and the professor's +introduction and explanation, we don't really need the bean at all. +We've only got to print his story, get hold of some tasteless sort of +stuff that no one can exactly analyze, and the whole thing's done so far +as we are concerned. Of course, whether it takes on or not with the +public is always a bit of a risk, but the risk doesn't lie with us to +control. It depends entirely upon the advertisements. If we are able +to engage Rentoul, and raise enough money to give him a free hand for +the posters as well as the literary matter, why then, I tell you, this +moral food will turn out to be the greatest boom of the generation." + +Mr. Cowper moved a little uneasily in his chair. + +"Yours, Mr. Bunsome," he said, "is purely the commercial point of view. +So far as Mr. Burton and I are concerned, and Mr. Bomford, too, you +must please remember that we are profoundly and absolutely convinced of +the almost miraculous properties of this preparation. Its romantic +history is a thing we have thoroughly attested. Our only fear at the +present moment is that too large a quantity of the constituents of the +beans which Mr. Burton has handed over to me, may be found to be +distilled from Oriental herbs brought by that old student from the East. +However, of that in a few days' time we shall of course be able to speak +more definitely." + +Mr. Bunsome coughed. + +"Anyway," he declared, "that isn't my show. My part is to get the +particulars of this thing into shape, draft a prospectus, and engage +Rentoul if we can raise the money. I presume Mr. Burton will have no +objection to our using his photograph on the posters?" + +Burton shivered. + +"You must not think of such a thing!" he said, harshly. + +Mr. Bunsome was disappointed. + +"A picture of yourself as you were as an auctioneer's clerk," he +remarked, thoughtfully,--"a little gay in the costume, perhaps, +rakish-looking hat and tie, you know, and that sort of thing, leaning +over the bar, say, of a public-house--and a picture of yourself as you +are now, writing in a library one of those little articles of yours--the +two together, now, one each side, would have a distinct and convincing +effect." + +Burton rose abruptly to his feet. + +"These details," he said, "I must leave to Mr. Cowper. You have the +beans. I have done my share." + +The professor caught hold of his arm. + +"Sit down, my dear fellow--sit down," he begged. "We have not finished +our discussion. The whole subject is most engrossing. We cannot have +you hurrying away. Mr. Bunsome's suggestion is, of course, hideously +Philistine, but, after all, we want the world to know the truth." + +"But the truth about me," Burton protested, "may not be the truth about +this food. How do you know that you can reproduce the beans at all +in an artificial manner?" + +"Science, my young friend--science," the professor murmured. "I tell +you that the problem is already nearly solved." + +"Supposing you do solve it," Burton continued, "supposing you do produce +a food which will have the same effect as the beans, do you realize what +you are doing? You will create a revolution. You will break up +life-long friendships, you will revolutionize business, you will swamp +the divorce courts, you will destroy the whole fabric of social life for +at least a generation. Truth is the most glorious thing which the brain +of man ever conceived, but I myself have had some experience of the +strange position one occupies who has come under its absolutely +compelling influence. The world as it is run to-day could never exist +for a week without its leaven of lies." + +Mr. Bunsome looked mystified. The professor, however, inclined his +head sympathetically. + +"It is my intention," he remarked, "in drafting my final prescription, +that the action of the food shall not be so violent. If the quantities +are less strenuously mixed, the food, as you can surmise, will be so +much the milder. A gentle preference for truth, a dawning appreciation +of beauty, a gradual withdrawal from the grosser things of life--these +may, perhaps, be conceived after a week's trial of the food. Then a +regular course of it--say for six months or so--would build up these +tendencies till they became a part of character. The change, as you +see, would not be too sudden. That is my idea, Bomford. We have not +heard much from you this evening. What do you think?" + +"I agree with you entirely, professor," Mr. Bomford pronounced. "For +many reasons it will be as well, I think, to render the food a little +less violent in its effects." + +Mr. Bunsome began to chuckle to himself. An imperfectly developed +sense of humor was asserting itself. + +"It's a funny idea!" he exclaimed. "The more one thinks of it, the +funnier it becomes. Supposing for a moment--you all take it so +seriously--supposing for a moment that the food were to turn out to +really have in it some of these qualities, what a mess a few days of it +would make of the Stock Exchange! It would mean chaos, sir!" + +"It is our hope," the professor declared, sternly, "our profound hope, +that this enterprise of ours will not only bring great fortunes to +ourselves but will result in the moral elevation of the whole world. +There are medicines--patent medicines, too--which have cured thousands +of bodily diseases. Why should we consider ourselves too sanguine when +we hope that ours, the first real attempt to minister to the physical +side of morals, may be equally successful?" + +Burton stole away. In the garden he found Edith. They sat together +upon a seat and she allowed her hand to remain in his. + +"I never knew father so wrapped up in anything as he is in this new +scheme," she whispered. "He is even worse than Mr. Bomford." + +Burton shivered a little as he leaned back and closed his eyes. + +"It is a nightmare!" he groaned. "Have you seen all those +advertisements of brain foods? The advertisement columns of our +magazines and newspapers are full of them. Their announcements grin +down upon us from every hoarding. Do you know that we are going to do +the same thing? We are going to contribute our share to the defilement +of journalism. We are going to make a similar appeal to the quack +instincts of the credulous." + +She laughed softly at him. + +"You foolish person," she murmured. "Father has been talking to me +about it for hours at a time. You are taking it for granted that they +will not be able to transmit the qualities of the bean into this new +food, but father is sure that they will. Supposing they succeed, why +should you object? Why should not the whole world share in this thing +which has come to you?" + +"I do not know," he answered, a little wearily, "and yet nothing seems +to be able to alter the way I feel about it. It seems as though we were +committing sacrilege. Your father and Mr. Bomford, and now this man +Bunsome, are entirely engrossed in the commercial side of it. If it +were to be a gift to the world, a real philanthropic enterprise, it +would be different." + +"The world wasn't made for philanthropists, dear," she reminded him. +"We are only poor human beings, and in our days we have to eat and drink +and love." + +"If only Mr. Bomford--" he began-- + +She laid her fingers warningly upon his arm. Mr. Bomford was coming +across the lawn towards them. "If you go off alone with him," Burton +whispered, "I'll get back the beans and swamp the enterprise. I swear +it." + + +"If you leave us alone together," she answered softly, "I'll never speak +to you again." + +She sprang lightly to her feet. + +"Come," she declared, "it is chilly out here to-night. We are all going +back into the drawing-room. I am going to make you listen while I +sing." + +Mr. Bomford looked dissatisfied. He was flushed with wine and he spoke +a little thickly. + +"If I could have five minutes--" he began. + +Edith shook her head. + +"I am much too cold," she objected. "Besides, I want to hear Mr. +Bunsome talk about the new discovery. Have you found a title for the +food yet?" + +She walked rapidly on with Burton. Mr. Bomford followed them. + +"We have decided," he said, "to call it Menatogen." + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +DISCONTENT + +Burton gave a little start of surprise as he entered Mr. Waddington's +office. Seated on the chair usually occupied by clients, was Ellen. + +"My dear Burton," Mr. Waddington exclaimed, with an air of some relief, +"your arrival is most opportune! Your wife has just paid me a visit. +We were discussing your probable whereabouts only a