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diff --git a/old/1718-h.htm.2021-01-27 b/old/1718-h.htm.2021-01-27 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8f2e2da --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1718-h.htm.2021-01-27 @@ -0,0 +1,7557 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + Manalive, by G. K. Chesterton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Manalive, by G. K. Chesterton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Manalive + +Author: G. K. Chesterton + +Release Date: August 3, 2005 [EBook #1718] +Last Updated: September 6, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MANALIVE *** + + +Etext produced by Jim Henry III and edited by Martin Ward +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MANALIVE + </h1> + <h2> + By G. K. Chesterton + </h2> + <h4> + Published by Thomas Nelson and Sons: 1912 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART"> <b>Part I</b> — THE ENIGMAS OF INNOCENT + SMITH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter I — How the Great Wind Came to + Beacon House </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter II — The Luggage of an Optimist + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter III — The Banner of Beacon </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter IV — The Garden of the God </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter V — The Allegorical Practical Joker + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <b>Part II</b> — THE EXPLANATIONS OF + INNOCENT SMITH </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter I — The Eye of Death; or, the + Murder Charge </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter II — The Two Curates; or, the + Burglary Charge </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter III — The Round Road; or, the + Desertion Charge </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter IV — The Wild Weddings; or, the + Polygamy Charge </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter V — How the Great Wind Went from + Beacon House </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /><a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART I — THE ENIGMAS OF INNOCENT SMITH + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter I — How the Great Wind Came to Beacon House + </h2> + <p> + A wind sprang high in the west, like a wave of unreasonable happiness, and + tore eastward across England, trailing with it the frosty scent of forests + and the cold intoxication of the sea. In a million holes and corners it + refreshed a man like a flagon, and astonished him like a blow. In the + inmost chambers of intricate and embowered houses it woke like a domestic + explosion, littering the floor with some professor’s papers till + they seemed as precious as fugitive, or blowing out the candle by which a + boy read “Treasure Island” and wrapping him in roaring dark. + But everywhere it bore drama into undramatic lives, and carried the trump + of crisis across the world. Many a harassed mother in a mean backyard had + looked at five dwarfish shirts on the clothes-line as at some small, sick + tragedy; it was as if she had hanged her five children. The wind came, and + they were full and kicking as if five fat imps had sprung into them; and + far down in her oppressed subconscious she half-remembered those coarse + comedies of her fathers when the elves still dwelt in the homes of men. + Many an unnoticed girl in a dank walled garden had tossed herself into the + hammock with the same intolerant gesture with which she might have tossed + herself into the Thames; and that wind rent the waving wall of woods and + lifted the hammock like a balloon, and showed her shapes of quaint clouds + far beyond, and pictures of bright villages far below, as if she rode + heaven in a fairy boat. Many a dusty clerk or cleric, plodding a + telescopic road of poplars, thought for the hundredth time that they were + like the plumes of a hearse; when this invisible energy caught and swung + and clashed them round his head like a wreath or salutation of seraphic + wings. There was in it something more inspired and authoritative even than + the old wind of the proverb; for this was the good wind that blows nobody + harm. + </p> + <p> + The flying blast struck London just where it scales the northern heights, + terrace above terrace, as precipitous as Edinburgh. It was round about + this place that some poet, probably drunk, looked up astonished at all + those streets gone skywards, and (thinking vaguely of glaciers and roped + mountaineers) gave it the name of Swiss Cottage, which it has never been + able to shake off. At some stage of those heights a terrace of tall gray + houses, mostly empty and almost as desolate as the Grampians, curved round + at the western end, so that the last building, a boarding establishment + called “Beacon House,” offered abruptly to the sunset its + high, narrow and towering termination, like the prow of some deserted + ship. + </p> + <p> + The ship, however, was not wholly deserted. The proprietor of the + boarding-house, a Mrs. Duke, was one of those helpless persons against + whom fate wars in vain; she smiled vaguely both before and after all her + calamities; she was too soft to be hurt. But by the aid (or rather under + the orders) of a strenuous niece she always kept the remains of a + clientele, mostly of young but listless folks. And there were actually + five inmates standing disconsolately about the garden when the great gale + broke at the base of the terminal tower behind them, as the sea bursts + against the base of an outstanding cliff. + </p> + <p> + All day that hill of houses over London had been domed and sealed up with + cold cloud. Yet three men and two girls had at last found even the gray + and chilly garden more tolerable than the black and cheerless interior. + When the wind came it split the sky and shouldered the cloudland left and + right, unbarring great clear furnaces of evening gold. The burst of light + released and the burst of air blowing seemed to come almost + simultaneously; and the wind especially caught everything in a throttling + violence. The bright short grass lay all one way like brushed hair. Every + shrub in the garden tugged at its roots like a dog at the collar, and + strained every leaping leaf after the hunting and exterminating element. + Now and again a twig would snap and fly like a bolt from an arbalist. The + three men stood stiffly and aslant against the wind, as if leaning against + a wall. The two ladies disappeared into the house; rather, to speak truly, + they were blown into the house. Their two frocks, blue and white, looked + like two big broken flowers, driving and drifting upon the gale. Nor is + such a poetic fancy inappropriate, for there was something oddly romantic + about this inrush of air and light after a long, leaden and unlifting day. + Grass and garden trees seemed glittering with something at once good and + unnatural, like a fire from fairyland. It seemed like a strange sunrise at + the wrong end of the day. + </p> + <p> + The girl in white dived in quickly enough, for she wore a white hat of the + proportions of a parachute, which might have wafted her away into the + coloured clouds of evening. She was their one splash of splendour, and + irradiated wealth in that impecunious place (staying there temporarily + with a friend), an heiress in a small way, by name Rosamund Hunt, + brown-eyed, round-faced, but resolute and rather boisterous. On top of her + wealth she was good-humoured and rather good-looking; but she had not + married, perhaps because there was always a crowd of men around her. She + was not fast (though some might have called her vulgar), but she gave + irresolute youths an impression of being at once popular and inaccessible. + A man felt as if he had fallen in love with Cleopatra, or as if he were + asking for a great actress at the stage door. Indeed, some theatrical + spangles seemed to cling about Miss Hunt; she played the guitar and the + mandoline; she always wanted charades; and with that great rending of the + sky by sun and storm, she felt a girlish melodrama swell again within her. + To the crashing orchestration of the air the clouds rose like the curtain + of some long-expected pantomime. + </p> + <p> + Nor, oddly, was the girl in blue entirely unimpressed by this apocalypse + in a private garden; though she was one of most prosaic and practical + creatures alive. She was, indeed, no other than the strenuous niece whose + strength alone upheld that mansion of decay. But as the gale swung and + swelled the blue and white skirts till they took on the monstrous contours + of Victorian crinolines, a sunken memory stirred in her that was almost + romance—a memory of a dusty volume of <i>Punch</i> in an aunt’s + house in infancy: pictures of crinoline hoops and croquet hoops and some + pretty story, of which perhaps they were a part. This half-perceptible + fragrance in her thoughts faded almost instantly, and Diana Duke entered + the house even more promptly than her companion. Tall, slim, aquiline, and + dark, she seemed made for such swiftness. In body she was of the breed of + those birds and beasts that are at once long and alert, like greyhounds or + herons or even like an innocent snake. The whole house revolved on her as + on a rod of steel. It would be wrong to say that she commanded; for her + own efficiency was so impatient that she obeyed herself before any one + else obeyed her. Before electricians could mend a bell or locksmiths open + a door, before dentists could pluck a tooth or butlers draw a tight cork, + it was done already with the silent violence of her slim hands. She was + light; but there was nothing leaping about her lightness. She spurned the + ground, and she meant to spurn it. People talk of the pathos and failure + of plain women; but it is a more terrible thing that a beautiful woman may + succeed in everything but womanhood. + </p> + <p> + “It’s enough to blow your head off,” said the young + woman in white, going to the looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + The young woman in blue made no reply, but put away her gardening gloves, + and then went to the sideboard and began to spread out an afternoon cloth + for tea. + </p> + <p> + “Enough to blow your head off, I say,” said Miss Rosamund + Hunt, with the unruffled cheeriness of one whose songs and speeches had + always been safe for an encore. + </p> + <p> + “Only your hat, I think,” said Diana Duke, “but I dare + say that is sometimes more important.” + </p> + <p> + Rosamund’s face showed for an instant the offence of a spoilt child, + and then the humour of a very healthy person. She broke into a laugh and + said, “Well, it would have to be a big wind to blow your head off.” + </p> + <p> + There was another silence; and the sunset breaking more and more from the + sundering clouds, filled the room with soft fire and painted the dull + walls with ruby and gold. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody once told me,” said Rosamund Hunt, “that it’s + easier to keep one’s head when one has lost one’s heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t talk such rubbish,” said Diana with savage + sharpness. + </p> + <p> + Outside, the garden was clad in a golden splendour; but the wind was still + stiffly blowing, and the three men who stood their ground might also have + considered the problem of hats and heads. And, indeed, their position, + touching hats, was somewhat typical of them. The tallest of the three + abode the blast in a high silk hat, which the wind seemed to charge as + vainly as that other sullen tower, the house behind him. The second man + tried to hold on a stiff straw hat at all angles, and ultimately held it + in his hand. The third had no hat, and, by his attitude, seemed never to + have had one in his life. Perhaps this wind was a kind of fairy wand to + test men and women, for there was much of the three men in this + difference. + </p> + <p> + The man in the solid silk hat was the embodiment of silkiness and + solidity. He was a big, bland, bored and (as some said) boring man, with + flat fair hair and handsome heavy features; a prosperous young doctor by + the name of Warner. But if his blondness and blandness seemed at first a + little fatuous, it is certain that he was no fool. If Rosamund Hunt was + the only person there with much money, he was the only person who had as + yet found any kind of fame. His treatise on “The Probable Existence + of Pain in the Lowest Organisms” had been universally hailed by the + scientific world as at once solid and daring. In short, he undoubtedly had + brains; and perhaps it was not his fault if they were the kind of brains + that most men desire to analyze with a poker. + </p> + <p> + The young man who put his hat off and on was a scientific amateur in a + small way, and worshipped the great Warner with a solemn freshness. It + was, in fact, at his invitation that the distinguished doctor was present; + for Warner lived in no such ramshackle lodging-house, but in a + professional palace in Harley Street. This young man was really the + youngest and best-looking of the three. But he was one of those persons, + both male and female, who seem doomed to be good-looking and + insignificant. Brown-haired, high-coloured, and shy, he seemed to lose the + delicacy of his features in a sort of blur of brown and red as he stood + blushing and blinking against the wind. He was one of those obvious + unnoticeable people: every one knew that he was Arthur Inglewood, + unmarried, moral, decidedly intelligent, living on a little money of his + own, and hiding himself in the two hobbies of photography and cycling. + Everybody knew him and forgot him; even as he stood there in the glare of + golden sunset there was something about him indistinct, like one of his + own red-brown amateur photographs. + </p> + <p> + The third man had no hat; he was lean, in light, vaguely sporting clothes, + and the large pipe in his mouth made him look all the leaner. He had a + long ironical face, blue-black hair, the blue eyes of an Irishman, and the + blue chin of an actor. An Irishman he was, an actor he was not, except in + the old days of Miss Hunt’s charades, being, as a matter of fact, an + obscure and flippant journalist named Michael Moon. He had once been + hazily supposed to be reading for the Bar; but (as Warner would say with + his rather elephantine wit) it was mostly at another kind of bar that his + friends found him. Moon, however, did not drink, nor even frequently get + drunk; he simply was a gentleman who liked low company. This was partly + because company is quieter than society: and if he enjoyed talking to a + barmaid (as apparently he did), it was chiefly because the barmaid did the + talking. Moreover he would often bring other talent to assist her. He + shared that strange trick of all men of his type, intellectual and without + ambition—the trick of going about with his mental inferiors. There + was a small resilient Jew named Moses Gould in the same boarding-house, a + man whose negro vitality and vulgarity amused Michael so much that he went + round with him from bar to bar, like the owner of a performing monkey. + </p> + <p> + The colossal clearance which the wind had made of that cloudy sky grew + clearer and clearer; chamber within chamber seemed to open in heaven. One + felt one might at last find something lighter than light. In the fullness + of this silent effulgence all things collected their colours again: the + gray trunks turned silver, and the drab gravel gold. One bird fluttered + like a loosened leaf from one tree to another, and his brown feathers were + brushed with fire. + </p> + <p> + “Inglewood,” said Michael Moon, with his blue eye on the bird, + “have you any friends?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Warner mistook the person addressed, and turning a broad beaming face, + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I go out a great deal.” + </p> + <p> + Michael Moon gave a tragic grin, and waited for his real informant, who + spoke a moment after in a voice curiously cool, fresh and young, as coming + out of that brown and even dusty interior. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” answered Inglewood, “I’m afraid I’ve + lost touch with my old friends. The greatest friend I ever had was at + school, a fellow named Smith. It’s odd you should mention it, + because I was thinking of him to-day, though I haven’t seen him for + seven or eight years. He was on the science side with me at school— + a clever fellow though queer; and he went up to Oxford when I went to + Germany. The fact is, it’s rather a sad story. I often asked him to + come and see me, and when I heard nothing I made inquiries, you know. I + was shocked to learn that poor Smith had gone off his head. The accounts + were a bit cloudy, of course, some saying that he had recovered again; but + they always say that. About a year ago I got a telegram from him myself. + The telegram, I’m sorry to say, put the matter beyond a doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” assented Dr. Warner stolidly; “insanity is + generally incurable.” + </p> + <p> + “So is sanity,” said the Irishman, and studied him with a + dreary eye. + </p> + <p> + “Symptoms?” asked the doctor. “What was this telegram?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a shame to joke about such things,” said + Inglewood, in his honest, embarrassed way; “the telegram was Smith’s + illness, not Smith. The actual words were, `Man found alive with two legs.’” + </p> + <p> + “Alive with two legs,” repeated Michael, frowning. “Perhaps + a version of alive and kicking? I don’t know much about people out + of their senses; but I suppose they ought to be kicking.” + </p> + <p> + “And people in their senses?” asked Warner, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they ought to be kicked,” said Michael with sudden + heartiness. + </p> + <p> + “The message is clearly insane,” continued the impenetrable + Warner. “The best test is a reference to the undeveloped normal + type. Even a baby does not expect to find a man with three legs.” + </p> + <p> + “Three legs,” said Michael Moon, “would be very + convenient in this wind.” + </p> + <p> + A fresh eruption of the atmosphere had indeed almost thrown them off their + balance and broken the blackened trees in the garden. Beyond, all sorts of + accidental objects could be seen scouring the wind-scoured sky—straws, + sticks, rags, papers, and, in the distance, a disappearing hat. Its + disappearance, however, was not final; after an interval of minutes they + saw it again, much larger and closer, like a white panama, towering up + into the heavens like a balloon, staggering to and fro for an instant like + a stricken kite, and then settling in the centre of their own lawn as + falteringly as a fallen leaf. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody’s lost a good hat,” said Dr. Warner shortly. + </p> + <p> + Almost as he spoke, another object came over the garden wall, flying after + the fluttering panama. It was a big green umbrella. After that came + hurtling a huge yellow Gladstone bag, and after that came a figure like a + flying wheel of legs, as in the shield of the Isle of Man. + </p> + <p> + But though for a flash it seemed to have five or six legs, it alighted + upon two, like the man in the queer telegram. It took the form of a large + light-haired man in gay green holiday clothes. He had bright blonde hair + that the wind brushed back like a German’s, a flushed eager face + like a cherub’s, and a prominent pointing nose, a little like a dog’s. + His head, however, was by no means cherubic in the sense of being without + a body. On the contrary, on his vast shoulders and shape generally + gigantesque, his head looked oddly and unnaturally small. This gave rise + to a scientific theory (which his conduct fully supported) that he was an + idiot. + </p> + <p> + Inglewood had a politeness instinctive and yet awkward. His life was full + of arrested half gestures of assistance. And even this prodigy of a big + man in green, leaping the wall like a bright green grasshopper, did not + paralyze that small altruism of his habits in such a matter as a lost hat. + He was stepping forward to recover the green gentleman’s head-gear, + when he was struck rigid with a roar like a bull’s. + </p> + <p> + “Unsportsmanlike!” bellowed the big man. “Give it fair + play, give it fair play!” And he came after his own hat quickly but + cautiously, with burning eyes. The hat had seemed at first to droop and + dawdle as in ostentatious langour on the sunny lawn; but the wind again + freshening and rising, it went dancing down the garden with the devilry of + a ~pas de quatre~. The eccentric went bounding after it with kangaroo + leaps and bursts of breathless speech, of which it was not always easy to + pick up the thread: “Fair play, fair play... sport of kings... chase + their crowns... quite humane... tramontana... cardinals chase red hats... + old English hunting... started a hat in Bramber Combe... hat at bay... + mangled hounds... Got him!” + </p> + <p> + As the wind rose out of a roar into a shriek, he leapt into the sky on his + strong, fantastic legs, snatched at the vanishing hat, missed it, and + pitched sprawling face foremost on the grass. The hat rose over him like a + bird in triumph. But its triumph was premature; for the lunatic, flung + forward on his hands, threw up his boots behind, waved his two legs in the + air like symbolic ensigns (so that they actually thought again of the + telegram), and actually caught the hat with his feet. A prolonged and + piercing yell of wind split the welkin from end to end. The eyes of all + the men were blinded by the invisible blast, as by a strange, clear + cataract of transparency rushing between them and all objects about them. + But as the large man fell back in a sitting posture and solemnly crowned + himself with the hat, Michael found, to his incredulous surprise, that he + had been holding his breath, like a man watching a duel. + </p> + <p> + While that tall wind was at the top of its sky-scraping energy, another + short cry was heard, beginning very querulous, but ending very quick, + swallowed in abrupt silence. The shiny black cylinder of Dr. Warner’s + official hat sailed off his head in the long, smooth parabola of an + airship, and in almost cresting a garden tree was caught in the topmost + branches. Another hat was gone. Those in that garden felt themselves + caught in an unaccustomed eddy of things happening; no one seemed to know + what would blow away next. Before they could speculate, the cheering and + hallooing hat-hunter was already halfway up the tree, swinging himself + from fork to fork with his strong, bent, grasshopper legs, and still + giving forth his gasping, mysterious comments. + </p> + <p> + “Tree of life... Ygdrasil... climb for centuries perhaps... owls + nesting in the hat... remotest generations of owls... still usurpers... + gone to heaven... man in the moon wears it... brigand... not yours... + belongs to depressed medical man... in garden... give it up... give it up!” + </p> + <p> + The tree swung and swept and thrashed to and fro in the thundering wind + like a thistle, and flamed in the full sunshine like a bonfire. The green, + fantastic human figure, vivid against its autumn red and gold, was already + among its highest and craziest branches, which by bare luck did not break + with the weight of his big body. He was up there among the last tossing + leaves and the first twinkling stars of evening, still talking to himself + cheerfully, reasoningly, half apologetically, in little gasps. He might + well be out of breath, for his whole preposterous raid had gone with one + rush; he had bounded the wall once like a football, swept down the garden + like a slide, and shot up the tree like a rocket. The other three men + seemed buried under incident piled on incident— a wild world where + one thing began before another thing left off. All three had the first + thought. The tree had been there for the five years they had known the + boarding-house. Each one of them was active and strong. No one of them had + even thought of climbing it. Beyond that, Inglewood felt first the mere + fact of colour. The bright brisk leaves, the bleak blue sky, the wild + green arms and legs, reminded him irrationally of something glowing in his + infancy, something akin to a gaudy man on a golden tree; perhaps it was + only painted monkey on a stick. Oddly enough, Michael Moon, though more of + a humourist, was touched on a tenderer nerve, half remembered the old, + young theatricals with Rosamund, and was amused to find himself almost + quoting Shakespeare— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For valour. Is not love a Hercules, + Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?” + </pre> + <p> + Even the immovable man of science had a bright, bewildered sensation that + the Time Machine had given a great jerk, and gone forward with rather + rattling rapidity. + </p> + <p> + He was not, however, wholly prepared for what happened next. The man in + green, riding the frail topmost bough like a witch on a very risky + broomstick, reached up and rent the black hat from its airy nest of twigs. + It had been broken across a heavy bough in the first burst of its passage, + a tangle of branches in torn and scored and scratched it in every + direction, a clap of wind and foliage had flattened it like a concertina; + nor can it be said that the obliging gentleman with the sharp nose showed + any adequate tenderness for its structure when he finally unhooked it from + its place. When he had found it, however, his proceedings were by some + counted singular. He waved it with a loud whoop of triumph, and then + immediately appeared to fall backwards off the tree, to which, however, he + remained attached by his long strong legs, like a monkey swung by his + tail. Hanging thus head downwards above the unhelmed Warner, he gravely + proceeded to drop the battered silk cylinder upon his brows. “Every + man a king,” explained the inverted philosopher, “every hat + (consequently) a crown. But this is a crown out of heaven.” + </p> + <p> + And he again attempted the coronation of Warner, who, however, moved away + with great abruptness from the hovering diadem; not seeming, strangely + enough, to wish for his former decoration in its present state. + </p> + <p> + “Wrong, wrong!” cried the obliging person hilariously. “Always + wear uniform, even if it’s shabby uniform! Ritualists may always be + untidy. Go to a dance with soot on your shirt-front; but go with a + shirt-front. Huntsman wears old coat, but old pink coat. Wear a topper, + even if it’s got no top. It’s the symbol that counts, old + cock. Take your hat, because it is your hat after all; its nap rubbed all + off by the bark, dears, and its brim not the least bit curled; but for old + sakes’ sake it is still, dears, the nobbiest tile in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Speaking thus, with a wild comfortableness, he settled or smashed the + shapeless silk hat over the face of the disturbed physician, and fell on + his feet among the other men, still talking, beaming and breathless. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t they make more games out of wind?” he asked + in some excitement. “Kites are all right, but why should it only be + kites? Why, I thought of three other games for a windy day while I was + climbing that tree. Here’s one of them: you take a lot of pepper—” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” interposed Moon, with a sardonic mildness, “that + your games are already sufficiently interesting. Are you, may I ask, a + professional acrobat on a tour, or a travelling advertisement of Sunny + Jim? How and why do you display all this energy for clearing walls and + climbing trees in our melancholy, but at least rational, suburbs?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger, so far as so loud a person was capable of it, appeared to + grow confidential. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s a trick of my own,” he confessed candidly. + “I do it by having two legs.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur Inglewood, who had sunk into the background of this scene of folly, + started and stared at the newcomer with his short-sighted eyes screwed up + and his high colour slightly heightened. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I believe you’re Smith,” he cried with his fresh, + almost boyish voice; and then after an instant’s stare, “and + yet I’m not sure.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a card, I think,” said the unknown, with baffling + solemnity—“a card with my real name, my titles, offices, and + true purpose on this earth.” + </p> + <p> + He drew out slowly from an upper waistcoat pocket a scarlet card-case, and + as slowly produced a very large card. Even in the instant of its + production, they fancied it was of a queer shape, unlike the cards of + ordinary gentlemen. But it was there only for an instant; for as it passed + from his fingers to Arthur’s, one or another slipped his hold. The + strident, tearing gale in that garden carried away the stranger’s + card to join the wild waste paper of the universe; and that great western + wind shook the whole house and passed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II — The Luggage of an Optimist + </h2> + <p> + We all remember the fairy tales of science in our infancy, which played + with the supposition that large animals could jump in the proportion of + small ones. If an elephant were as strong as a grasshopper, he could (I + suppose) spring clean out of the Zoological Gardens and alight trumpeting + upon Primrose Hill. If a whale could leap from the sea like a trout, + perhaps men might look up and see one soaring above Yarmouth like the + winged island of Laputa. Such natural energy, though sublime, might + certainly be inconvenient, and much of this inconvenience attended the + gaiety and good intentions of the man in green. He was too large for + everything, because he was lively as well as large. By a fortunate + physical provision, most very substantial creatures are also reposeful; + and middle-class boarding-houses in the lesser parts of London are not + built for a man as big as a bull and excitable as a kitten. + </p> + <p> + When Inglewood followed the stranger into the boarding-house, he found him + talking earnestly (and in his own opinion privately) to the helpless Mrs. + Duke. That fat, faint lady could only goggle up like a dying fish at the + enormous new gentleman, who politely offered himself as a lodger, with + vast gestures of the wide white hat in one hand, and the yellow Gladstone + bag in the other. Fortunately, Mrs. Duke’s more efficient niece and + partner was there to complete the contract; for, indeed, all the people of + the house had somehow collected in the room. This fact, in truth, was + typical of the whole episode. The visitor created an atmosphere of comic + crisis; and from the time he came into the house to the time he left it, + he somehow got the company to gather and even follow (though in derision) + as children gather and follow a Punch and Judy. An hour ago, and for four + years previously, these people had avoided each other, even when they had + really liked each other. They had slid in and out of dismal and deserted + rooms in search of particular newspapers or private needlework. Even now + they all came casually, as with varying interests; but they all came. + There was the embarrassed Inglewood, still a sort of red shadow; there was + the unembarrassed Warner, a pallid but solid substance. There was Michael + Moon offering like a riddle the contrast of the horsy crudeness of his + clothes and the sombre sagacity of his visage. He was now joined by his + yet more comic crony, Moses Gould. Swaggering on short legs with a + prosperous purple tie, he was the gayest of godless little dogs; but like + a dog also in this, that however he danced and wagged with delight, the + two dark eyes on each side of his protuberant nose glistened gloomily like + black buttons. There was Miss Rosamund Hunt, still with the fine white hat + framing her square, good-looking face, and still with her native air of + being dressed for some party that never came off. She also, like Mr. Moon, + had a new companion, new so far as this narrative goes, but in reality an + old friend and a protegee. This was a slight young woman in dark gray, and + in no way notable but for a load of dull red hair, of which the shape + somehow gave her pale face that triangular, almost peaked, appearance + which was given by the lowering headdress and deep rich ruff of the + Elizabethan beauties. Her surname seemed to be Gray, and Miss Hunt called + her Mary, in that indescribable tone applied to a dependent who has + practically become a friend. She wore a small silver cross on her very + business-like gray clothes, and was the only member of the party who went + to church. Last, but the reverse of least, there was Diana Duke, studying + the newcomer with eyes of steel, and listening carefully to every idiotic + word he said. As for Mrs. Duke, she smiled up at him, but never dreamed of + listening to him. She had never really listened to any one in her life; + which, some said, was why she had survived. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Mrs. Duke was pleased with her new guest’s + concentration of courtesy upon herself; for no one ever spoke seriously to + her any more than she listened seriously to any one. And she almost beamed + as the stranger, with yet wider and almost whirling gestures of + explanation with his huge hat and bag, apologized for having entered by + the wall instead of the front door. He was understood to put it down to an + unfortunate family tradition of neatness and care of his clothes. + </p> + <p> + “My mother was rather strict about it, to tell the truth,” he + said, lowering his voice, to Mrs. Duke. “She never liked me to lose + my cap at school. And when a man’s been taught to be tidy and neat + it sticks to him.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Duke weakly gasped that she was sure he must have had a good mother; + but her niece seemed inclined to probe the matter further. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve got a funny idea of neatness,” she said, “if + it’s jumping garden walls and clambering up garden trees. A man can’t + very well climb a tree tidily.” + </p> + <p> + “He can clear a wall neatly,” said Michael Moon; “I saw + him do it.” + </p> + <p> + Smith seemed to be regarding the girl with genuine astonishment. “My + dear young lady,” he said, “I was tidying the tree. You don’t + want last year’s hats there, do you, any more than last year’s + leaves? The wind takes off the leaves, but it couldn’t manage the + hat; that wind, I suppose, has tidied whole forests to-day. Rum idea this + is, that tidiness is a timid, quiet sort of thing; why, tidiness is a toil + for giants. You can’t tidy anything without untidying yourself; just + look at my trousers. Don’t you know that? Haven’t you ever had + a spring cleaning?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, sir,” said Mrs. Duke, almost eagerly. “You will + find everything of that sort quite nice.” For the first time she had + heard two words that she could understand. + </p> + <p> + Miss Diana Duke seemed to be studying the stranger with a sort of spasm of + calculation; then her black eyes snapped with decision, and she said that + he could have a particular bedroom on the top floor if he liked: and the + silent and sensitive Inglewood, who had been on the rack through these + cross-purposes, eagerly offered to show him up to the room. Smith went up + the stairs four at a time, and when he bumped his head against the + ultimate ceiling, Inglewood had an odd sensation that the tall house was + much shorter than it used to be. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Inglewood followed his old friend—or his new friend, for he + did not very clearly know which he was. The face looked very like his old + schoolfellow’s at one second and very unlike at another. And when + Inglewood broke through his native politeness so far as to say suddenly, + “Is your name Smith?” he received only the unenlightening + reply, “Quite right; quite right. Very good. Excellent!” Which + appeared to Inglewood, on reflection, rather the speech of a new-born babe + accepting a name than of a grown-up man admitting one. + </p> + <p> + Despite these doubts about identity, the hapless Inglewood watched the + other unpack, and stood about his bedroom in all the impotent attitudes of + the male friend. Mr. Smith unpacked with the same kind of whirling + accuracy with which he climbed a tree—throwing things out of his bag + as if they were rubbish, yet managing to distribute quite a regular + pattern all round him on the floor. + </p> + <p> + As he did so he continued to talk in the same somewhat gasping manner (he + had come upstairs four steps at a time, but even without this his style of + speech was breathless and fragmentary), and his remarks were still a + string of more or less significant but often separate pictures. + </p> + <p> + “Like the day of judgement,” he said, throwing a bottle so + that it somehow settled, rocking on its right end. “People say vast + universe... infinity and astronomy; not sure... I think things are too + close together... packed up; for travelling... stars too close, really... + why, the sun’s a star, too close to be seen properly; the earth’s + a star, too close to be seen at all... too many pebbles on the beach; + ought all to be put in rings; too many blades of grass to study... + feathers on a bird make the brain reel; wait till the big bag is + unpacked... may all be put in our right places then.” + </p> + <p> + Here he stopped, literally for breath—throwing a shirt to the other + end of the room, and then a bottle of ink so that it fell quite neatly + beyond it. Inglewood looked round on this strange, half-symmetrical + disorder with an increasing doubt. + </p> + <p> + In fact, the more one explored Mr. Smith’s holiday luggage, the less + one could make anything of it. One peculiarity of it was that almost + everything seemed to be there for the wrong reason; what is secondary with + every one else was primary with him. He would wrap up a pot or pan in + brown paper; and the unthinking assistant would discover that the pot was + valueless or even unnecessary, and that it was the brown paper that was + truly precious. He produced two or three boxes of cigars, and explained + with plain and perplexing sincerity that he was no smoker, but that + cigar-box wood was by far the best for fretwork. He also exhibited about + six small bottles of wine, white and red, and Inglewood, happening to note + a Volnay which he knew to be excellent, supposed at first that the + stranger was an epicure in vintages. He was therefore surprised to find + that the next bottle was a vile sham claret from the colonies, which even + colonials (to do them justice) do not drink. It was only then that he + observed that all six bottles had those bright metallic seals of various + tints, and seemed to have been chosen solely because they have the three + primary and three secondary colours: red, blue, and yellow; green, violet + and orange. There grew upon Inglewood an almost creepy sense of the real + childishness of this creature. For Smith was really, so far as human + psychology can be, innocent. He had the sensualities of innocence: he + loved the stickiness of gum, and he cut white wood greedily as if he were + cutting a cake. To this man wine was not a doubtful thing to be defended + or denounced; it was a quaintly coloured syrup, such as a child sees in a + shop window. He talked dominantly and rushed the social situation; but he + was not asserting himself, like a superman in a modern play. He was simply + forgetting himself, like a little boy at a party. He had somehow made the + giant stride from babyhood to manhood, and missed that crisis in youth + when most of us grow old. + </p> + <p> + As he shunted his big bag, Arthur observed the initials I. S. printed on + one side of it, and remembered that Smith had been called Innocent Smith + at school, though whether as a formal Christian name or a moral + description he could not remember. He was just about to venture another + question, when there was a knock at the door, and the short figure of Mr. + Gould offered itself, with the melancholy Moon, standing like his tall + crooked shadow, behind him. They had drifted up the stairs after the other + two men with the wandering gregariousness of the male. + </p> + <p> + “Hope there’s no intrusion,” said the beaming Moses with + a glow of good nature, but not the airiest tinge of apology. + </p> + <p> + “The truth is,” said Michael Moon with comparative courtesy, + “we thought we might see if they had made you comfortable. Miss Duke + is rather—” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” cried the stranger, looking up radiantly from his + bag; “magnificent, isn’t she? Go close to her—hear + military music going by, like Joan of Arc.” + </p> + <p> + Inglewood stared and stared at the speaker like one who has just heard a + wild fairy tale, which nevertheless contains one small and forgotten fact. + For he remembered how he had himself thought of Jeanne d’Arc years + ago, when, hardly more than a schoolboy, he had first come to the + boarding-house. Long since the pulverizing rationalism of his friend Dr. + Warner had crushed such youthful ignorances and disproportionate dreams. + Under the Warnerian scepticism and science of hopeless human types, + Inglewood had long come to regard himself as a timid, insufficient, and + “weak” type, who would never marry; to regard Diana Duke as a + materialistic maidservant; and to regard his first fancy for her as the + small, dull farce of a collegian kissing his landlady’s daughter. + And yet the phrase about military music moved him queerly, as if he had + heard those distant drums. + </p> + <p> + “She has to keep things pretty tight, as is only natural,” + said Moon, glancing round the rather dwarfish room, with its wedge of + slanted ceiling, like the conical hood of a dwarf. + </p> + <p> + “Rather a small box for you, sir,” said the waggish Mr. Gould. + </p> + <p> + “Splendid room, though,” answered Mr. Smith enthusiastically, + with his head inside his Gladstone bag. “I love these pointed sorts + of rooms, like Gothic. By the way,” he cried out, pointing in quite + a startling way, “where does that door lead to?” + </p> + <p> + “To certain death, I should say,” answered Michael Moon, + staring up at a dust-stained and disused trapdoor in the sloping roof of + the attic. “I don’t think there’s a loft there; and I + don’t know what else it could lead to.” Long before he had + finished his sentence the man with the strong green legs had leapt at the + door in the ceiling, swung himself somehow on to the ledge beneath it, + wrenched it open after a struggle, and clambered through it. For a moment + they saw the two symbolic legs standing like a truncated statue; then they + vanished. Through the hole thus burst in the roof appeared the empty and + lucid sky of evening, with one great many-coloured cloud sailing across it + like a whole county upside down. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, you fellows!” came the far cry of Innocent Smith, + apparently from some remote pinnacle. “Come up here; and bring some + of my things to eat and drink. It’s just the spot for a picnic.” + </p> + <p> + With a sudden impulse Michael snatched two of the small bottles of wine, + one in each solid fist; and Arthur Inglewood, as if mesmerized, groped for + a biscuit tin and a big jar of ginger. The enormous hand of Innocent Smith + appearing through the aperture, like a giant’s in a fairy tale, + received these tributes and bore them off to the eyrie; then they both + hoisted themselves out of the window. They were both athletic, and even + gymnastic; Inglewood through his concern for hygiene, and Moon through his + concern for sport, which was not quite so idle and inactive as that of the + average sportsman. Also they both had a light-headed burst of celestial + sensation when the door was burst in the roof, as if a door had been burst + in the sky, and they could climb out on to the very roof of the universe. + They were both men who had long been unconsciously imprisoned in the + commonplace, though one took it comically, and the other seriously. They + were both men, nevertheless, in whom sentiment had never died. But Mr. + Moses Gould had an equal contempt for their suicidal athletics and their + subconscious transcendentalism, and he stood and laughed at the thing with + the shameless rationality of another race. + </p> + <p> + When the singular Smith, astride of a chimney-pot, learnt that Gould was + not following, his infantile officiousness and good nature forced him to + dive back into the attic to comfort or persuade; and Inglewood and Moon + were left alone on the long gray-green ridge of the slate roof, with their + feet against gutters and their backs against chimney-pots, looking + agnostically at each other. Their first feeling was that they had come out + into eternity, and that eternity was very like topsy-turvydom. One + definition occurred to both of them—that he had come out into the + light of that lucid and radiant ignorance in which all beliefs had begun. + The sky above them was full of mythology. Heaven seemed deep enough to + hold all the gods. The round of the ether turned from green to yellow + gradually like a great unripe fruit. All around the sunken sun it was like + a lemon; round all the east it was a sort of golden green, more suggestive + of a greengage; but the whole had still the emptiness of daylight and none + of the secrecy of dusk. Tumbled here and there across this gold and pale + green were shards and shattered masses of inky purple cloud, which seemed + falling towards the earth in every kind of colossal perspective. One of + them really had the character of some many-mitred, many-bearded, + many-winged Assyrian image, huge head downwards, hurled out of heaven—a + sort of false Jehovah, who was perhaps Satan. All the other clouds had + preposterous pinnacled shapes, as if the god’s palaces had been + flung after him. + </p> + <p> + And yet, while the empty heaven was full of silent catastrophe, the height + of human buildings above which they sat held here and there a tiny trivial + noise that was the exact antithesis; and they heard some six streets below + a newsboy calling, and a bell bidding to chapel. They could also hear talk + out of the garden below; and realized that the irrepressible Smith must + have followed Gould downstairs, for his eager and pleading accents could + be heard, followed by the half-humourous protests of Miss Duke and the + full and very youthful laughter of Rosamund Hunt. The air had that cold + kindness that comes after a storm. Michael Moon drank it in with as + serious a relish as he had drunk the little bottle of cheap claret, which + he had emptied almost at a draught. Inglewood went on eating ginger very + slowly and with a solemnity unfathomable as the sky above him. There was + still enough stir in the freshness of the atmosphere to make them almost + fancy they could smell the garden soil and the last roses of autumn. + Suddenly there came from the darkening room a silvery ping and pong which + told them that Rosamund had brought out the long-neglected mandoline. + After the first few notes there was more of the distant bell-like + laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Inglewood,” said Michael Moon, “have you ever heard + that I am a blackguard?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t heard it, and I don’t believe it,” + answered Inglewood, after an odd pause. “But I have heard you were—what + they call rather wild.” + </p> + <p> + “If you have heard that I am wild, you can contradict the rumour,” + said Moon, with an extraordinary calm; “I am tame. I am quite tame; + I am about the tamest beast that crawls. I drink too much of the same kind + of whisky at the same time every night. I even drink about the same amount + too much. I go to the same number of public-houses. I meet the same damned + women with mauve faces. I hear the same number of dirty stories— + generally the same dirty stories. You may assure my friends, Inglewood, + that you see before you a person whom civilization has thoroughly tamed.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur Inglewood was staring with feelings that made him nearly fall off + the roof, for indeed the Irishman’s face, always sinister, was now + almost demoniacal. + </p> + <p> + “Christ confound it!” cried out Moon, suddenly clutching the + empty claret bottle, “this is about the thinnest and filthiest wine + I ever uncorked, and it’s the only drink I have really enjoyed for + nine years. I was never wild until just ten minutes ago.” And he + sent the bottle whizzing, a wheel of glass, far away beyond the garden + into the road, where, in the profound evening silence, they could even + hear it break and part upon the stones. + </p> + <p> + “Moon,” said Arthur Inglewood, rather huskily, “you + mustn’t be so bitter about it. Everyone has to take the world as he + finds it; of course one often finds it a bit dull—” + </p> + <p> + “That fellow doesn’t,” said Michael decisively; “I + mean that fellow Smith. I have a fancy there’s some method in his + madness. It looks as if he could turn into a sort of wonderland any minute + by taking one step out of the plain road. Who would have thought of that + trapdoor? Who would have thought that this cursed colonial claret could + taste quite nice among the chimney-pots? Perhaps that is the real key of + fairyland. Perhaps Nosey Gould’s beastly little Empire Cigarettes + ought only to be smoked on stilts, or something of that sort. Perhaps Mrs. + Duke’s cold leg of mutton would seem quite appetizing at the top of + a tree. Perhaps even my damned, dirty, monotonous drizzle of Old Bill + Whisky—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be so rough on yourself,” said Inglewood, in + serious distress. “The dullness isn’t your fault or the whisky’s. + Fellows who don’t— fellows like me I mean—have just the + same feeling that it’s all rather flat and a failure. But the world’s + made like that; it’s all survival. Some people are made to get on, + like Warner; and some people are made to stick quiet, like me. You can’t + help your temperament. I know you’re much cleverer than I am; but + you can’t help having all the loose ways of a poor literary chap, + and I can’t help having all the doubts and helplessness of a small + scientific chap, any more than a fish can help floating or a fern can help + curling up. Humanity, as Warner said so well in that lecture, really + consists of quite different tribes of animals all disguised as men.” + </p> + <p> + In the dim garden below the buzz of talk was suddenly broken by Miss Hunt’s + musical instrument banging with the abruptness of artillery into a vulgar + but spirited tune. + </p> + <p> + Rosamund’s voice came up rich and strong in the words of some + fatuous, fashionable coon song:- + </p> + <p> + “Darkies sing a song on the old plantation, Sing it as we sang it in + days long since gone by.” + </p> + <p> + Inglewood’s brown eyes softened and saddened still more as he + continued his monologue of resignation to such a rollicking and romantic + tune. But the blue eyes of Michael Moon brightened and hardened with a + light that Inglewood did not understand. Many centuries, and many villages + and valleys, would have been happier if Inglewood or Inglewood’s + countrymen had ever understood that light, or guessed at the first blink + that it was the battle star of Ireland. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can ever alter it; it’s in the wheels of the + universe,” went on Inglewood, in a low voice: “some men are + weak and some strong, and the only thing we can do is to know that we are + weak. I have been in love lots of times, but I could not do anything, for + I remembered my own fickleness. I have formed opinions, but I haven’t + the cheek to push them, because I’ve so often changed them. That’s + the upshot, old fellow. We can’t trust ourselves— and we can’t + help it.” + </p> + <p> + Michael had risen to his feet, and stood poised in a perilous position at + the end of the roof, like some dark statue hung above its gable. Behind + him, huge clouds of an almost impossible purple turned slowly topsy-turvy + in the silent anarchy of heaven. Their gyration made the dark figure seem + yet dizzier. + </p> + <p> + “Let us...” he said, and was suddenly silent. + </p> + <p> + “Let us what?” asked Arthur Inglewood, rising equally quick + though somewhat more cautiously, for his friend seemed to find some + difficulty in speech. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go and do some of these things we can’t do,” + said Michael. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment there burst out of the trapdoor below them the cockatoo + hair and flushed face of Innocent Smith, calling to them that they must + come down as the “concert” was in full swing, and Mr. Moses + Gould was about to recite “Young Lochinvar.” + </p> + <p> + As they dropped into Innocent’s attic they nearly tumbled over its + entertaining impedimenta again. Inglewood, staring at the littered floor, + thought instinctively of the littered floor of a nursery. He was therefore + the more moved, and even shocked, when his eye fell on a large + well-polished American revolver. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” he cried, stepping back from the steely glitter as + men step back from a serpent; “are you afraid of burglars? or when + and why do you deal death out of that machine gun?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that!” said Smith, throwing it a single glance; “I + deal life out of that,” and he went bounding down the stairs. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III — The Banner of Beacon + </h2> + <p> + All next day at Beacon House there was a crazy sense that it was everybody’s + birthday. It is the fashion to talk of institutions as cold and cramping + things. The truth is that when people are in exceptionally high spirits, + really wild with freedom and invention, they always must, and they always + do, create institutions. When men are weary they fall into anarchy; but + while they are gay and vigorous they invariably make rules. This, which is + true of all the churches and republics of history, is also true of the + most trivial parlour game or the most unsophisticated meadow romp. We are + never free until some institution frees us; and liberty cannot exist till + it is declared by authority. Even the wild authority of the harlequin + Smith was still authority, because it produced everywhere a crop of crazy + regulations and conditions. He filled every one with his own half-lunatic + life; but it was not expressed in destruction, but rather in a dizzy and + toppling construction. Each person with a hobby found it turning into an + institution. Rosamund’s songs seemed to coalesce into a kind of + opera; Michael’s jests and paragraphs into a magazine. His pipe and + her mandoline seemed between them to make a sort of smoking concert. The + bashful and bewildered Arthur Inglewood almost struggled against his own + growing importance. He felt as if, in spite of him, his photographs were + turning into a picture gallery, and his bicycle into a gymkhana. But no + one had any time to criticize these impromptu estates and offices, for + they followed each other in wild succession like the topics of a rambling + talker. + </p> + <p> + Existence with such a man was an obstacle race made out of pleasant + obstacles. Out of any homely and trivial object he could drag reels of + exaggeration, like a conjurer. Nothing could be more shy and impersonal + than poor Arthur’s photography. Yet the preposterous Smith was seen + assisting him eagerly through sunny morning hours, and an indefensible + sequence described as “Moral Photography” began to unroll + about the boarding-house. It was only a version of the old photographer’s + joke which produces the same figure twice on one plate, making a man play + chess with himself, dine with himself, and so on. But these plates were + more hysterical and ambitious—as, “Miss Hunt forgets Herself,” + showing that lady answering her own too rapturous recognition with a most + appalling stare of ignorance; or “Mr. Moon questions Himself,” + in which Mr. Moon appeared as one driven to madness under his own legal + cross-examination, which was conducted with a long forefinger and an air + of ferocious waggery. One highly successful trilogy—representing + Inglewood recognizing Inglewood, Inglewood prostrating himself before + Inglewood, and Inglewood severely beating Inglewood with an umbrella— + Innocent Smith wanted to have enlarged and put up in the hall, like a sort + of fresco, with the inscription,— + </p> + <p> + “Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control— These three + alone will make a man a prig.” + </p> + <p> + — Tennyson. + </p> + <p> + Nothing, again, could be more prosaic and impenetrable than the domestic + energies of Miss Diana Duke. But Innocent had somehow blundered on the + discovery that her thrifty dressmaking went with a considerable feminine + care for dress—the one feminine thing that had never failed her + solitary self-respect. In consequence Smith pestered her with a theory + (which he really seemed to take seriously) that ladies might combine + economy with magnificence if they would draw light chalk patterns on a + plain dress and then dust them off again. He set up “Smith’s + Lightning Dressmaking Company,” with two screens, a cardboard + placard, and box of bright soft crayons; and Miss Diana actually threw him + an abandoned black overall or working dress on which to exercise the + talents of a modiste. He promptly produced for her a garment aflame with + red and gold sunflowers; she held it up an instant to her shoulders, and + looked like an empress. And Arthur Inglewood, some hours afterwards + cleaning his bicycle (with his usual air of being inextricably hidden in + it), glanced up; and his hot face grew hotter, for Diana stood laughing + for one flash in the doorway, and her dark robe was rich with the green + and purple of great decorative peacocks, like a secret garden in the + “Arabian Nights.” A pang too swift to be named pain or + pleasure went through his heart like an old-world rapier. He remembered + how pretty he thought her years ago, when he was ready to fall in love + with anybody; but it was like remembering a worship of some Babylonian + princess in some previous existence. At his next glimpse of her (and he + caught himself awaiting it) the purple and green chalk was dusted off, and + she went by quickly in her working clothes. + </p> + <p> + As for Mrs. Duke, none who knew that matron could conceive her as actively + resisting this invasion that had turned her house upside down. But among + the most exact observers it was seriously believed that she liked it. For + she was one of those women who at bottom regard all men as equally mad, + wild animals of some utterly separate species. And it is doubtful if she + really saw anything more eccentric or inexplicable in Smith’s + chimney-pot picnics or crimson sunflowers than she had in the chemicals of + Inglewood or the sardonic speeches of Moon. Courtesy, on the other hand, + is a thing that anybody can understand, and Smith’s manners were as + courteous as they were unconventional. She said he was “a real + gentleman,” by which she simply meant a kind-hearted man, which is a + very different thing. She would sit at the head of the table with fat, + folded hands and a fat, folded smile for hours and hours, while every one + else was talking at once. At least, the only other exception was Rosamund’s + companion, Mary Gray, whose silence was of a much more eager sort. Though + she never spoke she always looked as if she might speak any minute. + Perhaps this is the very definition of a companion. Innocent Smith seemed + to throw himself, as into other adventures, into the adventure of making + her talk. He never succeeded, yet he was never snubbed; if he achieved + anything, it was only to draw attention to this quiet figure, and to turn + her, by ever so little, from a modesty to a mystery. But if she was a + riddle, every one recognized that she was a fresh and unspoilt riddle, + like the riddle of the sky and the woods in spring. Indeed, though she was + rather older than the other two girls, she had an early morning ardour, a + fresh earnestness of youth, which Rosamund seemed to have lost in the mere + spending of money, and Diana in the mere guarding of it. Smith looked at + her again and again. Her eyes and mouth were set in her face the wrong way—which + was really the right way. She had the knack of saying everything with her + face: her silence was a sort of steady applause. + </p> + <p> + But among the hilarious experiments of that holiday (which seemed more + like a week’s holiday than a day’s) one experiment towers + supreme, not because it was any sillier or more successful than the + others, but because out of this particular folly flowed all of the odd + events that were to follow. All the other practical jokes exploded of + themselves, and left vacancy; all the other fictions returned upon + themselves, and were finished like a song. But the string of solid and + startling events— which were to include a hansom cab, a detective, a + pistol, and a marriage licence—were all made primarily possible by + the joke about the High Court of Beacon. + </p> + <p> + It had originated, not with Innocent Smith, but with Michael Moon. He was + in a strange glow and pressure of spirits, and talked incessantly; yet he + had never been more sarcastic, and even inhuman. He used his old useless + knowledge as a barrister to talk entertainingly of a tribunal that was a + parody on the pompous anomalies of English law. The High Court of Beacon, + he declared, was a splendid example of our free and sensible constitution. + It had been founded by King John in defiance of the Magna Carta, and now + held absolute power over windmills, wine and spirit licences, ladies + traveling in Turkey, revision of sentences for dog-stealing and parricide, + as well as anything whatever that happened in the town of Market Bosworth. + The whole hundred and nine seneschals of the High Court of Beacon met once + in every four centuries; but in the intervals (as Mr. Moon explained) the + whole powers of the institution were vested in Mrs. Duke. Tossed about + among the rest of the company, however, the High Court did not retain its + historical and legal seriousness, but was used somewhat unscrupulously in + a riot of domestic detail. If somebody spilt the Worcester Sauce on the + tablecloth, he was quite sure it was a rite without which the sittings and + findings of the Court would be invalid; or if somebody wanted a window to + remain shut, he would suddenly remember that none but the third son of the + lord of the manor of Penge had the right to open it. They even went to the + length of making arrests and conducting criminal inquiries. The proposed + trial of Moses Gould for patriotism was rather above the heads of the + company, especially of the criminal; but the trial of Inglewood on a + charge of photographic libel, and his triumphant acquittal upon a plea of + insanity, were admitted to be in the best tradition of the Court. + </p> + <p> + But when Smith was in wild spirits he grew more and more serious, not more + and more flippant like Michael Moon. This proposal of a private court of + justice, which Moon had thrown off with the detachment of a political + humourist, Smith really caught hold of with the eagerness of an abstract + philosopher. It was by far the best thing they could do, he declared, to + claim sovereign powers even for the individual household. + </p> + <p> + “You believe in Home Rule for Ireland; I believe in Home Rule for + homes,” he cried eagerly to Michael. “It would be better if + every father COULD kill his son, as with the old Romans; it would be + better, because nobody would be killed. Let’s issue a Declaration of + Independence from Beacon House. We could grow enough greens in that garden + to support us, and when the tax-collector comes let’s tell him we’re + self-supporting, and play on him with the hose.... Well, perhaps, as you + say, we couldn’t very well have a hose, as that comes from the main; + but we could sink a well in this chalk, and a lot could be done with + water-jugs.... Let this really be Beacon House. Let’s light a + bonfire of independence on the roof, and see house after house answering + it across the valley of the Thames! Let us begin the League of the Free + Families! Away with Local Government! A fig for Local Patriotism! Let + every house be a sovereign state as this is, and judge its own children by + its own law, as we do by the Court of Beacon. Let us cut the painter, and + begin to be happy together, as if we were on a desert island.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that desert island,” said Michael Moon; “it only + exists in the `Swiss Family Robinson.’ A man feels a strange desire + for some sort of vegetable milk, and crash comes down some unexpected + cocoa-nut from some undiscovered monkey. A literary man feels inclined to + pen a sonnet, and at once an officious porcupine rushes out of a thicket + and shoots out one of his quills.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you say a word against the `Swiss Family Robinson,’” + cried Innocent with great warmth. “It mayn’t be exact science, + but it’s dead accurate philosophy. When you’re really + shipwrecked, you do really find what you want. When you’re really on + a desert island, you never find it a desert. If we were really besieged in + this garden, we’d find a hundred English birds and English berries + that we never knew were here. If we were snowed up in this room, we’d + be the better for reading scores of books in that bookcase that we don’t + even know are there; we’d have talks with each other, good, terrible + talks, that we shall go to the grave without guessing; we’d find + materials for everything— christening, marriage, or funeral; yes, + even for a coronation— if we didn’t decide to be a republic.” + </p> + <p> + “A coronation on `Swiss Family’ lines, I suppose,” said + Michael, laughing. “Oh, I know you would find everything in that + atmosphere. If we wanted such a simple thing, for instance, as a + Coronation Canopy, we should walk down beyond the geraniums and find the + Canopy Tree in full bloom. If we wanted such a trifle as a crown of gold, + why, we should be digging up dandelions, and we should find a gold mine + under the lawn. And when we wanted oil for the ceremony, why I suppose a + great storm would wash everything on shore, and we should find there was a + Whale on the premises.” + </p> + <p> + “And so there IS a whale on the premises for all you know,” + asseverated Smith, striking the table with passion. “I bet you’ve + never examined the premises! I bet you’ve never been round at the + back as I was this morning— for I found the very thing you say could + only grow on a tree. There’s an old sort of square tent up against + the dustbin; it’s got three holes in the canvas, and a pole’s + broken, so it’s not much good as a tent, but as a Canopy—” + And his voice quite failed him to express its shining adequacy; then he + went on with controversial eagerness: “You see I take every + challenge as you make it. I believe every blessed thing you say couldn’t + be here has been here all the time. You say you want a whale washed up for + oil. Why, there’s oil in that cruet-stand at your elbow; and I don’t + believe anybody has touched it or thought of it for years. And as for your + gold crown, we’re none of us wealthy here, but we could collect + enough ten-shilling bits from our own pockets to string round a man’s + head for half an hour; or one of Miss Hunt’s gold bangles is nearly + big enough to—” + </p> + <p> + The good-humoured Rosamund was almost choking with laughter. “All is + not gold that glitters,” she said, “and besides—” + </p> + <p> + “What a mistake that is!” cried Innocent Smith, leaping up in + great excitement. “All is gold that glitters— especially now + we are a Sovereign State. What’s the good of a Sovereign State if + you can’t define a sovereign? We can make anything a precious metal, + as men could in the morning of the world. They didn’t choose gold + because it was rare; your scientists can tell you twenty sorts of slime + much rarer. They chose gold because it was bright—because it was a + hard thing to find, but pretty when you’ve found it. You can’t + fight with golden swords or eat golden biscuits; you can only look at it—and + you can look at it out here.” + </p> + <p> + With one of his incalculable motions he sprang back and burst open the + doors into the garden. At the same time also, with one of his gestures + that never seemed at the instant so unconventional as they were, he + stretched out his hand to Mary Gray, and led her out on to the lawn as if + for a dance. + </p> + <p> + The French windows, thus flung open, let in an evening even lovelier than + that of the day before. The west was swimming with sanguine colours, and a + sort of sleepy flame lay along the lawn. The twisted shadows of the one or + two garden trees showed upon this sheen, not gray or black, as in common + daylight, but like arabesques written in vivid violet ink on some page of + Eastern gold. The sunset was one of those festive and yet mysterious + conflagrations in which common things by their colours remind us of costly + or curious things. The slates upon the sloping roof burned like the plumes + of a vast peacock, in every mysterious blend of blue and green. The + red-brown bricks of the wall glowed with all the October tints of strong + ruby and tawny wines. The sun seemed to set each object alight with a + different coloured flame, like a man lighting fireworks; and even Innocent’s + hair, which was of a rather colourless fairness, seemed to have a flame of + pagan gold on it as he strode across the lawn towards the one tall ridge + of rockery. + </p> + <p> + “What would be the good of gold,” he was saying, “if it + did not glitter? Why should we care for a black sovereign any more than + for a black sun at noon? A black button would do just as well. Don’t + you see that everything in this garden looks like a jewel? And will you + kindly tell me what the deuce is the good of a jewel except that it looks + like a jewel? Leave off buying and selling, and start looking! Open your + eyes, and you’ll wake up in the New Jerusalem. + </p> + <p> + “All is gold that glitters— Tree and tower of brass; Rolls the + golden evening air Down the golden grass. Kick the cry to Jericho, How + yellow mud is sold; All is gold that glitters, For the glitter is the + gold.” + </p> + <p> + “And who wrote that?” asked Rosamund, amused. + </p> + <p> + “No one will ever write it,” answered Smith, and cleared the + rockery with a flying leap. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” said Rosamund to Michael Moon, “he ought to be + sent to an asylum. Don’t you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” inquired Michael, rather sombrely; his + long, swarthy head was dark against the sunset, and, either by accident or + mood, he had the look of something isolated and even hostile amid the + social extravagance of the garden. + </p> + <p> + “I only said Mr. Smith ought to go to an asylum,” repeated the + lady. + </p> + <p> + The lean face seemed to grow longer and longer, for Moon was unmistakably + sneering. “No,” he said; “I don’t think it’s + at all necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Rosamund quickly. “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he is in one now,” answered Michael Moon, in a quiet + but ugly voice. “Why, didn’t you know?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried the girl, and there was a break in her voice; + for the Irishman’s face and voice were really almost creepy. With + his dark figure and dark sayings in all that sunshine he looked like the + devil in paradise. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry,” he continued, with a sort of harsh + humility. “Of course we don’t talk about it much... but I + thought we all really knew.” + </p> + <p> + “Knew what?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” answered Moon, “that Beacon House is a certain + rather singular sort of house—a house with the tiles loose, shall we + say? Innocent Smith is only the doctor that visits us; hadn’t you + come when he called before? As most of our maladies are melancholic, of + course he has to be extra cheery. Sanity, of course, seems a very + bumptious eccentric thing to us. Jumping over a wall, climbing a tree—that’s + his bedside manner.” + </p> + <p> + “You daren’t say such a thing!” cried Rosamund in a + rage. “You daren’t suggest that I—” + </p> + <p> + “Not more than I am,” said Michael soothingly; “not more + than the rest of us. Haven’t you ever noticed that Miss Duke never + sits still—a notorious sign? Haven’t you ever observed that + Inglewood is always washing his hands— a known mark of mental + disease? I, of course, am a dipsomaniac.