moment ago." + +"Rooms all shut up," Ellen declared, "and not a word left behind nor +nothing, and little Alfred come down with a messenger boy, in such a +mess as never was!" + +"I hope he arrived safely?" Burton inquired. "I found it necessary to +send him home." + +"He arrived all right," Ellen announced. + +"You found a change in him?" Burton asked. + +"If you mean about his finicking ways, I do find a change," Ellen +replied, "and a good job, too. He's playing with the other boys again +and using those silly books to shoot at with a catapult, which to my +mind is a sight more reasonable than poring over them all the time. I +never did see a man," she continued, with a slow smile, "so taken aback +as Mr. Denschem, when he came to take him to the museum yesterday. +Little Alf wouldn't have nothing to do with him at any price." + +Burton sighed. + +"I am afraid," he said politely, "that you may have been inconvenienced +by not hearing from me on Saturday." + +"'Inconvenienced' is a good word," Ellen remarked. "I've managed to pay +my way till now, thank you. What I came up to know about is this!" she +went on, producing a copy of the Daily Press from her reticule and +smoothing it out on her knee. + +Burton groaned. He looked anxiously at Mr. Waddington. + +"Have you read it, sir?" he asked. + +Mr. Waddington shook his head. + +"I make it a rule," he said, "to avoid the advertisement columns of all +newspapers. These skilfully worded announcements only serve to remind +us how a man may prostitute an aptitude, if not an art, for sheer +purposes of gain. It is my theory, Mrs. Burton," he went on, +addressing her, "that no one has a right to use his peculiar capacities +for the production of any sort of work which is in the least unworthy; +which does not aim--you follow me, I am sure?--at the ideal." + +Ellen stared at him for a moment. + +"I don't follow you," she declared, brusquely, "and I don't know as I +want to. About that advertisement, is it you, Alfred, who's to be one +of the directors of this Menatogen or whatever they call it? Are they +your experiences that are given here?" + +"They are!" Burton groaned. + +Mr. Waddington, with a heavy frown, took the paper. + +"What is this, Burton?" he demanded. + +"You had better read it," Burton replied, sinking into a chair. "I +mentioned it to you a little time ago. You see, the scheme has finally +come to fruition." + +Mr. Waddington read the advertisement through, word by word. One +gathered that the greatest discovery for many thousands of years would +shortly be announced to the world. A certified and unfailing tonic for +the moral system was shortly to be placed upon the market. A large +factory had been engaged for the manufacture of the new commodity, and +distributing warehouses in a central neighborhood. First come, first +served. Ten and sixpence a jar. The paper fluttered out of Mr. +Waddington's fingers. He looked across at Burton. Burton sank forward +in his chair, his head fell into his hands. + +"What I want to know," Ellen continued, in a tone of some excitement, +"is--what is there coming to us for this? I never did give you credit, +Alfred--not in these days, at any rate--for so much common sense. I see +they have made you a director. If there's anything in those rotten +beans of yours, you've more in your head than I thought, to be trying to +make a bit of use of them. What are you getting out of it?" + +There was a dead silence. Mr. Waddington had the appearance of a man +who has received a shock. Burton withdrew his hands from before his +face. He was looking pale and miserable. + +"I am getting money," he admitted slowly. "I am getting a great deal of +money." + +Ellen nodded. Her face betokened the liveliest interest. Mr. +Waddington sat like a musician listening to an ill-played rendering of +his favorite melody. Burton thrust his hand into his pocket. + +"I failed to send you your three pounds on Saturday, Ellen," he said. +"Here are thirty--three hundred, if you will. Take them and leave me +for a little time." + +It is not too much to say that Ellen grabbed at the notes. She counted +them carefully and thrust them into her reticule. Her manner was +indicating a change. The hard contempt had gone from her face. She +looked at her husband with something like awe. After all, this was the +signal and final proof of greatness--he had made money! + +"Aren't you pleased about it?" she asked sharply. "Not that I ever +thought you'd have the wits to turn anything like this into real, solid +account!" + +Burton set his teeth. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that I cannot quite explain how I feel about +it. There will be plenty of money for you--for some time, at any rate. +You can buy the house, if you like, or buy one somewhere else." + +"What about you?" she demanded. "Ain't you coming back?" + +He did not move. She rose to her feet, raised her veil and came over to +where he was sitting. He smelt the familiar odor of "Lily of the +Valley" perfume, blended with the odor of cleaned gloves and benzine. +The air around him was full of little violet specks from her boa. She +laid her hand upon his shoulder. + +"Come and be a man again, Alfred," she begged, a little awkwardly. +"You've got good common sense at the bottom still, I am sure. Why don't +you give up this tomfoolery and come home to me and the boy? Or shall I +stay up," she went on, "and have a little evening in town? You've got +the money. Why not let's go to a restaurant and a music-hall +afterwards? We might ask the Johnsons. Little Alf would be all right, +and I put on my best hat, in case." + +Burton looked wearily up. + +"Ellen," he said, "I am afraid I can't make you understand. It is true +that I shall probably be rich, but I hate the thought of it. I only +want to be left alone. I have made a mistake, and yet, Heaven knows, it +was hard for me to escape! Before very long," he added, his voice +sinking a little lower, "it is quite likely that you will recognize me +again completely. I dare say then I shall be very glad to go to the +theatre with you and to meet the Johnsons. Just now I--I can't." + +Ellen began to tremble. + +"Before long you'll be very glad, eh?" she exclaimed. "Well, we'll see +about that! I'm sick of this begging and praying of you to behave like +a reasonable person. If there's another woman who's come along, why, +out with it and let me know?" + +"You don't understand," Mr. Waddington interrupted, gently. "Your +husband and I have both come under the influence of these--these beans. +It is not possible for us to live as we have been accustomed to live." + +"Well, I like that!" Ellen declared. "Do you mean to say this is going +on?" + +Burton looked up. + +"On the contrary," he announced, "it is coming to an end--with me, at +any rate. Until it does come to an end, it will be kinder of you, and +better for both of us, for you to keep away." + +She stood for a moment quite still. Her back was turned to them, her +shoulders were moving. When she spoke, however, her tone was still hard +and unsympathetic. + +"Very well," she said, "I'll get back to Garden Green. But mind you, my +man," she went on, "none of your sneaking back home just when you're +ready for it! Next time it shall be as I choose. I'm no wishy-washy +creature, to be your wife one moment and something you can't bear even +to look at, the next. No, I don't want none of your monkey tricks, +opening the door!" she went on angrily, as Burton rose to see her out. +"Stay where you are. I can find my way out of the place." + +She departed, slamming the door after her. Mr. Waddington came and sat +down by his former clerk's side. + +"Tell me, Burton," he asked kindly, "how did you come to do this thing?" + +"It was the professor and the girl," he murmured. "They made it seem so +reasonable." + +"It is always the girl," Mr. Waddington reflected. "The girl with the +blue eyes, I suppose, whom you told me about? The girl of the garden?" + +Burton nodded. + +"Her father is a scientific man," he explained. "He wants money badly +to go on with some excavations in Assyria. Between them all, I +consented. Waddington," he went on, looking up, "I was beginning to get +terrified. I had only two beans left. I have parted with them. They +could have lasted me only a few months. I thought if I had to go back, +I would go back free from any anxieties of work in an office. Wealth +must help one somehow. If I can travel, surround myself with books, +live in the country, I can't ever be so bad, I can't fall back where I +was before. What do you think, Mr. Waddington? You must have this on +your mind sometimes. You yourself have only six or seven months left." + +Mr. Waddington sighed. + +"Do you think that it isn't a nightmare for me, too?" he said gently. +"Only I am afraid that wealth will not help you. The most vulgar and +ignorant people I know are among the wealthiest. There is a more +genuine simplicity and naturalness among the contented and competent +poor than any other class. You were wrong, Burton. Riches breed +idleness, riches tempt one to the purchase of false pleasure. You would +have been better back upon your stool in my office." + +"It is too late," Burton declared, a little doggedly. "I came to ask +you if you wanted to join? For two more beans they would make you, too, +a director, and give you five thousand shares." + +Mr. Waddington shook his head. + +"Thank you, Burton," he said, "I would sooner retain my beans. I have +no interest in your enterprise. I think it hateful and abominable. I +cannot conceive," he went on, "how you, Burton, in your sane mind, could +have stooped so low as to associate yourself in any way with the thing." + +"You don't know what my temptations were!" Burton groaned. + +"And therefore," Mr. Waddington replied, "I will not judge you. Yet do +not think that I should ever allow myself to consider your proposition, +even for a moment. Tell me, you say you've parted with your last +bean--" + +"And my time is almost up!" Burton interrupted, beating the table before +him. "Only this morning, for an instant, I was afraid!" + +"Try and keep your thoughts away from it," Mr. Waddington advised. +"Let me show you these new prints. By the bye, where is your wonderful +little boy?" + +"Gone--back to his mother!" Burton answered grimly. "Didn't you hear us +mention him? I left him in my rooms one night and when I came back the +whole place was in disorder. He was in a filthy state and sobbing for +his home." + +"My poor fellow!" Mr. Waddington murmured. "Come, I will take you with +me to lunch. We can spend the afternoon in my library. I have some new +treasures to show you. We will lose ourselves. For a short time, at +least, you shall forget." + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE END OF A WONDERFUL WORLD + +Mr. Waddington turned his head away quickly and glanced half guiltily +towards his companion. To his amazement, Burton had been gazing in the +same direction. Their eyes met. Burton coughed. + +"A remarkably fine woman, that," Mr. Waddington declared. + +Burton looked at him in astonishment. + +"My dear Mr. Waddington!" he exclaimed. "You cannot really think so!" + +They both turned their heads once more. The woman in question was +standing upon the doorstep of a milliner's shop, waiting for a taxicab. +In appearance she was certainly somewhat striking, but her hair was +flagrantly dyed, her eyebrows darkened, her costume daring, her type +obvious. + +"A very fine woman indeed, I call her," Mr. Waddington repeated. +"Shouldn't mind taking her to lunch. Good mind to ask her." + +Burton hesitated for a moment. Then a curious change came into his own +face. + +"She is rather fetching," he admitted. + +The woman suddenly smiled. Mr. Waddington pulled himself together. + +"It serves us right," he said, a little severely, and hastening his +companion on. "I was looking at her only as a curiosity." + +Burton glanced behind and move on reluctantly. + +"I call her jolly good-looking," he declared. + +Mr. Waddington pretended not to hear. They turned into Jermyn Street. + +"There are some vases here, at this small shop round the corner, which I +want you particularly to notice, Burton," he continued. "They are +perfect models of old Etruscan ware. Did you ever see a more beautiful +curve? Isn't it a dream? One could look at a curve like that and it +has something the same effect upon one as a line of poetry or a single +exquisite thought." + +Burton glanced into the window and looked back again over his shoulder. +The lady, however, had disappeared. + +"Hm!" he remarked. "Very nice vase. Let's get on to lunch. I'm +hungry." + +Mr. Waddington stopped short upon the pavement and gripped his +companion's arm. + +"Burton," he said, a trifle hesitatingly, "you don't think--you don't +imagine--" + +"Not a bit of it!" Burton interrupted, savagely. "One must be a little +human now and then. By Jove, old man, there are some ties, if you like! +I always did think a yellow one would suit me." + +Mr. Waddington pressed him gently along. + +"I am not sure," he muttered, "that we are quite in the mood to buy +ties. I want to ask you a question, Burton." + +"Go ahead." + +"You were telling me about this wonderful scheme of your friend the +professor's, to make--Menatogen, I think you said. Did you part with +both your beans?" + +"Both," Burton replied, almost fiercely. "But I've another fortnight or +so yet. It can't come before--it shan't!" + +"You expect, I suppose, to make a great deal of money?" Mr. Waddington +continued. + +"We shall make piles," Burton declared. "I have had a large sum already +for the beans. My pockets are full of money. Queer how light-hearted +it makes you feel to have plenty of money. It's a dull world, you know, +after all, and we are dull fellows. Think what one could do, now, with +some of the notes I have in my pocket! Hire a motor-car, go to some +bright place like the _Metropole_ at Brighton--a bright, cheerful, +sociable place, I mean, where people who look interesting aren't above +talking to you. And then a little dinner, and perhaps a music-hall +afterwards, and some supper, and plenty to eat and drink--" + +"Burton!" Mr. Waddington gasped. "Stop! Stop at once!" + +"Why the dickens should I stop?" Burton demanded. + +Mr. Waddington was looking shocked and pained. "You don't mean to tell +me," he exclaimed, "that this is your idea of a good time? That you +would go to a hotel like the _Metropole_ and mix with the people whom +you might meet there, and eat and drink too much, and call it enjoyment? +Burton, what has come to you?" + +Burton was looking a little sullen. + +"It's all very well," he grumbled. "We're too jolly careful of +ourselves. We don't get much fun. Here's your poky little restaurant. +Let's see what it looks like inside." + +They entered, and a _maitre d'hotel_ came hurrying to meet them. Burton, +however, shook his head. + +"This place is no good, Waddington," he decided. "Only about +half-a-dozen stodgy old people here, no music, and nothing to look at. +Let's go where there's some life. I'll take you. My lunch. Come +along." + +Mr. Waddington protested but faintly. He murmured a word of apology to +the _maitre d'hotel_, whom he knew, but Burton had already gone on ahead +and was whistling for a taxi. With a groan, Mr. Waddington noticed +that his hat had slipped a little on one side. There was a distinct +return of his rakish manner. + +"The _Milan!_" Burton ordered. "Get along as quick as you can. We are +hungry." + +The two men sat side by side in the taxicab. Mr. Waddington watched +his companion in half-pained eagerness. Burton certainly was looking +much more alert than earlier in the morning. + +"I tell you money's a great thing," the latter went on, producing a +cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. "I don't know why I should +have worried about this little business adventure. I call it a +first-class idea. I'd like to be able to take taxies whenever I wanted +them, and go round to the big restaurants and sit and watch the people. +Come to a music-hall one night, Mr. Waddington, won't you? I haven't +seen anything really funny for a long time." + +"I'm afraid I should like to," Mr. Waddington began,--"I mean I should +be delighted." + +"What are you afraid about?" Burton asked quickly. + +Mr. Waddington mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. + +"Burton," he said hoarsely, "I think it's coming on! I'm glad we are +going to the _Milan_. I wish we could go to a music-hall to-night. +That woman was attractive!" + +Burton set his teeth. + +"I can't help it," he muttered. "I can't help anything. Here goes for +a good time!" + +He dismissed the taxi and entered the Milan, swaggering just a little. +They lunched together and neither showed their usual discrimination in +the selection of the meal. In place of the light wine which Mr. +Waddington generally chose, they had champagne. They drank Benedictine +with their coffee and smoked cigars instead of cigarettes. Their +conversation was a trifle jerky and Mr. Waddington