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe you,” broke out his companion, not + without agitation. “I’ve heard you had some bad habits—” + </p> + <p> + “All habits are bad habits,” said Michael, with deadly calm. + “Madness does not come by breaking out, but by giving in; by + settling down in some dirty, little, self-repeating circle of ideas; by + being tamed. YOU went mad about money, because you’re an heiress.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a lie,” cried Rosamund furiously. “I never + was mean about money.” + </p> + <p> + “You were worse,” said Michael, in a low voice and yet + violently. “You thought that other people were. You thought every + man who came near you must be a fortune-hunter; you would not let yourself + go and be sane; and now you’re mad and I’m mad, and serve us + right.” + </p> + <p> + “You brute!” said Rosamund, quite white. “And is this + true?” + </p> + <p> + With the intellectual cruelty of which the Celt is capable when his + abysses are in revolt, Michael was silent for some seconds, and then + stepped back with an ironical bow. “Not literally true, of course,” + he said; “only really true. An allegory, shall we say? a social + satire.” + </p> + <p> + “And I hate and despise your satires,” cried Rosamund Hunt, + letting loose her whole forcible female personality like a cyclone, and + speaking every word to wound. “I despise it as I despise your rank + tobacco, and your nasty, loungy ways, and your snarling, and your + Radicalism, and your old clothes, and your potty little newspaper, and + your rotten failure at everything. I don’t care whether you call it + snobbishness or not, I like life and success, and jolly things to look at, + and action. You won’t frighten me with Diogenes; I prefer Alexander.” + </p> + <p> + “Victrix causa deae—” said Michael gloomily; and this + angered her more, as, not knowing what it meant, she imagined it to be + witty. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I dare say you know Greek,” she said, with cheerful + inaccuracy; “you haven’t done much with that either.” + And she crossed the garden, pursuing the vanished Innocent and Mary. + </p> + <p> + In doing so she passed Inglewood, who was returning to the house slowly, + and with a thought-clouded brow. He was one of those men who are quite + clever, but quite the reverse of quick. As he came back out of the sunset + garden into the twilight parlour, Diana Duke slipped swiftly to her feet + and began putting away the tea things. But it was not before Inglewood had + seen an instantaneous picture so unique that he might well have + snapshotted it with his everlasting camera. For Diana had been sitting in + front of her unfinished work with her chin on her hand, looking straight + out of the window in pure thoughtless thought. + </p> + <p> + “You are busy,” said Arthur, oddly embarrassed with what he + had seen, and wishing to ignore it. + </p> + <p> + “There’s no time for dreaming in this world,” answered + the young lady with her back to him. + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking lately,” said Inglewood in a low voice, + “that there’s no time for waking up.” + </p> + <p> + She did not reply, and he walked to the window and looked out on the + garden. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t smoke or drink, you know,” he said + irrelevantly, “because I think they’re drugs. And yet I fancy + all hobbies, like my camera and bicycle, are drugs too. Getting under a + black hood, getting into a dark room—getting into a hole anyhow. + Drugging myself with speed, and sunshine, and fatigue, and fresh air. + Pedalling the machine so fast that I turn into a machine myself. That’s + the matter with all of us. We’re too busy to wake up.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the girl solidly, “what is there to wake up + to?” + </p> + <p> + “There must be!” cried Inglewood, turning round in a singular + excitement—“there must be something to wake up to! All we do + is preparations—your cleanliness, and my healthiness, and Warner’s + scientific appliances. We’re always preparing for something—something + that never comes off. I ventilate the house, and you sweep the house; but + what is going to HAPPEN in the house?” + </p> + <p> + She was looking at him quietly, but with very bright eyes, and seemed to + be searching for some form of words which she could not find. + </p> + <p> + Before she could speak the door burst open, and the boisterous Rosamund + Hunt, in her flamboyant white hat, boa, and parasol, stood framed in the + doorway. She was in a breathing heat, and on her open face was an + expression of the most infantile astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here’s a fine game!” she said, panting. “What + am I to do now, I wonder? I’ve wired for Dr. Warner; that’s + all I can think of doing.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” asked Diana, rather sharply, but moving + forward like one used to be called upon for assistance. + </p> + <p> + “It’s Mary,” said the heiress, “my companion Mary + Gray: that cracked friend of yours called Smith has proposed to her in the + garden, after ten hours’ acquaintance, and he wants to go off with + her now for a special licence.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur Inglewood walked to the open French windows and looked out on the + garden, still golden with evening light. Nothing moved there but a bird or + two hopping and twittering; but beyond the hedge and railings, in the road + outside the garden gate, a hansom cab was waiting, with the yellow + Gladstone bag on top of it. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV — The Garden of the God + </h2> + <p> + Diana Duke seemed inexplicably irritated at the abrupt entrance and + utterance of the other girl. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said shortly, “I suppose Miss Gray can + decline him if she doesn’t want to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “But she DOES want to marry him!” cried Rosamund in + exasperation. “She’s a wild, wicked fool, and I won’t be + parted from her.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Diana icily, “but I really don’t + see what we can do.” + </p> + <p> + “But the man’s balmy, Diana,” reasoned her friend + angrily. “I can’t let my nice governess marry a man that’s + balmy! You or somebody MUST stop it!—Mr. Inglewood, you’re a + man; go and tell them they simply can’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, it seems to me they simply can,” said + Inglewood, with a depressed air. “I have far less right of + intervention than Miss Duke, besides having, of course, far less moral + force than she.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven’t either of you got much,” cried Rosamund, + the last stays of her formidable temper giving way; “I think I’ll + go somewhere else for a little sense and pluck. I think I know some one + who will help me more than you do, at any rate... he’s a + cantankerous beast, but he’s a man, and has a mind, and knows it...” + And she flung out into the garden, with cheeks aflame, and the parasol + whirling like a Catherine wheel. + </p> + <p> + She found Michael Moon standing under the garden tree, looking over the + hedge; hunched like a bird of prey, with his large pipe hanging down his + long blue chin. The very hardness of his expression pleased her, after the + nonsense of the new engagement and the shilly-shallying of her other + friends. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry I was cross, Mr. Moon,” she said frankly. “I + hated you for being a cynic; but I’ve been well punished, for I want + a cynic just now. I’ve had my fill of sentiment—I’m fed + up with it. The world’s gone mad, Mr. Moon—all except the + cynics, I think. That maniac Smith wants to marry my old friend Mary, and + she— and she—doesn’t seem to mind.” + </p> + <p> + Seeing his attentive face still undisturbedly smoking, she added smartly, + “I’m not joking; that’s Mr. Smith’s cab outside. + He swears he’ll take her off now to his aunt’s, and go for a + special licence. Do give me some practical advice, Mr. Moon.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Moon took his pipe out of his mouth, held it in his hand for an + instant reflectively, and then tossed it to the other side of the garden. + “My practical advice to you is this,” he said: “Let him + go for his special licence, and ask him to get another one for you and me.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that one of your jokes?” asked the young lady. “Do + say what you really mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that Innocent Smith is a man of business,” said Moon + with ponderous precision—“a plain, practical man: a man of + affairs; a man of facts and the daylight. He has let down twenty ton of + good building bricks suddenly on my head, and I am glad to say they have + woken me up. We went to sleep a little while ago on this very lawn, in + this very sunlight. We have had a little nap for five years or so, but now + we’re going to be married, Rosamund, and I can’t see why that + cab...” + </p> + <p> + “Really,” said Rosamund stoutly, “I don’t know + what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “What a lie!” cried Michael, advancing on her with brightening + eyes. “I’m all for lies in an ordinary way; but don’t + you see that to-night they won’t do? We’ve wandered into a + world of facts, old girl. That grass growing, and that sun going down, and + that cab at the door, are facts. You used to torment and excuse yourself + by saying I was after your money, and didn’t really love you. But if + I stood here now and told you I didn’t love you—you wouldn’t + believe me: for truth is in this garden to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Mr. Moon...” said Rosamund, rather more faintly. + </p> + <p> + He kept two big blue magnetic eyes fixed on her face. “Is my name + Moon?” he asked. “Is your name Hunt? On my honour, they sound + to me as quaint and as distant as Red Indian names. It’s as if your + name was `Swim’ and my name was `Sunrise.’ But our real names + are Husband and Wife, as they were when we fell asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “It is no good,” said Rosamund, with real tears in her eyes; + “one can never go back.” + </p> + <p> + “I can go where I damn please,” said Michael, “and I can + carry you on my shoulder.” + </p> + <p> + “But really, Michael, really, you must stop and think!” cried + the girl earnestly. “You could carry me off my feet, I dare say, + soul and body, but it may be bitter bad business for all that. These + things done in that romantic rush, like Mr. Smith’s, they— + they do attract women, I don’t deny it. As you say, we’re all + telling the truth to-night. They’ve attracted poor Mary, for one. + They attract me, Michael. But the cold fact remains: imprudent marriages + do lead to long unhappiness and disappointment— you’ve got + used to your drinks and things—I shan’t be pretty much longer—” + </p> + <p> + “Imprudent marriages!” roared Michael. “And pray where + in earth or heaven are there any prudent marriages? Might as well talk + about prudent suicides. You and I have dawdled round each other long + enough, and are we any safer than Smith and Mary Gray, who met last night? + You never know a husband till you marry him. Unhappy! of course you’ll + be unhappy. Who the devil are you that you shouldn’t be unhappy, + like the mother that bore you? Disappointed! of course we’ll be + disappointed. I, for one, don’t expect till I die to be so good a + man as I am at this minute— a tower with all the trumpets shouting.” + </p> + <p> + “You see all this,” said Rosamund, with a grand sincerity in + her solid face, “and do you really want to marry me?” + </p> + <p> + “My darling, what else is there to do?” reasoned the Irishman. + “What other occupation is there for an active man on this earth, + except to marry you? What’s the alternative to marriage, barring + sleep? It’s not liberty, Rosamund. Unless you marry God, as our nuns + do in Ireland, you must marry Man—that is Me. The only third thing + is to marry yourself— yourself, yourself, yourself—the only + companion that is never satisfied— and never satisfactory.” + </p> + <p> + “Michael,” said Miss Hunt, in a very soft voice, “if you + won’t talk so much, I’ll marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no time for talking,” cried Michael Moon; “singing + is the only thing. Can’t you find that mandoline of yours, Rosamund?” + </p> + <p> + “Go and fetch it for me,” said Rosamund, with crisp and sharp + authority. + </p> + <p> + The lounging Mr. Moon stood for one split second astonished; then he shot + away across the lawn, as if shod with the feathered shoes out of the Greek + fairy tale. He cleared three yards and fifteen daisies at a leap, out of + mere bodily levity; but when he came within a yard or two of the open + parlour windows, his flying feet fell in their old manner like lead; he + twisted round and came back slowly, whistling. The events of that + enchanted evening were not at an end. + </p> + <p> + Inside the dark sitting-room of which Moon had caught a glimpse a curious + thing had happened, almost an instant after the intemperate exit of + Rosamund. It was something which, occurring in that obscure parlour, + seemed to Arthur Inglewood like heaven and earth turning head over heels, + the sea being the ceiling and the stars the floor. No words can express + how it astonished him, as it astonishes all simple men when it happens. + Yet the stiffest female stoicism seems separated from it only by a sheet + of paper or a sheet of steel. It indicates no surrender, far less any + sympathy. The most rigid and ruthless woman can begin to cry, just as the + most effeminate man can grow a beard. It is a separate sexual power, and + proves nothing one way or the other about force of character. But to young + men ignorant of women, like Arthur Inglewood, to see Diana Duke crying was + like seeing a motor-car shedding tears of petrol. + </p> + <p> + He could never have given (even if his really manly modesty had permitted + it) any vaguest vision of what he did when he saw that portent. He acted + as men do when a theatre catches fire—very differently from how they + would have conceived themselves as acting, whether for better or worse. He + had a faint memory of certain half-stifled explanations, that the heiress + was the one really paying guest, and she would go, and the bailiffs (in + consequence) would come; but after that he knew nothing of his own conduct + except by the protests it evoked. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me alone, Mr. Inglewood—leave me alone; that’s + not the way to help.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can help you,” said Arthur, with grinding certainty; + “I can, I can, I can...” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you said,” cried the girl, “that you were much + weaker than me.” + </p> + <p> + “So I am weaker than you,” said Arthur, in a voice that went + vibrating through everything, “but not just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Let go my hands!” cried Diana. “I won’t be + bullied.” + </p> + <p> + In one element he was much stronger than she—the matter of humour. + This leapt up in him suddenly, and he laughed, saying: “Well, you + are mean. You know quite well you’ll bully me all the rest of my + life. You might allow a man the one minute of his life when he’s + allowed to bully.” + </p> + <p> + It was as extraordinary for him to laugh as for her to cry, and for the + first time since her childhood Diana was entirely off her guard. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean you want to marry me?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, there’s a cab at the door!” cried Inglewood, + springing up with an unconscious energy and bursting open the glass doors + that led into the garden. + </p> + <p> + As he led her out by the hand they realized somehow for the first time + that the house and garden were on a steep height over London. And yet, + though they felt the place to be uplifted, they felt it also to be secret: + it was like some round walled garden on the top of one of the turrets of + heaven. + </p> + <p> + Inglewood looked around dreamily, his brown eyes devouring all sorts of + details with a senseless delight. He noticed for the first time that the + railings of the gate beyond the garden bushes were moulded like little + spearheads and painted blue. He noticed that one of the blue spears was + loosened in its place, and hung sideways; and this almost made him laugh. + He thought it somehow exquisitely harmless and funny that the railing + should be crooked; he thought he should like to know how it happened, who + did it, and how the man was getting on. + </p> + <p> + When they were gone a few feet across that fiery grass they realized that + they were not alone. Rosamund Hunt and the eccentric Mr. Moon, both of + whom they had last seen in the blackest temper of detachment, were + standing together on the lawn. They were standing in quite an ordinary + manner, and yet they looked somehow like people in a book. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Diana, “what lovely air!” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” called out Rosamund, with a pleasure so positive + that it rang out like a complaint. “It’s just like that + horrid, beastly fizzy stuff they gave me that made me feel happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it isn’t like anything but itself!” answered Diana, + breathing deeply. “Why, it’s all cold, and yet it feels like + fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Balmy is the word we use in Fleet Street,” said Mr. Moon. + “Balmy—especially on the crumpet.” And he fanned himself + quite unnecessarily with his straw hat. They were all full of little leaps + and pulsations of objectless and airy energy. Diana stirred and stretched + her long arms rigidly, as if crucified, in a sort of excruciating + restfulness; Michael stood still for long intervals, with gathered + muscles, then spun round like a teetotum, and stood still again; Rosamund + did not trip, for women never trip, except when they fall on their noses, + but she struck the ground with her foot as she moved, as if to some + inaudible dance tune; and Inglewood, leaning quite quietly against a tree, + had unconsciously clutched a branch and shaken it with a creative + violence. Those giant gestures of Man, that made the high statues and the + strokes of war, tossed and tormented all their limbs. Silently as they + strolled and stood they were bursting like batteries with an animal + magnetism. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” cried Moon quite suddenly, stretching out a hand on + each side, “let’s dance round that bush!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what bush do you mean?” asked Rosamund, looking round + with a sort of radiant rudeness. + </p> + <p> + “The bush that isn’t there,” said Michael—“the + Mulberry Bush.” + </p> + <p> + They had taken each other’s hands, half laughing and quite ritually; + and before they could disconnect again Michael spun them all round, like a + demon spinning the world for a top. Diana felt, as the circle of the + horizon flew instantaneously around her, a far aerial sense of the ring of + heights beyond London and corners where she had climbed as a child; she + seemed almost to hear the rooks cawing about the old pines on Highgate, or + to see the glowworms gathering and kindling in the woods of Box Hill. + </p> + <p> + The circle broke—as all such perfect circles of levity must break— + and sent its author, Michael, flying, as by centrifugal force, far away + against the blue rails of the gate. When reeling there he suddenly raised + shout after shout of a new and quite dramatic character. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it’s Warner!” he shouted, waving his arms. “It’s + jolly old Warner— with a new silk hat and the old silk moustache!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that Dr. Warner?” cried Rosamund, bounding forward in a + burst of memory, amusement, and distress. “Oh, I’m so sorry! + Oh, do tell him it’s all right!” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s take hands and tell him,” said Michael Moon. For + indeed, while they were talking, another hansom cab had dashed up behind + the one already waiting, and Dr. Herbert Warner, leaving a companion in + the cab, had carefully deposited himself on the pavement. + </p> + <p> + Now, when you are an eminent physician and are wired for by an heiress to + come to a case of dangerous mania, and when, as you come in through the + garden to the house, the heiress and her landlady and two of the gentlemen + boarders join hands and dance round you in a ring, calling out, “It’s + all right! it’s all right!” you are apt to be flustered and + even displeased. Dr. Warner was a placid but hardly a placable person. The + two things are by no means the same; and even when Moon explained to him + that he, Warner, with his high hat and tall, solid figure, was just such a + classic figure as OUGHT to be danced round by a ring of laughing maidens + on some old golden Greek seashore— even then he seemed to miss the + point of the general rejoicing. + </p> + <p> + “Inglewood!” cried Dr. Warner, fixing his former disciple with + a stare, “are you mad?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur flushed to the roots of his brown hair, but he answered, easily and + quietly enough, “Not now. The truth is, Warner, I’ve just made + a rather important medical discovery—quite in your line.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked the great doctor stiffly—“what + discovery?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve discovered that health really is catching, like disease,” + answered Arthur. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; sanity has broken out, and is spreading,” said Michael, + performing a ~pas seul~ with a thoughtful expression. “Twenty + thousand more cases taken to the hospitals; nurses employed night and day.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Warner studied Michael’s grave face and lightly moving legs with + an unfathomed wonder. “And is THIS, may I ask,” he said, + “the sanity that is spreading?” + </p> + <p> + “You must forgive me, Dr. Warner,” cried Rosamund Hunt + heartily. “I know I’ve treated you badly; but indeed it was + all a mistake. I was in a frightfully bad temper when I sent for you, but + now it all seems like a dream—and and Mr. Smith is the sweetest, + most sensible, most delightful old thing that ever existed, and he may + marry any one he likes—except me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should suggest Mrs. Duke,” said Michael. + </p> + <p> + The gravity of Dr. Warner’s face increased. He took a slip of pink + paper from his waistcoat pocket, with his pale blue eyes quietly fixed on + Rosamund’s face all the time. He spoke with a not inexcusable + frigidity. + </p> + <p> + “Really, Miss Hunt,” he said, “you are not yet very + reassuring. You sent me this wire only half an hour ago: `Come at once, if + possible, with another doctor. Man—Innocent Smith—gone mad on + premises, and doing dreadful things. Do you know anything of him?’ I + went round at once to a distinguished colleague of mine, a doctor who is + also a private detective and an authority on criminal lunacy; he has come + round with me, and is waiting in the cab. Now you calmly tell me that this + criminal madman is a highly sweet and sane old thing, with accompaniments + that set me speculating on your own definition of sanity. I hardly + comprehend the change.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how can one explain a change in sun and moon and everybody’s + soul?” cried Rosamund, in despair. “Must I confess we had got + so morbid as to think him mad merely because he wanted to get married; and + that we didn’t even know it was only because we wanted to get + married ourselves? We’ll humiliate ourselves, if you like, doctor; + we’re happy enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mr. Smith?” asked Warner of Inglewood very sharply. + </p> + <p> + Arthur started; he had forgotten all about the central figure of their + farce, who had not been visible for an hour or more. + </p> + <p> + “I—I think he’s on the other side of the house, by the + dustbin,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “He may be on the road to Russia,” said Warner, “but he + must be found.” And he strode away and disappeared round a corner of + the house by the sunflowers. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” said Rosamund, “he won’t really + interfere with Mr. Smith.” + </p> + <p> + “Interfere with the daisies!” said Michael with a snort. + “A man can’t be locked up for falling in love—at least I + hope not.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I think even a doctor couldn’t make a disease out of him. + He’d throw off the doctor like the disease, don’t you know? I + believe it’s a case of a sort of holy well. I believe Innocent Smith + is simply innocent, and that is why he is so extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + It was Rosamund who spoke, restlessly tracing circles in the grass with + the point of her white shoe. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Inglewood, “that Smith is not + extraordinary at all. He’s comic just because he’s so + startlingly commonplace. Don’t you know what it is to be all one + family circle, with aunts and uncles, when a schoolboy comes home for the + holidays? That bag there on the cab is only a schoolboy’s hamper. + This tree here in the garden is only the sort of tree that any schoolboy + would have climbed. Yes, that’s the thing that has haunted us all + about him, the thing we could never fit a word to. Whether he is my old + schoolfellow or no, at least he is all my old schoolfellows. He is the + endless bun-eating, ball-throwing animal that we have all been.” + </p> + <p> + “That is only you absurd boys,” said Diana. “I don’t + believe any girl was ever so silly, and I’m sure no girl was ever so + happy, except—” and she stopped. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you the truth about Innocent Smith,” said Michael + Moon in a low voice. “Dr. Warner has gone to look for him in vain. + He is not there. Haven’t you noticed that we never saw him since we + found ourselves? He was an astral baby born on all four of us; he was only + our own youth returned. Long before poor old Warner had clambered out of + his cab, the thing we called Smith had dissolved into dew and light on + this lawn. Once or twice more, by the mercy of God, we may feel the thing, + but the man we shall never see. In a spring garden before breakfast we + shall smell the smell called Smith. In the snapping of brisk twigs in tiny + fires we shall hear a noise named Smith. Everything insatiable and + innocent in the grasses that gobble up the earth like babies at a bun + feast, in the white mornings that split the sky as a boy splits up white + firwood, we may feel for one instant the presence of an impetuous purity; + but his innocence was too close to the unconsciousness of inanimate things + not to melt back at a mere touch into the mild hedges and heavens; he—” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted from behind the house by a bang like that of a bomb. + Almost at the same instant the stranger in the cab sprang out of it, + leaving it rocking upon the stones of the road. He clutched the blue + railings of the garden, and peered eagerly over them in the direction of + the noise. He was a small, loose, yet alert man, very thin, with a face + that seemed made out of fish bones, and a silk hat quite as rigid and + resplendent as Warner’s, but thrust back recklessly on the hinder + part of his head. + </p> + <p> + “Murder!” he shrieked, in a high and feminine but very + penetrating voice. “Stop that murderer there!” + </p> + <p> + Even as he shrieked a second shot shook the lower windows of the house, + and with the noise of it Dr. Herbert Warner came flying round the corner + like a leaping rabbit. Yet before he had reached the group a third + discharge had deafened them, and they saw with their own eyes two spots of + white sky drilled through the second of the unhappy Herbert’s high + hats. The next moment the fugitive physician fell over a flowerpot, and + came down on all fours, staring like a cow. The hat with the two + shot-holes in it rolled upon the gravel path before him, and Innocent + Smith came round the corner like a railway train. He was looking twice his + proper size—a giant clad in green, the big revolver still smoking in + his hand, his face sanguine and in shadow, his eyes blazing like all + stars, and his yellow hair standing out all ways like Struwelpeter’s. + </p> + <p> + Though this startling scene hung but an instant in stillness, Inglewood + had time to feel once more what he had felt when he saw the other lovers + standing on the lawn—the sensation of a certain cut and coloured + clearness that belongs rather to the things of art than to the things of + experience. The broken flowerpot with its red-hot geraniums, the green + bulk of Smith and the black bulk of Warner, the blue-spiked railings + behind, clutched by the stranger’s yellow vulture claws and peered + over by his long vulture neck, the silk hat on the gravel, and the little + cloudlet of smoke floating across the garden as innocently as the puff of + a cigarette— all these seemed unnaturally distinct and definite. + They existed, like symbols, in an ecstasy of separation. Indeed, every + object grew more and more particular and precious because the whole + picture was breaking up. Things look so bright just before they burst. + </p> + <p> + Long before his fancies had begun, let alone ceased, Arthur had stepped + across and taken one of Smith’s arms. Simultaneously the little + stranger had run up the steps and taken the other. Smith went into peals + of laughter, and surrendered his pistol with perfect willingness. Moon + raised the doctor to his feet, and then went and leaned sullenly on the + garden gate. The girls were quiet and vigilant, as good women mostly are + in instants of catastrophe, but their faces showed that, somehow or other, + a light had been dashed out of the sky. The doctor himself, when he had + risen, collected his hat and wits, and dusting himself down with an air of + great disgust, turned to them in brief apology. He was very white with his + recent panic, but he spoke with perfect self-control. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse us, ladies,” he said; “my friend and + Mr. Inglewood are both scientists in their several ways. I think we had + better all take Mr. Smith indoors, and communicate with you later.” + </p> + <p> + And under the guard of the three natural philosophers the disarmed Smith + was led tactfully into the house, still roaring with laughter. + </p> + <p> + From time to time during the next twenty minutes his distant boom of mirth + could again be heard through the half-open window; but there came no echo + of the quiet voices of the physicians. The girls walked about the garden + together, rubbing up each other’s spirits as best they might; + Michael Moon still hung heavily against the gate. Somewhere about the + expiration of that time Dr. Warner came out of the house with a face less + pale but even more stern, and the little man with the fish-bone face + advanced gravely in his rear. And if the face of Warner in the sunlight + was that of a hanging judge, the face of the little man behind was more + like a death’s head. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Hunt,” said Dr. Herbert Warner, “I only wish to + offer you my warm thanks and admiration. By your prompt courage and wisdom + in sending for us by wire this evening, you have enabled us to capture and + put out of mischief one of the most cruel and terrible of the enemies of + humanity— a criminal whose plausibility and pitilessness have never + been before combined in flesh.” + </p> + <p> + Rosamund looked across at him with a white, blank face and blinking eyes. + “What do you mean?” she asked. “You can’t mean Mr. + Smith?” + </p> + <p> + “He has gone by many other names,” said the doctor gravely, + “and not one he did not leave to be cursed behind him. That man, + Miss Hunt, has left a track of blood and tears across the world. Whether + he is mad as well as wicked, we are trying, in the interests of science, + to discover. In any case, we shall have to take him to a magistrate first, + even if only on the road to a lunatic asylum. But the lunatic asylum in + which he is confined will have to be sealed with wall within wall, and + ringed with guns like a fortress, or he will break out again to bring + forth carnage and darkness on the earth.” + </p> + <p> + Rosamund looked at the two doctors, her face growing paler and paler. Then + her eyes strayed to Michael, who was leaning on the gate; but he continued + to lean on it without moving, with his face turned away towards the + darkening road. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter V — The Allegorical Practical Joker + </h2> + <p> + The criminal specialist who had come with Dr. Warner was a somewhat more + urbane and even dapper figure than he had appeared when clutching the + railings and craning his neck into the garden. He even looked + comparatively young when he took his hat off, having fair hair parted in + the middle and carefully curled on each side, and lively movements, + especially of the hands. He had a dandified monocle slung round his neck + by a broad black ribbon, and a big bow tie, as if a big American moth had + alighted on him. His dress and gestures were bright enough for a boy’s; + it was only when you looked at the fish-bone face that you beheld + something acrid and old. His manners were excellent, though hardly + English, and he had two half-conscious tricks by which people who only met + him once remembered him. One was a trick of closing his eyes when he + wished to be particularly polite; the other was one of lifting his joined + thumb and forefinger in the air as if holding a pinch of snuff, when he + was hesitating or hovering over a word. But those who were longer in his + company tended to forget these oddities in the stream of his quaint and + solemn conversation and really singular views. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Hunt,” said Dr. Warner, “this is Dr. Cyrus Pym.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Cyrus Pym shut his eyes during the introduction, rather as if he were + “playing fair” in some child’s game, and gave a prompt + little bow, which somehow suddenly revealed him as a citizen of the United + States. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Cyrus Pym,” continued Warner (Dr. Pym shut his eyes + again), “is perhaps the first criminological expert of America. We + are very fortunate to be able to consult with him in this extraordinary + case—” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t make head or tail of anything,” said Rosamund. + “How can poor Mr. Smith be so dreadful as he is by your account?” + </p> + <p> + “Or by your telegram,” said Herbert Warner, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don’t understand,” cried the girl impatiently. + “Why, he’s done us all more good than going to church.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can explain to the young lady,” said Dr. Cyrus Pym. + “This criminal or maniac Smith is a very genius of evil, and has a + method of his own, a method of the most daring ingenuity. He is popular + wherever he goes, for he invades every house as an uproarious child. + People are getting suspicious of all the respectable disguises for a + scoundrel; so he always uses the disguise of—what shall I say—the + Bohemian, the blameless Bohemian. He always carries people off their feet. + People are used to the mask of conventional good conduct. He goes in for + eccentric good-nature. You expect a Don Juan to dress up as a solemn and + solid Spanish merchant; but you’re not prepared when he dresses up + as Don Quixote. You expect a humbug to behave like Sir Charles Grandison; + because (with all respect, Miss Hunt, for the deep, tear-moving tenderness + of Samuel Richardson) Sir Charles Grandison so often behaved like a + humbug. But no real red-blooded citizen is quite ready for a humbug that + models himself not on Sir Charles Grandison but on Sir Roger de Coverly. + Setting up to be a good man a little cracked is a new criminal incognito, + Miss Hunt. It’s been a great notion, and uncommonly successful; but + its success just makes it mighty cruel. I can forgive Dick Turpin if he + impersonates Dr. Busby; I can’t forgive him when he impersonates Dr. + Johnson. The saint with a tile loose is a bit too sacred, I guess, to be + parodied.