kept on returning to +the subject of the Menatogen Company. + +"You know, I've three beans left, Burton," he explained, towards the end +of the meal. "I don't know why I should keep them. They'd only last a +matter of seven months, anyway. I've got to go back sometime. Do you +think I could get in with you in the company?" + +"We'll go and--Why, there is Mr. Bunsome!" Burton exclaimed. "Mr. +Bunsome!" + +The company promoter was just passing their table. He turned around at +the sound of his name. For a moment he failed to recognize Burton. +There was very little likeness between the pale, contemptuous young man +with the dreamy eyes, who had sat opposite to him at the professor's +dinner table a few nights ago, and this flushed young man who had just +attracted his attention, and who had evidently been lunching exceedingly +well. It was part of his business, however, to remember faces, and his +natural aptitude came to his assistance. + +"How do you do, Mr. Burton?" he said. "Glad to meet you again. +Spending some of the Menatogen profits, eh?" + +"Friend of mine here--Mr. Waddington," Burton explained. "Mr. Cowper +knows all about him. He owns the rest of the beans, you know." + +Mr. Bunsome was at once interested. + +"I'm delighted to meet you, Mr. Waddington!" he declared, holding out +his hand. "Indirectly, you are connected with one of the most marvelous +discoveries of modern days." + +"I should like to make it 'directly,'" Mr. Waddington said. "Do you +think my three beans would get me in on the ground floor?" + +Mr. Bunsome was a little surprised. + +"I understood from the professor," he remarked, "that your friend was +not likely to care about entering into this?" + +Burton, for a moment, half closed his eyes. + +"I remember," he said. "Last night I didn't think he would care about +it. I find I was mistaken." + +Mr. Bunsome looked at his watch. + +"I am meeting Mr. Cowper this afternoon," he said, "and Mr. Bomford. +I know that the greatest difficulty that we have to face at present is +the very minute specimens of this wonderful--er--vegetable, from which +we have to prepare the food. I should think it very likely that we +might be able to offer you an interest in return for your beans. Will +you call at my office, Mr. Waddington, at ten o'clock to-morrow +morning--number 17, Norfolk Street?" + +"With pleasure," Mr. Waddington assented. "Have a drink?" + +Mr. Bunsome did not hesitate--it was not his custom to refuse any offer +of the sort! He sat down at their table and ordered a sherry and +bitters. Mr. Waddington seemed to have expanded. He did not mention +the subject of architecture. More than once Mr. Bunsome glanced with +some surprise at Burton. The young man completely puzzled him. They +talked about Menatogen and its possibilities, and Burton kept harking +back to the subject of profits. Mr. Bunsome at last could contain his +curiosity no longer. + +"Say," he remarked, "you had a headache or something the other night, I +think? Seemed as quiet as they make 'em down at the old professor's. I +tell you I shouldn't have known you again." + +Burton was suddenly white. Mr. Waddington plunged in. + +"Dry old stick, the professor, anyway, from what I've heard," he said. +"Now don't you forget, Mr. Bunsome. I shall be round at your office at +ten o'clock sharp to-morrow, and I expect to be let into the company. +Three beans I've got, and remember they're worth something. They took +that old Egyptian Johnny--him and his family, of course--a matter of a +thousand years to grow, and there's no one else on to them. Why, +they're unique, and they do the trick, too--that I can speak for. Paid +the bill, Burton?" + +Burton nodded. The two men shook hands with Mr. Bunsome and prepared +to leave. They walked out into the Strand. + +"Got anything to do this afternoon particular?" Mr. Waddington asked, +after a moment's hesitation. + +"Not a thing," Burton replied, puffing at his cigar and unconsciously +altering slightly the angle of his hat. + +"Wouldn't care about a game of billiards at the Golden Lion, I suppose?" +Mr. Waddington suggested. + +"Rather!" Burton assented. "Let's buy the girls some flowers and take a +taxi down. Go down in style, eh? I'll pay." + +Mr. Waddington looked at his companion--watched him, indeed, hail the +taxi--and groaned. A sudden wave of half-ashamed regret swept through +him. It was gone, then, this brief peep into a wonderful world! His +own fall was imminent. The click of the balls was in his ears, the +taste of strong drink was inviting him. The hard laugh and playful +familiarities of the buxom young lady were calling to him. He sighed +and took his place by his companion's side. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +MR. WADDINGTON ALSO + +With his hat at a very distinct angle indeed, with a fourpenny cigar, +ornamented by a gold band, in his mouth, Burton sat before a hard-toned +piano and vamped. + +"Pretty music, The Chocolate Soldier," he remarked, with an air of +complete satisfaction in his performance. + +Miss Maud, who was standing by his side with her hand laid lightly upon +his shoulder, assented vigorously. + +"And you do play it so nicely, Mr. Burton," she said. "It makes me +long to see it again. I haven't been to the theatre for heaven knows +how long!" + +Burton turned round in his stool. "What are you doing to-night?" he +asked. "Nothing," the young lady replied, eagerly. "Take me to the +theatre, there's a dear." + +"Righto!" he declared. "I expect I can manage it." + +Miss Maud waltzed playfully around the room, her hands above her head. +She put her head out of the door and called into the bar. + +"Milly, Mr. Burton's taking me to the theatre to-night. Why don't you +get Mr. Waddington to come along? We can both get a night off if you +make up to the governor for a bit." + +"I'll try," was the eager reply,--"that is, if Mr. Waddington's +agreeable." + +Maud came back to her place by the piano. She was a plump young lady +with a pink and white complexion, which suffered slightly from lack of +exercise and fresh air and over-use of powder. Her hair was yellower +than her friend's, but it also owed some part of its beauty to +artificial means. In business hours she was attired in an exceedingly +tight-fitting black dress, disfigured in many places by the accidents of +her profession. + +"You are a dear, Mr. Burton," she declared. "I wonder what your wife +would say, though?" she added, a little coyly. + +"Not seeing much of Ellen just lately," Burton replied. "I'm living up +in town alone." + +"Oh!" she remarked. "Mr. Burton, I'm ashamed of you! What does that +mean, I wonder? You men!" she went on, with a sigh. "One has to be so +careful. You are such deceivers, you know! What's the attraction?" + +"You!" he whispered. + +"What a caution you are!" she exclaimed. "I like that, too, after not +coming near me for months! What are you looking so scared about, all of +a sudden?" + +Burton was looking through the garishly papered walls of the +public-house sitting-room, out into the world. He was certainly a +little paler. + +"Haven't I been in for months?" he asked softly. + +She stared at him. + +"Well, I suppose you know!" she retorted. "Pretty shabby I thought it +of you, too, after coming in and making such a fuss as you used to +pretty well every afternoon. I don't like friends that treat you like +that. Makes you careful when they come round again. I'd like to know +what you've been doing?" + +"Ah!" he said, "you will never know that. Perhaps I myself shall never +know that really again. Get me a whiskey and soda, Maud. I want a +drink." + +"I should say you did!" the young woman declared, pertly. "Sitting +there, looking struck all of a heap! Some woman, I expect, you've been +gone on. You men are all the same. I've no patience with you--not a +bit. If it wasn't," she added, taking down the whiskey bottle from the +shelf, "that life's so precious dull without you, I wouldn't have a +thing to say to you--no, not me nor Milly either! We were both talking +about you and Mr. Waddington only a few nights ago, and of the two I'm +not sure that he's not the worst. A man at his age ought to know his +mind. Special Scotch--there you are, Mr. Burton. Hope it will do you +good." + +Burton drank his whiskey and soda as though he needed it. He was +suddenly pale, and his fingers were idle upon the keys of the +pianoforte. The girl looked at him curiously. + +"Not quite yourself, are you?" she inquired. "Don't get chippy before +this evening. I don't think I'll give you anything else to drink. When +a gentleman takes me out, I like him to be at his best." + +Burton came back. It was a long journey from the little corner of the +world into which his thoughts had strayed, to the ornate, +artificial-looking parlor, with the Turkey-carpet upon the floor and +framed advertisements upon the walls. + +"I am sorry," he said. "I had forgotten. I can't take you out +to-night--I've got an engagement. How I shall keep it I don't know," he +went on, half reminiscently, "but I've got to." + +The young woman looked at him with rising color. "Well, I declare!" she +exclaimed. "You're a nice one, you are! You come in for the first time +for Lord knows how long, you agree to take me out this evening, and +then, all of a sudden, back out of it! I've had enough of you, Mr. +Burton. You can hook it as soon as you like." + +Burton rose slowly to his feet. + +"I am sorry," he said simply. "I suppose I am not quite myself to-day. +I was just thinking how jolly it would be to take you out and have a +little supper afterwards, when I remembered--I remembered--that +engagement. I've got to go through with it." + +"Another girl, I suppose?" she demanded, turning away to look at herself +in the mirror. + +He shivered. He was in a curious state of mind but there seemed to him +something heretical in placing Edith among the same sex. + +"It is an engagement I can't very well break," he confessed. "I'll come +in again." + +"You needn't," she declared, curtly. "When I say a thing, I mean it. +I've done with you." + +Burton crossed the threshold into the smaller room, where Mr. +Waddington appeared to be deriving a certain amount of beatific +satisfaction from sitting in an easy-chair and having his hand held by +Miss Milly. They both looked at him, as he entered, in some surprise. + +"What have you two been going on about?" the young lady asked. "I heard +Maud speaking up at you. Some lovers' quarrel, I suppose?" + +The moment was passing. Burton laughed--a little hardly, perhaps, but +boisterously. + +"Maud's mad with me," he explained. "I thought I could take her out +to-night. Remembered afterwards I couldn't. Say, old man, you're going +it a bit, aren't you?" he continued, shaking his head at his late +employer. + +Mr. Waddington held his companion's hand more tenderly than ever. + +"At your age," he remarked, severely, "you shouldn't notice such things. +Milly and I are old friends, aren't we?" he added, drawing her to him. + +"Well, it's taken a bit of making up my mind to forgive you," the young +lady admitted. "What a pity you can't bring Maud along to-night!" she +went on, addressing Burton. "We're going to Frascati's to dinner and +into the Oxford afterwards. Get along back and make it up with her. +You can easily break your other engagement." + +Burton swaggered back to the threshold of the other room. + +"Hi! Come along, Maudie!" he said. "I can't take you out to-night but +I'll take you to-morrow night, and I'll stand a bottle of champagne now +to make up for it." + +"Don't want your champagne," the young lady began;--"leastways," she +added, remembering that, after all, business was supposed to be her +first concern, "I won't say 'no' to a glass of wine with you, but you +mustn't take it that you can come in here and do just as you please. I +may go out with you some other evening, and I may not. I don't think I +shall. To-night just happens to suit me." + +With a last admiring glance at herself in the mirror, she came into the +room. Burton patted her on the arm and waved the wine list away. + +"The best is good enough," he declared,--"the best in the house. Just +what you like yourself. Price don't matter just now." + +He counted a roll of notes which he drew from his trousers pocket. The +two girls looked at him in amazement. He threw one upon the table. + +"Backed a horse?" Maud asked. "Legacy?" Milly inquired. Burton, with +some difficulty, relit the stump of his cigar. + +"Bit of an advance I've just received from a company I'm connected +with," he explained. "Would insist on my being a director. I'm trying +to get Waddington here into it," he added, condescendingly. "Jolly good +thing for him if I succeed, I can tell you." + +Miss Maud moved away in a chastened manner. She took the opportunity to +slip upstairs and powder her face and put on clean white cuffs. +Presently she returned, carrying the wine on a silver tray, with the +best glasses that could be procured. + +"Here's luck!" Burton exclaimed, jauntily. "Can't drink much myself. +This bubbly stuff never did agree with me and I had a good go at it +last night." + +Maud filled up his glass, nevertheless, touched it with her own, and +drank, looking at him all the time with an expression in her eyes upon +which she was wont to rely. + +"Take me out to-night, dear," she whispered. "I feel just like having a +good time to-night. Do!" + +Burton suddenly threw his glass upon the floor. The wine ran across the +carpet in a little stream. Splinters of the glass lay about in all +directions. They all three looked at him, transfixed. + +"I am sorry," he said. + +He turned and walked out of the room. They were all too astonished to +stop him. They heard him cross the bar-room and they heard the door +close as he passed into the street. + +"Of all the extraordinary things!" Maud declared. + +"Well, I never!" Milly gasped. + +"If Mr. Burton calls that behaving like a gentleman--" Maud continued, +in a heated manner--Mr. Waddington patted her on the shoulder. + +"Hush, hush, my dear!" he said. "Between ourselves, Burton has been +going it a bit lately. There's no doubt that he's had a drop too much +to drink this afternoon. Don't take any notice of him. He'll come +round all right. I can understand what's the matter with him. You mark +my words, in two or three days he'll be just his old self." + +"Has he come into a fortune, or what?" Maud demanded. "He's left you, +hasn't he?" + +Mr. Waddington nodded. + +"He's found a better job," he admitted. "Kind of queer in his health, +though. I've been taken a little like it myself, but those sort of +things pass off--they pass off." + +Milly looked at him curiously. He was suddenly quiet. + +"Why, you're looking just like Mr. Burton did a few minutes ago!" she +declared. "What's the matter with you? Can you see ghosts?" Mr. +Waddington sat quite still. "Yes," he muttered, "I see ghosts!" + +They looked at him in a puzzled manner. Then Milly leaned towards him +and filled his glass with Wine. She touched his glass with her own, she +even suffered her arm to rest upon his shoulder. For a single moment +Mr. Waddington appeared to feel some instinct of aversion. He seemed +almost about to draw away. Then the mood passed. He drew her towards +him with a little burst of laughter, and raised his glass to his lips. + +"Here's fun!" he exclaimed. "Poor old Burton!" + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE REAL ALFRED BURTON + +Edith slipped out of her evening cloak and came into the foyer of the +Opera House, a spotless vision of white. For a moment she looked at her +cavalier in something like amazement. It did not need the red +handkerchief, a corner of which was creeping out from behind his +waistcoat, to convince her that some extraordinary change had taken +place in Burton. He was looking pale and confused, and his quiet +naturalness of manner had altogether disappeared. He came towards her +awkwardly, swinging a pair of white kid gloves in his hand. + +"Bit late, aren't you?" he remarked. + +"I am afraid I am a few minutes late," she admitted. "Until the last +moment father said he was coming. We shall have to go in very quietly." + +"Come along, then," he said. "I don't know the way. I suppose one of +these fellows will tell us." + +His inquiry, loud-voiced and not entirely coherent, received at first +scant attention from the usher to whom he addressed himself. They were +directed to their places at last, however. The house was in darkness, +and with the music Edith forgot, for a time, the slight shock which she +had received. The opera was Samson et Dalila, and a very famous tenor +was making his reappearance after a long absence. Edith gave herself up +to complete enjoyment of the music. Then suddenly she was startled by a +yawn at her side. Burton was sitting back, his hands in his pockets, +his mouth wide-open. + +"Mr. Burton!" she exclaimed softly. He had the grace to sit up. +"Long-winded sort of stuff, this," he pronounced, in an audible whisper. + +She felt a cold shiver of apprehension. As she saw him lounging there +beside her, her thoughts seemed to go back to the day when she had +looked with scornful disdain at that miserable picnic-party of trippers, +who drank beer out of stone jugs, and formed a blot upon the landscape. +Once more she saw the man who stood a little apart, in his loud clothes +and common cloth cap, saw him looking into the garden. She began to +tremble. What had she done--so nearly done! In spite of herself, the +music drew her away again. She even found herself turning towards him +once for sympathy. + +"Isn't it exquisite?" she murmured. + +He laughed shortly. + +"Give me The Chocolate Soldier," he declared. "Worth a dozen of this!" + +Suddenly she realized what had happened. Her anger and resentment faded +away. For the first time she wholly and entirely believed his story. +For the first time she felt that this miracle had come to pass. She was +no longer ashamed of him. She no longer harbored any small feelings of +resentment at his ill-bred attitude. A profound sympathy swept up from +her heart--sympathy for him, sympathy, too, for herself. When they +passed out together she was as sweet to him as possible, though he put +on a black bowler hat some time before it was necessary, and though his +red handkerchief became very much in evidence. + +"You will drive me down to Chelsea, won't you?" she begged. + +"Righto!" he replied. "I'll get one of these chaps to fetch a taxi." + +He succeeded in obtaining one, gleeful because he had outwitted some +prior applicant to whom the cab properly belonged. + +"Couldn't stop somewhere and have a little supper, could we?" he asked. + +"I am afraid not," she answered. "It wouldn't be quite the thing." + +He tried to take her hand. After a moment's hesitation she permitted +it. + +"Mr. Burton," she said softly, "do answer me one question. Did you +part with all your beans?" + +His hand went up to his forehead for a moment. + +"Yes," he replied, "both of them. I only had two, and it didn't seem +worth while keeping one. Got my pockets full of money, too, and they +are going to make me a director of Menatogen." + +"Do you feel any different?" she asked him. + +He looked at her in a puzzled way and, striking a match, lit a cigarette +without her permission. + +"Odd you should ask that," he remarked. "I do feel sort of queer +to-night--as though I'd been ill, or something of the sort. There are +so many things I can only half remember--at least I remember the things +themselves, but the part I took in them seems so odd. Kind of feeling +as though I'd been masquerading in another chap's clothes," he added, +with an uneasy little laugh. "I don't half like it." + +"Tell me," she persisted, "did you really find the music tiresome?" + +He nodded. + +"Rather," he confessed. "The Chocolate Soldier is my idea of music. I +like something with a tune in it. There's been no one to beat Gilbert +and Sullivan. I don't know who wrote this Samson and Delilah, but he +was a dismal sort of beggar, wasn't he? I like something cheerful. +Don't you want to come and have some supper, Edith? I know a place +where they play all the popular music." + +"No, thank you," she told him gravely. + +"You seem so cold and sort of stand-offish to-night," he complained, +coming a little closer to her. "Some of those nights down at your +place--can't remember 'em very well but I am jolly sure you were +different. What's happened? Mayn't I hold your fingers, even?" + +His arm would have been around her waist, but she evaded it firmly. + +"Don't you know what has happened?" she demanded, earnestly. "Don't you +really know?" + +"Can't say that I do," he admitted. "I've got a sort of feeling as +though I'd been all tied-up like, lately. Haven't been able to enjoy +myself properly, and gone mooning about after shadows. To-night I feel +just as though I were coming into my own again a bit. I say," he added, +admiringly, "you do look stunning! Come and have some supper--no one +will know--and let me drive you home afterwards. Do!" + +She shook her head. + +"I don't think you must talk to me quite like this," she said kindly. +"You have a wife, you know, and I am engaged to be married." + +He laughed, quite easily. + +"Never seen Ellen, have you?" he remarked. "She's a fine woman, you +know, although she isn't quite your style. She'd think you sort of pale +and colorless, I expect--no kind of go or dash about you." + +"Is that what you think?" Edith asked him, smiling. + +"You aren't exactly the style I've always admired," he confessed, "but +there's something about you," he added, in a puzzled manner,--"I don't +know what it is but I remember it from a year ago--something that seemed +to catch hold of me. I expect I must be a sentimental sort of Johnny +underneath. However, I do admire you, Edith, immensely. I only wish--" + +Again she evaded him. + +"Please do not forget Mr. Bomford," she begged. + +"That silly old ass!" Burton exclaimed. "Looks as though he'd swallowed +a poker! You're never going to marry him!" + +"I think that I shall," she replied. "At any rate, at present I am +engaged to him. Therefore, if you please, you must keep just a little +further away. I don't like to mention it, but I think--haven't you been +smoking rather too much?" + +He laughed, without a trace of sensitiveness. "I have been having +rather a day of it," he admitted. "But I say, Edith, if you won't come +to supper, I think you might let a fellow--" + +She drew back into her corner. + +"Mr. Burton," she said, "you must please not come near me." + +"But I want a kiss," he protested. "You'd have given me one the other +night. You'd have given me as many as I'd liked. You almost clung to +me--that night under the cedar tree." + +Her eyes for a moment were half closed. + +"It was a different world then," she whispered softly. "It was a +different Mr. Burton. You see, since then a curtain has come down. We +are starting a fresh act and I don't think I know you quite so well as I +did." + +"Sounds like tommyrot," he grumbled. + +The taxicab came to a standstill. The man got down and opened the door. +Burton half sulkily stepped out on to the pavement. + +"Well, here you are," he announced. "Can't say that I think much of you +this evening." + +She held out her hand. They were standing on the pavement now, in the +light of a gas-lamp, and with the chauffeur close at hand. She was not +in the least afraid but there was a lump in her throat. He looked so +very common, so far away from those little memories with which she must +grapple! + +"Mr. Burton," she said, "good-night! I want to thank you for this +evening and I want to ask you to promise that if ever you are sorry +because I persuaded you to sell those little beans, you will forgive me. +It was a very wonderful thing, you know, and I didn't understand. +Perhaps I was wrong." + +"Don't you worry," he answered, cheerfully. "That's all right, anyway. +It's jolly well the best thing I ever did in my life. Got my pockets +full of money already, and I mean to have a thundering good time with +it. No fear of my ever blaming you. Good-night, Miss Edith! My +regards to the governor and tell him I am all on for Menatogen." + +He gave his hat a little twist and stepped back into the taxi. + +"I will give my father your message," she told him, as the door opened +to receive her. + +"Righto!" Burton replied. "Leicester Square, cabby!" + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +RICHES AND REPENTANCE + +There was considerable excitement in Laurence Avenue when a few mornings +later Mr. Alfred Burton, in a perfectly appointed motor-car, drew up +before the door of Clematis Villa. In a very leisurely manner he +descended and stood looking around him for a moment in the front garden. + +"Poky little place," he said half to himself, having completed a +disparaging survey. "Hullo, Johnson! How are you?" + +Mr. Johnson, who, with a little bag in his hand, had just trudged a +mile to save a penny, looked with something like amazement at the +apparition which confronted him. Mr. Alfred Burton was arrayed in town +clothes of the most pronounced cut. His tail coat was exactly the right +length; his trousers, although the pattern was a little loud, were +exceedingly well cut. He wore patent boots with white gaiters, a +carefully brushed silk hat, and he carried in his hand a pair of yellow +kid gloves. He had a malacca cane with a gold top under his arm, and a +cigar at the usual angle in the corner of his mouth. No wonder that Mr. +Johnson, who was, it must be confessed, exceedingly shabby, took his +pipe from his mouth and stared at his quondam friend in amazement. + +"Hullo, Burton, you back again?" he exclaimed weakly. + +"I am back again just to settle up here," Mr. Burton explained, with a +wave of the hand. "Just run down in the car to take the missis out a +little way." + +Mr. Johnson held on to the railing tightly. + +"Your car?" + +"My car," Mr. Burton admitted, modestly. "Take you for a ride some +day, if you like. How's the wife?" + +"First-class, thanks," Mr. Johnson replied. "First-class, thank you, +Mr. Burton." + +Burton protested mildly. + +"No need to 'Mr. Burton' me, Johnson, old fellow! It shall never be said +of me that a great and wonderful rise in the world altered my feelings +towards those with whom I was once on terms of intimacy. I shall always +be glad to know you, Johnson. Thursday evening, isn't it? What are you +and the wife doing?" + +"I don't know," Johnson confessed, "that we are doing anything +particular. We shall turn up at the band, I suppose." + +"Good!" Mr. Burton said. "It will be our last Thursday evening in +these parts, I expect, but after I have taken the wife for a little spin +we'll walk round the band-stand ourselves. Perhaps we shall be able to +induce you and Mrs. Johnson to come back and take a little supper with +us?" + +Mr. Johnson pulled himself together. + +"Very kind of you, old cocky," he declared, tremulously. "Been striking +it thick, haven't you?" + +Burton nodded. + +"Dropped across a little thing in the city," he remarked, flicking the +dust from the sleeve of his coat. "Jolly good spec it turned out. They +made me a director. It's this new Menatogen Company. Heard of it?" + +"God bless my soul, of course I have!" Johnson exclaimed. "Millions in +it, they say. The shares went from par to four premium in half an hour. +I know a man who had a call of a hundred. He's cleared four hundred +pounds." + +Mr. Burton nodded in a most condescending manner. + +"That so?" he remarked. "I've a matter of ten thousand myself, besides +some further calls, but I'm not selling just yet. If your friend's got +any left, you can tell him from me--and I ought to know as I'm a +director--that the shares will be at nine before long. Shouldn't wonder +if they didn't go to twenty. It's a grand invention. Best thing I ever +touched in my life." + +Johnson had been finding it chilly a short time ago but he took off his +hat now and mopped his forehead. + +"Haven't been home lately, have you?" he remarked. + +"To tell you the truth," Mr. Burton explained, puffing at his cigar, +"this little affair has been taking up every minute of my time. I had +to take chambers in town to keep up with my work. Well, so long, +Johnson! See you later at the band-stand. Don't forget we shall be +expecting you this evening. May run you up to the west-end, perhaps, if +the missis feels like it." + +He nodded and proceeded on his way to the front door of his domicile. +Mr. Johnson, narrowly escaping an impulse to take off his hat, +proceeded on his homeward way. + +"Any one at home?" Mr. Burton inquired, letting himself in. + +There was no reply. Mr. Burton knocked with his gold-headed cane upon +the side of the wall. The door at the end of the passage opened +abruptly. Ellen appeared. + +"What are you doing there, knocking all the plaster down?" she demanded, +sharply. "If you want to come in, why can't you ring the bell? +Standing there with your hat on as though the place belonged to you!" + +Burton was a little taken aback. He recovered himself, however, secure +in the splendid consciousness of his irreproachable clothes and the +waiting motor-car. He threw open the door of the parlor. + +"Step this way a moment, Ellen," he said. She followed him reluctantly +into the room. He put his hand upon her shoulder to lead her to the +window. She shook herself free at once. + +"Hands off!" she ordered. "What is it you want?" + +He pointed out of the window to the magnificent memorial of his success. +She looked at it disparagingly. + +"What's that? Your taxicab?" she asked. "What did you keep him for? +You can get another one at the corner." + +Burton gasped. + +"Taxicab!" he exclaimed. "Taxicab, indeed! Look at it again. That's a +motor-car--my own motor-car. Do you hear that? Bought and paid for!" + +"Well, run away and play with it, then!" she retorted, turning as though +to leave the room. "I don't want you fooling about here. I'm just +getting Alfred's supper." Burton dropped his cigar upon the carpet. +Even when he had picked it up, he stood looking at her with his mouth a +little open. + +"You don't seem to understand, Ellen," he said. "Listen. I've come +back home. A share of that motor-car is yours." + +"Come back home," Ellen repeated slowly. + +"Exactly," he admitted, complacently. "I am afraid this is rather a +shock for you, but good news never kills, you know. We'll motor up to +the band presently and I've asked the Johnsons to supper. If you've +nothing in the house, we'll all go up to the west-end somewhere. . . . +What's the matter with you?" + +Ellen was looking at that moment positively handsome. Her cheeks were +scarlet and her eyes ablaze. + +"Alfred Burton," she declared, "the last few times I've seen you, I've +put you down as being dotty. Now I am sure of it. The sooner you're +out of this, the better, before I lose my temper." + +"But, my dear Ellen," he protested, soothingly, "I can assure you that +what I am telling you is the truth! I have become unexpectedly rich. A +fortunate stroke of business--the Menatogen Company, you know--has +completely altered our lives. You are naturally overcome--" + +"Naturally over-fiddlesticks!" Ellen interrupted. "Look here, my man, +I've had about enough of this. You come down here, thinking because +you've come to your senses, and because you've got new clothes and a +motor-car, that you can just sit down as though nothing had happened. +Just let me tell you this--you can't do it! You can leave your wife +because she can't stop you. You can stay away from her because she +can't drag you back. But you can't come and put on a new suit of +clothes and bring a motor-car and say 'I've come back,' and sit down at +your usual place and find everything just as you've left it. You can't +do that, Alfred Burton, and you must be a bigger fool even than you look +to imagine that you can!" + +"Ellen," he faltered, "don't you want me back?" + +"Not I!" she replied, fiercely. "Not you nor your motor-car nor your +money nor any part of you. Come swaggering in, dropping your cigar ash +over the place, and behaving as though you'd been a respectable person +all your life!" she continued, indignantly. "What right have you got to +think that your wife was made to be your slave or your trained dog, to +beg when you hold out a piece of biscuit, and go and lie down alone when +you don't want her. Send your three pounds a week and get out of it. +That's all I want to hear of you! You know the way, don't you?" + +Her outstretched forefinger pointed to the door. Burton had never felt +so pitifully short of words in his life. + +"I--I've asked the Johnsons to supper," he stammered, as he took up his +hat. + +"Take them to your west-end, then!" Ellen cried, scornfully. "Take them +riding in your motor-car. Why don't you tell the man to drive up and +down the avenue, that every one may see how fine you are! Would you +like to know just what I think of you?" + +Burton looked into her face and felt a singular reluctance to listen to +the torrent of words which he felt was ready to break upon his head. He +tried to hold himself a little more upright. + +"You will be sorry for this, Ellen," he said, with some attempt at +dignity. + +She laughed scornfully. + +"One isn't sorry at getting rid of such as you," she answered, and +slammed the door behind him. + +Burton walked with hesitating footsteps down the footpath. This was not +in the least the triumphal return he had intended to make! He stood for +a moment upon the pavement, considering. It was curious, but his +motor-car no longer seemed to him a glorious vehicle. He was distinctly +dissatisfied with the cut of his clothes, the glossiness of his silk +hat, his general appearance. The thought of his bank balance failed to +bring him any satisfaction whatever. He seemed suddenly, as clearly as +though he were looking into a mirror, to see himself with eyes. He +recognized even the blatant stupidity of his return, and he admired +Ellen more than he had ever admired her in his life. + +"Where to, sir?" his brand-new chauffeur asked. + +Burton pitched away his cigar. + +"Wait a moment," he said, and turning round, walked with firm footsteps +back to the house. He tried the door and opened it, looked into the +parlor and found it empty. He walked down the passage and pushed open +the door of the kitchen. Little Alfred's meal was ready on a tray, the +room was spotless and shining, but Ellen, with her head buried in her +hands, was leaning forward in her chair, sobbing. He suddenly fell on +his knees by her side. + +"Please forgive me, Ellen!" he cried, almost sobbing himself. "Please +forgive me for being such a rotter. I'll never--I promise that I'll +never do anything of the sort again." + +She looked up. He ventured to put his arm around her waist. She shook +herself free, very weakly. He tried again and with success. + +"I know I've made an idiot of myself," he went on. "I'd no right to +come down here like that. I just want you to forgive me now, that's +all. I didn't mean to swagger about being rich. I'm not enjoying it a +bit till you come along." + +Ellen raised her head once more. Her lips were' quivering, half with a +smile, although the tears were still in her eyes. + +"Sure you mean it?" she asked softly. + +"Absolutely!" he insisted. "Go and put on your hat with the feathers +and we'll meet the Johnsons and take them for a ride." + +"You don't like the one with the feathers," she said, doubtfully. + +"I like it now," he assured her heartily. "I'm fonder of you at this +moment, Ellen, than any one in the world. I always have been, really." + +"Stupid!" she declared. "I shall wear my hat with the wing and we +will call around at Saunders' and I can buy a motor veil. I always did +think that a motor veil would suit me. We'd better call at Mrs. +Cross's, too, and have her come in and cook the supper. Don't get into +mischief while I'm upstairs." + +"I'll come, too--and see little Alfred," he added, hastily. + +"Carry the tray, then, and mind where you're going," Ellen ordered. + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +A MAN'S SOUL + +The half-yearly directors' meeting of the Menatogen Company had just +been held. One by one, those who had attended it were taking their +leave. The auditor, with a bundle of papers under his arm, shook hands +cordially with the chairman--Alfred Burton, Esquire--and Mr. +Waddington, and Mr. Bomford, who, during the absence of the professor +in Assyria, represented the financial interests of the company. + +"A most wonderful report, gentlemen," the auditor pronounced,--"a +business, I should consider, without its equal in the world." + +"And still developing," Mr. Waddington remarked, impressively. + +"And still developing," the auditor agreed. "Another three years like +the last and I shall have the pleasure of numbering at least three +millionaires among my acquaintances." + +"Shall we--?" Mr. Burton suggested, glancing towards Waddington. + +Mr. Waddington nodded, but Mr. Bomford took up his hat. He was +dressed in the height of subdued fashion. His clothes and manners would +have graced a Cabinet Minister. He had, as a matter of fact, just +entered Parliament. + +"You will excuse me, gentlemen," he said. "I make it a rule never to +take anything at all in the middle of the day." + +He took his leave with the auditor. + +"Pompous old ass!" Mr. Waddington murmured. "A snob!" Mr. Alfred +Burton declared,--"that's what I call him! Got his eye on a place in +Society. Saw his name in the paper the other day a guest at Lady +Somebody's reception. Here goes, old chap--success to Menatogen!" + +Waddington drained his glass. + +"They say it's his wife who pushes him on so," he remarked. + +Mr. Burton's wine went suddenly flat. He drank it but without +enjoyment. Then he rose to his feet. + +"Well, so long, Waddington, old chap," he said. "I expect the missis is +waiting for me." + +Mrs. Burton was certainly waiting for her husband. She was sitting +back among the cushions of her Sixty horse-power Daimler, wrapped in a +motoring coat of the latest fashion, her somewhat brilliant coloring +only partially obscured by the silver-gray veil which drooped from her +motor bonnet. Burton took his place beside her almost in silence, and +they glided off. She looked at him curiously. + +"Meeting go off all right?" she asked, a little sharply. + +"Top hole," Mr. Burton replied. + +"Then what are you so glum about?" she demanded, suspiciously. "You've +got nothing to worry about that I can see." + +"Nothing at all," Mr. Burton admitted. + +"Very good report of Alfred came second post," Mrs. Burton continued. +"They say he'll be fit to enter Harrow next year. And an invitation to +dine, too, with Lady Goldstein. We're getting on, Alfred. The only +thing now is that country house. I wish we could find something to suit +us." + +"If we keep on looking," Burton remarked, "we are bound to come across +something sooner or later. If not, I must build." + +"I'm all for building," Mrs. Burton declared. "I don't care for mouldy +old ruins, with ivy and damp places upon the walls. I like something +fine and spick and span and handsome, with a tower to it, and a long +straight drive that you can see down to the road; plenty of stone work +about the windows, and good square rooms. As for the garden, well, let +that come. We can plant a lot of small trees about, and lay down a +lawn. I don't care about other folks' leavings in houses, and a lot of +trees around a place always did put me off. Have you told him where to +go to?" + +Burton shook his head. + +"I just told him to drive about thirty or forty miles into the +country," he said. "It doesn't matter in what direction, does it? We +may see something that will suit us." + +The car, with its splendid easy motion, sped noiselessly through the +suburbs and out into the country. It seemed to Mr. Burton that he must +have dozed. He had been up late the night before, and for several +nights before that. He was a little puffy about the cheeks and his eyes +were not so bright as they had been. He had developed a habit of dozing +off in odd places. When he awoke, he sat up with a start. He had been +dreaming. Surely this was a part of the dream! The car was going very +slowly indeed. On one side of him was a common, with bushes of flaming +gorse and clumps of heather, and little ragged plantations of pine +trees; and on his right, a low, old-fashioned house, a lawn of velvet, +and a great cedar tree; a walled garden with straight, box-bordered +paths, a garden full of old-fashioned flowers whose perfume seemed +suddenly to be tearing at some newly-awakened part of the man. He sat +up. He stared at the little seat among the rose bushes. Surely he was +back again, back again in that strange world, where the flavor of +existence was a different thing, where his head had touched the clouds, +where all the gross cares and pleasures of his everyday life had fallen +away! Was it the perfume of the roses, of the stocks, which had +suddenly appealed to some dormant sense of beauty? Or had he indeed +passed back for a moment into that world concerning which he had +sometimes strange, half doubtful thoughts? He leaned forward, and his +eyes wandered feverishly among the hidden places of the garden. The +seat was empty. Propped up against the hedge was a notice board: "This +House to Let." + +"What on earth are you staring at?" Mrs. Burton demanded, with some +acerbity. "A silly little place like that would be no use to us. I +don't know what the people who've been living there could have been +thinking about, to let the garden get into such a state. Fancy a nasty +dark tree like that, too, keeping all the sun away from the house! I'd +have it cut down if it were mine. What on earth are you looking at, +Alfred Burton?" + +He turned towards her, heavy-eyed. + +"Somewhere under that cedar tree," he said, "a man's soul was buried. I +was wondering if its ghost ever walked!" + +Mrs. Burton lifted the speaking-tube to her lips. + +"You can take the next turning home, John," she ordered. + +The man's hand was mechanically raised to his hat. Mrs. Burton leaned +back once more among the cushions. + +"You and your ghosts!" she exclaimed. "If you want to sit there, +thinking like an owl, you'd better try and think of some of your funny +stories for to-night. You'll have to sit next that stuck-up Mrs. +Bomford, and she takes a bit of amusing." + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Double Life Of Mr. Alfred Burton +by E. 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