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you know,” cried Rosamund desperately, “that + Mr. Smith is a known criminal?” + </p> + <p> + “I collated all the documents,” said the American, “when + my friend Warner knocked me up on receipt of your cable. It is my + professional affair to know these facts, Miss Hunt; and there’s no + more doubt about them than about the Bradshaw down at the depot. This man + has hitherto escaped the law, through his admirable affectations of + infancy or insanity. But I myself, as a specialist, have privately + authenticated notes of some eighteen or twenty crimes attempted or + achieved in this manner. He comes to houses as he has to this, and gets a + grand popularity. He makes things go. They do go; when he’s gone the + things are gone. Gone, Miss Hunt, gone, a man’s life or a man’s + spoons, or more often a woman. I assure you I have all the memoranda.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen them,” said Warner solidly, “I can assure + you that all this is correct.” + </p> + <p> + “The most unmanly aspect, according to my feelings,” went on + the American doctor, “is this perpetual deception of innocent women + by a wild simulation of innocence. From almost every house where this + great imaginative devil has been, he has taken some poor girl away with + him; some say he’s got a hypnotic eye with his other queer features, + and that they go like automata. What’s become of all those poor + girls nobody knows. Murdered, I dare say; for we’ve lots of + instances, besides this one, of his turning his hand to murder, though + none ever brought him under the law. Anyhow, our most modern methods of + research can’t find any trace of the wretched women. It’s when + I think of them that I am really moved, Miss Hunt. And I’ve really + nothing else to say just now except what Dr. Warner has said.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” said Warner, with a smile that seemed moulded in + marble—“that we all have to thank you very much for that + telegram.” + </p> + <p> + The little Yankee scientist had been speaking with such evident sincerity + that one forgot the tricks of his voice and manner— the falling + eyelids, the rising intonation, and the poised finger and thumb—which + were at other times a little comic. It was not so much that he was + cleverer than Warner; perhaps he was not so clever, though he was more + celebrated. But he had what Warner never had, a fresh and unaffected + seriousness— the great American virtue of simplicity. Rosamund + knitted her brows and looked gloomily toward the darkening house that + contained the dark prodigy. + </p> + <p> + Broad daylight still endured; but it had already changed from gold to + silver, and was changing from silver to gray. The long plumy shadows of + the one or two trees in the garden faded more and more upon a dead + background of dusk. In the sharpest and deepest shadow, which was the + entrance to the house by the big French windows, Rosamund could watch a + hurried consultation between Inglewood (who was still left in charge of + the mysterious captive) and Diana, who had moved to his assistance from + without. After a few minutes and gestures they went inside, shutting the + glass doors upon the garden; and the garden seemed to grow grayer still. + </p> + <p> + The American gentleman named Pym seemed to be turning and on the move in + the same direction; but before he started he spoke to Rosamund with a + flash of that guileless tact which redeemed much of his childish vanity, + and with something of that spontaneous poetry which made it difficult, + pedantic as he was, to call him a pedant. + </p> + <p> + “I’m vurry sorry, Miss Hunt,” he said; “but Dr. + Warner and I, as two quali-FIED practitioners, had better take Mr. Smith + away in that cab, and the less said about it the better. Don’t you + agitate yourself, Miss Hunt. You’ve just got to think that we’re + taking away a monstrosity, something that oughtn’t to be at all—something + like one of those gods in your Britannic Museum, all wings, and beards, + and legs, and eyes, and no shape. That’s what Smith is, and you + shall soon be quit of him.” + </p> + <p> + He had already taken a step towards the house, and Warner was about to + follow him, when the glass doors were opened again and Diana Duke came out + with more than her usual quickness across the lawn. Her face was aquiver + with worry and excitement, and her dark earnest eyes fixed only on the + other girl. + </p> + <p> + “Rosamund,” she cried in despair, “what shall I do with + her?” + </p> + <p> + “With her?” cried Miss Hunt, with a violent jump. “O + lord, he isn’t a woman too, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no,” said Dr. Pym soothingly, as if in common + fairness. “A woman? no, really, he is not so bad as that.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean your friend Mary Gray,” retorted Diana with equal + tartness. “What on earth am I to do with her?” + </p> + <p> + “How can we tell her about Smith, you mean,” answered + Rosamund, her face at once clouded and softening. “Yes, it will be + pretty painful.” + </p> + <p> + “But I HAVE told her,” exploded Diana, with more than her + congenital exasperation. “I have told her, and she doesn’t + seem to mind. She still says she’s going away with Smith in that + cab.” + </p> + <p> + “But it’s impossible!” ejaculated Rosamund. “Why, + Mary is really religious. She—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped in time to realize that Mary Gray was comparatively close to + her on the lawn. Her quiet companion had come down very quietly into the + garden, but dressed very decisively for travel. She had a neat but very + ancient blue tam-o’-shanter on her head, and was pulling some rather + threadbare gray gloves on to her hands. Yet the two tints fitted + excellently with her heavy copper-coloured hair; the more excellently for + the touch of shabbiness: for a woman’s clothes never suit her so + well as when they seem to suit her by accident. + </p> + <p> + But in this case the woman had a quality yet more unique and attractive. + In such gray hours, when the sun is sunk and the skies are already sad, it + will often happen that one reflection at some occasional angle will cause + to linger the last of the light. A scrap of window, a scrap of water, a + scrap of looking-glass, will be full of the fire that is lost to all the + rest of the earth. The quaint, almost triangular face of Mary Gray was + like some triangular piece of mirror that could still repeat the splendour + of hours before. Mary, though she was always graceful, could never before + have properly been called beautiful; and yet her happiness amid all that + misery was so beautiful as to make a man catch his breath. + </p> + <p> + “O Diana,” cried Rosamund in a lower voice and altering her + phrase; “but how did you tell her?” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite easy to tell her,” answered Diana sombrely; + “it makes no impression at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I’ve kept everything waiting,” said + Mary Gray apologetically, “and now we must really say good-bye. + Innocent is taking me to his aunt’s over at Hampstead, and I’m + afraid she goes to bed early.” + </p> + <p> + Her words were quite casual and practical, but there was a sort of sleepy + light in her eyes that was more baffling than darkness; she was like one + speaking absently with her eye on some very distant object. + </p> + <p> + “Mary, Mary,” cried Rosamund, almost breaking down, “I’m + so sorry about it, but the thing can’t be at all. We—we have + found out all about Mr. Smith.” + </p> + <p> + “All?” repeated Mary, with a low and curious intonation; + “why, that must be awfully exciting.” + </p> + <p> + There was no noise for an instant and no motion except that the silent + Michael Moon, leaning on the gate, lifted his head, as it might be to + listen. Then Rosamund remaining speechless, Dr. Pym came to her rescue in + a definite way. + </p> + <p> + “To begin with,” he said, “this man Smith is constantly + attempting murder. The Warden of Brakespeare College—” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Mary, with a vague but radiant smile. “Innocent + told me.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say what he told you,” replied Pym quickly, + “but I’m very much afraid it wasn’t true. The plain + truth is that the man’s stained with every known human crime. I + assure you I have all the documents. I have evidence of his committing + burglary, signed by a most eminent English curate. I have—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but there were two curates,” cried Mary, with a certain + gentle eagerness; “that was what made it so much funnier.” + </p> + <p> + The darkened glass doors of the house opened once more, and Inglewood + appeared for an instant, making a sort of signal. The American doctor + bowed, the English doctor did not, but they both set out stolidly towards + the house. No one else moved, not even Michael hanging on the gate; but + the back of his head and shoulders had still an indescribable indication + that he was listening to every word. + </p> + <p> + “But don’t you understand, Mary,” cried Rosamund in + despair; “don’t you know that awful things have happened even + before our very eyes. I should have thought you would have heard the + revolver shots upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I heard the shots,” said Mary almost brightly; “but + I was busy packing just then. And Innocent had told me he was going to + shoot at Dr. Warner; so it wasn’t worth while to come down.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t understand what you mean,” cried Rosamund + Hunt, stamping, “but you must and shall understand what I mean. I + don’t care how cruelly I put it, if only I can save you. I mean that + your Innocent Smith is the most awfully wicked man in the world. He has + sent bullets at lots of other men and gone off in cabs with lots of other + women. And he seems to have killed the women too, for nobody can find + them.” + </p> + <p> + “He is really rather naughty sometimes,” said Mary Gray, + laughing softly as she buttoned her old gray gloves. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this is really mesmerism, or something,” said Rosamund, + and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment the two black-clad doctors appeared out of the house + with their great green-clad captive between them. He made no resistance, + but was still laughing in a groggy and half-witted style. Arthur Inglewood + followed in the rear, a dark and red study in the last shades of distress + and shame. In this black, funereal, and painfully realistic style the exit + from Beacon House was made by a man whose entrance a day before had been + effected by the happy leaping of a wall and the hilarious climbing of a + tree. No one moved of the groups in the garden except Mary Gray, who + stepped forward quite naturally, calling out, “Are you ready, + Innocent? Our cab’s been waiting such a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen,” said Dr. Warner firmly, “I must + insist on asking this lady to stand aside. We shall have trouble enough as + it is, with the three of us in a cab.” + </p> + <p> + “But it IS our cab,” persisted Mary. “Why, there’s + Innocent’s yellow bag on the top of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Stand aside,” repeated Warner roughly. “And you, Mr. + Moon, please be so obliging as to move a moment. Come, come! the sooner + this ugly business is over the better—and how can we open the gate + if you will keep leaning on it?” + </p> + <p> + Michael Moon looked at his long lean forefinger, and seemed to consider + and reconsider this argument. “Yes,” he said at last; “but + how can I lean on this gate if you keep on opening it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, get out of the way!” cried Warner, almost + good-humouredly. “You can lean on the gate any time.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Moon reflectively. “Seldom the time and the + place and the blue gate altogether; and it all depends whether you come of + an old country family. My ancestors leaned on gates before any one had + discovered how to open them.” + </p> + <p> + “Michael!” cried Arthur Inglewood in a kind of agony, “are + you going to get out of the way?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no; I think not,” said Michael, after some meditation, + and swung himself slowly round, so that he confronted the company, while + still, in a lounging attitude, occupying the path. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” he called out suddenly; “what are you doing to + Mr. Smith?” + </p> + <p> + “Taking him away,” answered Warner shortly, “to be + examined.” + </p> + <p> + “Matriculation?” asked Moon brightly. + </p> + <p> + “By a magistrate,” said the other curtly. + </p> + <p> + “And what other magistrate,” cried Michael, raising his voice, + “dares to try what befell on this free soil, save only the ancient + and independent Dukes of Beacon? What other court dares to try one of our + company, save only the High Court of Beacon? Have you forgotten that only + this afternoon we flew the flag of independence and severed ourselves from + all the nations of the earth?” + </p> + <p> + “Michael,” cried Rosamund, wringing her hands, “how can + you stand there talking nonsense? Why, you saw the dreadful thing + yourself. You were there when he went mad. It was you that helped the + doctor up when he fell over the flower-pot.” + </p> + <p> + “And the High Court of Beacon,” replied Moon with hauteur, + “has special powers in all cases concerning lunatics, flower-pots, + and doctors who fall down in gardens. It’s in our very first charter + from Edward I: `Si medicus quisquam in horto prostratus—‘” + </p> + <p> + “Out of the way!” cried Warner with sudden fury, “or we + will force you out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Michael Moon, with a cry of hilarious + fierceness. “Shall I die in defence of this sacred pale? Will you + paint these blue railings red with my gore?” and he laid hold of one + of the blue spikes behind him. As Inglewood had noticed earlier in the + evening, the railing was loose and crooked at this place, and the painted + iron staff and spearhead came away in Michael’s hand as he shook it. + </p> + <p> + “See!” he cried, brandishing this broken javelin in the air, + “the very lances round Beacon Tower leap from their places to defend + it. Ah, in such a place and hour it is a fine thing to die alone!” + And in a voice like a drum he rolled the noble lines of Ronsard— + </p> + <p> + “Ou pour l’honneur de Dieu, ou pour le droit de mon prince, + Navre, poitrine ouverte, au bord de mon province.” + </p> + <p> + “Sakes alive!” said the American gentleman, almost in an awed + tone. Then he added, “Are there two maniacs here?” + </p> + <p> + “No; there are five,” thundered Moon. “Smith and I are + the only sane people left.” + </p> + <p> + “Michael!” cried Rosamund; “Michael, what does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It means bosh!” roared Michael, and slung his painted spear + hurtling to the other end of the garden. “It means that doctors are + bosh, and criminology is bosh, and Americans are bosh— much more + bosh than our Court of Beacon. It means, you fatheads, that Innocent Smith + is no more mad or bad than the bird on that tree.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Moon,” began Inglewood in his modest manner, + “these gentlemen—” + </p> + <p> + “On the word of two doctors,” exploded Moon again, without + listening to anybody else, “shut up in a private hell on the word of + two doctors! And such doctors! Oh, my hat! Look at ‘em!—do + just look at ‘em! Would you read a book, or buy a dog, or go to a + hotel on the advice of twenty such? My people came from Ireland, and were + Catholics. What would you say if I called a man wicked on the word of two + priests?” + </p> + <p> + “But it isn’t only their word, Michael,” reasoned + Rosamund; “they’ve got evidence too.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you looked at it?” asked Moon. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Rosamund, with a sort of faint surprise; “these + gentlemen are in charge of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And of everything else, it seems to me,” said Michael. + “Why, you haven’t even had the decency to consult Mrs. Duke.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that’s no use,” said Diana in an undertone to + Rosamund; “Auntie can’t say `Bo!’ to a goose.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it,” answered Michael, “for with such + a flock of geese to say it to, the horrid expletive might be constantly on + her lips. For my part, I simply refuse to let things be done in this light + and airy style. I appeal to Mrs. Duke—it’s her house.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Duke?” repeated Inglewood doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mrs. Duke,” said Michael firmly, “commonly called + the Iron Duke.” + </p> + <p> + “If you ask Auntie,” said Diana quietly, “she’ll + only be for doing nothing at all. Her only idea is to hush things up or to + let things slide. That just suits her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Michael Moon; “and, as it happens, it + just suits all of us. You are impatient with your elders, Miss Duke; but + when you are as old yourself you will know what Napoleon knew— that + half one’s letters answer themselves if you can only refrain from + the fleshly appetite of answering them.” + </p> + <p> + He was still lounging in the same absurd attitude, with his elbow on the + grate, but his voice had altered abruptly for the third time; just as it + had changed from the mock heroic to the humanly indignant, it now changed + to the airy incisiveness of a lawyer giving good legal advice. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t only your aunt who wants to keep this quiet if she + can,” he said; “we all want to keep it quiet if we can. Look + at the large facts—the big bones of the case. I believe those + scientific gentlemen have made a highly scientific mistake. I believe + Smith is as blameless as a buttercup. I admit buttercups don’t often + let off loaded pistols in private houses; I admit there is something + demanding explanation. But I am morally certain there’s some + blunder, or some joke, or some allegory, or some accident behind all this. + Well, suppose I’m wrong. We’ve disarmed him; we’re five + men to hold him; he may as well go to a lock-up later on as now. But + suppose there’s even a chance of my being right. Is it anybody’s + interest here to wash this linen in public? + </p> + <p> + “Come, I’ll take each of you in order. Once take Smith outside + that gate, and you take him into the front page of the evening papers. I + know; I’ve written the front page myself. Miss Duke, do you or your + aunt want a sort of notice stuck up over your boarding-house—`Doctors + shot here.’? No, no—doctors are rubbish, as I said; but you + don’t want the rubbish shot here. Arthur, suppose I am right, or + suppose I am wrong. Smith has appeared as an old schoolfellow of yours. + Mark my words, if he’s proved guilty, the Organs of Public Opinion + will say you introduced him. If he’s proved innocent, they will say + you helped to collar him. Rosamund, my dear, suppose I am right or wrong. + If he’s proved guilty, they’ll say you engaged your companion + to him. If he’s proved innocent, they’ll print that telegram. + I know the Organs, damn them.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped an instant; for this rapid rationalism left him more breathless + than had either his theatrical or his real denunciation. But he was + plainly in earnest, as well as positive and lucid; as was proved by his + proceeding quickly the moment he had found his breath. + </p> + <p> + “It is just the same,” he cried, “with our medical + friends. You will say that Dr. Warner has a grievance. I agree. But does + he want specially to be snapshotted by all the journalists ~prostratus in + horto~? It was no fault of his, but the scene was not very dignified even + for him. He must have justice; but does he want to ask for justice, not + only on his knees, but on his hands and knees? Does he want to enter the + court of justice on all fours? Doctors are not allowed to advertise; and I’m + sure no doctor wants to advertise himself as looking like that. And even + for our American guest the interest is the same. Let us suppose that he + has conclusive documents. Let us assume that he has revelations really + worth reading. Well, in a legal inquiry (or a medical inquiry, for that + matter) ten to one he won’t be allowed to read them. He’ll be + tripped up every two or three minutes with some tangle of old rules. A man + can’t tell the truth in public nowadays. But he can still tell it in + private; he can tell it inside that house.” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite true,” said Dr. Cyrus Pym, who had listened + throughout the speech with a seriousness which only an American could have + retained through such a scene. “It is true that I have been + per-ceptibly less hampered in private inquiries.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Pym!” cried Warner in a sort of sudden anger. “Dr. + Pym! you aren’t really going to admit—” + </p> + <p> + “Smith may be mad,” went on the melancholy Moon in a monologue + that seemed as heavy as a hatchet, “but there was something after + all in what he said about Home Rule for every home. Yes, there is + something, when all’s said and done, in the High Court of Beacon. It + is really true that human beings might often get some sort of domestic + justice where just now they can only get legal injustice—oh, I am a + lawyer too, and I know that as well. It is true that there’s too + much official and indirect power. Often and often the thing a whole nation + can’t settle is just the thing a family could settle. Scores of + young criminals have been fined and sent to jail when they ought to have + been thrashed and sent to bed. Scores of men, I am sure, have had a + lifetime at Hanwell when they only wanted a week at Brighton. There IS + something in Smith’s notion of domestic self-government; and I + propose that we put it into practice. You have the prisoner; you have the + documents. Come, we are a company of free, white, Christian people, such + as might be besieged in a town or cast up on a desert island. Let us do + this thing ourselves. Let us go into that house there and sit down and + find out with our own eyes and ears whether this thing is true or not; + whether this Smith is a man or a monster. If we can’t do a little + thing like that, what right have we to put crosses on ballot papers?” + </p> + <p> + Inglewood and Pym exchanged a glance; and Warner, who was no fool, saw in + that glance that Moon was gaining ground. The motives that led Arthur to + think of surrender were indeed very different from those which affected + Dr. Cyrus Pym. All Arthur’s instincts were on the side of privacy + and polite settlement; he was very English and would often endure wrongs + rather than right them by scenes and serious rhetoric. To play at once the + buffoon and the knight-errant, like his Irish friend, would have been + absolute torture to him; but even the semi-official part he had played + that afternoon was very painful. He was not likely to be reluctant if any + one could convince him that his duty was to let sleeping dogs lie. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, Cyrus Pym belonged to a country in which things are + possible that seem crazy to the English. Regulations and authorities + exactly like one of Innocent’s pranks or one of Michael’s + satires really exist, propped by placid policemen and imposed on bustling + business men. Pym knew whole States which are vast and yet secret and + fanciful; each is as big as a nation yet as private as a lost village, and + as unexpected as an apple-pie bed. States where no man may have a + cigarette, States where any man may have ten wives, very strict + prohibition States, very lax divorce States—all these large local + vagaries had prepared Cyrus Pym’s mind for small local vagaries in a + smaller country. Infinitely more remote from England than any Russian or + Italian, utterly incapable of even conceiving what English conventions + are, he could not see the social impossibility of the Court of Beacon. It + is firmly believed by those who shared the experiment, that to the very + end Pym believed in that phantasmal court and supposed it to be some + Britannic institution. + </p> + <p> + Towards the synod thus somewhat at a standstill there approached through + the growing haze and gloaming a short dark figure with a walk apparently + founded on the imperfect repression of a negro breakdown. Something at + once in the familiarity and the incongruity of this being moved Michael to + even heartier outbursts of a healthy and humane flippancy. + </p> + <p> + “Why, here’s little Nosey Gould,” he exclaimed. “Isn’t + the mere sight of him enough to banish all your morbid reflections?” + </p> + <p> + “Really,” replied Dr. Warner, “I really fail to see how + Mr. Gould affects the question; and I once more demand—” + </p> + <p> + “Hello! what’s the funeral, gents?” inquired the + newcomer with the air of an uproarious umpire. “Doctor demandin’ + something? Always the way at a boarding-house, you know. Always lots of + demand. No supply.” + </p> + <p> + As delicately and impartially as he could, Michael restated his position, + and indicated generally that Smith had been guilty of certain dangerous + and dubious acts, and that there had even arisen an allegation that he was + insane. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course he is,” said Moses Gould equably; “it + don’t need old ‘Olmes to see that. The ‘awk-like face of + ‘Olmes,” he added with abstract relish, “showed a shide + of disappointment, the sleuth-like Gould ‘avin’ got there + before ‘im.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is mad,” began Inglewood. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Moses, “when a cove gets out on the tile + the first night there’s generally a tile loose.” + </p> + <p> + “You never objected before,” said Diana Duke rather stiffly, + “and you’re generally pretty free with your complaints.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t compline of him,” said Moses magnanimously, + “the poor chap’s ‘armless enough; you might tie ‘im up + in the garden here and ‘e’d make noises at the burglars.” + </p> + <p> + “Moses,” said Moon with solemn fervour, “you are the + incarnation of Common Sense. You think Mr. Innocent is mad. Let me + introduce you to the incarnation of Scientific Theory. He also thinks Mr. + Innocent is mad.—Doctor, this is my friend Mr. Gould.—Moses, + this is the celebrated Dr. Pym.” The celebrated Dr. Cyrus Pym closed + his eyes and bowed. He also murmured his national war-cry in a low voice, + which sounded like “Pleased to meet you.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you two people,” said Michael cheerfully, “who both + think our poor friend mad, shall jolly well go into that house over there + and prove him mad. What could be more powerful than the combination of + Scientific Theory with Common Sense? United you stand; divided you fall. I + will not be so uncivil as to suggest that Dr. Pym has no common sense; I + confine myself to recording the chronological accident that he has not + shown us any so far. I take the freedom of an old friend in staking my + shirt that Moses has no scientific theory. Yet against this strong + coalition I am ready to appear, armed with nothing but an intuition—which + is American for a guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Distinguished by Mr. Gould’s assistance,” said Pym, + opening his eyes suddenly. “I gather that though he and I are + identical in primary di-agnosis there is yet between us something that + cannot be called a disagreement, something which we may perhaps call a—” + He put the points of thumb and forefinger together, spreading the other + fingers exquisitely in the air, and seemed to be waiting for somebody else + to tell him what to say. + </p> + <p> + “Catchin’ flies?” inquired the affable Moses. + </p> + <p> + “A divergence,” said Dr. Pym, with a refined sigh of relief; + “a divergence. Granted that the man in question is deranged, he + would not necessarily be all that science requires in a homicidal maniac—” + </p> + <p> + “Has it occurred to you,” observed Moon, who was leaning on + the gate again, and did not turn round, “that if he were a homicidal + maniac he might have killed us all here while we were talking.” + </p> + <p> + Something exploded silently underneath all their minds, like sealed + dynamite in some forgotten cellars. They all remembered for the first time + for some hour or two that the monster of whom they were talking was + standing quietly among them. They had left him in the garden like a garden + statue; there might have been a dolphin coiling round his legs, or a + fountain pouring out of his mouth, for all the notice they had taken of + Innocent Smith. He stood with his crest of blonde, blown hair thrust + somewhat forward, his fresh-coloured, rather short-sighted face looking + patiently downwards at nothing in particular, his huge shoulders humped, + and his hands in his trousers pockets. So far as they could guess he had + not moved at all. His green coat might have been cut out of the green turf + on which he stood. In his shadow Pym had expounded and Rosamund + expostulated, Michael had ranted and Moses had ragged. He had remained + like a thing graven; the god of the garden. A sparrow had perched on one + of his heavy shoulders; and then, after correcting its costume of + feathers, had flown away. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” cried Michael, with a shout of laughter, “the + Court of Beacon has opened—and shut up again too. You all know now I + am right. Your buried common sense has told you what my buried common + sense has told me. Smith might have fired off a hundred cannons instead of + a pistol, and you would still know he was harmless as I know he is + harmless. Back we all go to the house and clear a room for discussion. For + the High Court of Beacon, which has already arrived at its decision, is + just about to begin its inquiry.” + </p> + <p> + “Just a goin’ to begin!” cried little Mr. Moses in an + extraordinary sort of disinterested excitement, like that of an animal + during music or a thunderstorm. “Follow on to the ‘Igh Court + of Eggs and Bacon; ‘ave a kipper from the old firm! ‘Is Lordship + complimented Mr. Gould on the ‘igh professional delicacy ‘e + had shown, and which was worthy of the best traditions of the Saloon Bar— + and three of Scotch hot, miss! Oh, chase me, girls!” + </p> + <p> + The girls betraying no temptation to chase him, he went away in a sort of + waddling dance of pure excitement; and had made a circuit of the garden + before he reappeared, breathless but still beaming. Moon had known his man + when he realized that no people presented to Moses Gould could be quite + serious, even if they were quite furious. The glass doors stood open on + the side nearest to Mr. Moses Gould; and as the feet of that festive idiot + were evidently turned in the same direction, everybody else went that way + with the unanimity of some uproarious procession. Only Diana Duke retained + enough rigidity to say the thing that had been boiling at her fierce + feminine lips for the last few hours. Under the shadow of tragedy she had + kept it back as unsympathetic. “In that case,” she said + sharply, “these cabs can be sent away.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Innocent must have his bag, you know,” said Mary with a + smile. “I dare say the cabman would get it down for us.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll get the bag,” said Smith, speaking for the first + time in hours; his voice sounded remote and rude, like the voice of a + statue. + </p> + <p> + Those who had so long danced and disputed round his immobility were left + breathless by his precipitance. With a run and spring he was out of the + garden into the street; with a spring and one quivering kick he was + actually on the roof of the cab. The cabman happened to be standing by the + horse’s head, having just removed its emptied nose-bag. Smith seemed + for an instant to be rolling about on the cab’s back in the embraces + of his Gladstone bag. The next instant, however, he had rolled, as if by a + royal luck, into the high seat behind, and with a shriek of piercing and + appalling suddenness had sent the horse flying and scampering down the + street. + </p> + <p> + His evanescence was so violent and swift, that this time it was all the + other people who were turned into garden statues. Mr. Moses Gould, + however, being ill-adapted both physically and morally for the purposes of + permanent sculpture, came to life some time before the rest, and, turning + to Moon, remarked, like a man starting chattily with a stranger on an + omnibus, “Tile loose, eh? Cab loose anyhow.” There followed a + fatal silence; and then Dr. Warner said, with a sneer like a club of + stone,— + </p> + <p> + “This is what comes of the Court of Beacon, Mr. Moon. You have let + loose a maniac on the whole metropolis.” + </p> + <p> + Beacon House stood, as has been said, at the end of a long crescent of + continuous houses. The little garden that shut it in ran out into a sharp + point like a green cape pushed out into the sea of two streets. Smith and + his cab shot up one side of the triangle, and certainly most of those + standing inside of it never expected to see him again. At the apex, + however, he turned the horse sharply round and drove with equal violence + up the other side of the garden, visible to all those in the group. With a + common impulse the little crowd ran across the lawn as if to stop him, but + they soon had reason to duck and recoil. Even as he vanished up street for + the second time, he let the big yellow bag fly from his hand, so that it + fell in the centre of the garden, scattering the company like a bomb, and + nearly damaging Dr. Warner’s hat for the third time. Long before + they had collected themselves, the cab had shot away with a shriek that + went into a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Michael Moon, with a queer note in his voice; + “you may as well all go inside anyhow. We’ve got two relics of + Mr. Smith at least; his fiancee and his trunk.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you want us to go inside?” asked Arthur Inglewood, in + whose red brow and rough brown hair botheration seemed to have reached its + limit. + </p> + <p> + “I want the rest to go in,” said Michael in a clear voice, + “because I want the whole of this garden in which to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + There was an atmosphere of irrational doubt; it was really getting colder, + and a night wind had begun to wave the one or two trees in the twilight. + Dr. Warner, however, spoke in a voice devoid of indecision. + </p> + <p> + “I refuse to listen to any such proposal,” he said; “you + have lost this ruffian, and I must find him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t ask you to listen to any proposal,” answered + Moon quietly; “I only ask you to listen.” + </p> + <p> + He made a silencing movement with his hand, and immediately the whistling + noise that had been lost in the dark streets on one side of the house + could be heard from quite a new quarter on the other side. Through the + night-maze of streets the noise increased with incredible rapidity, and + the next moment the flying hoofs and flashing wheels had swept up to the + blue-railed gate at which they had originally stood. Mr. Smith got down + from his perch with an air of absent-mindedness, and coming back into the + garden stood in the same elephantine attitude as before. + </p> + <p> + “Get inside! get inside!” cried Moon hilariously, with the air + of one shooing a company of cats. “Come, come, be quick about it! + Didn’t I tell you I wanted to talk to Inglewood?” + </p> + <p> + How they were all really driven into the house again it would have been + difficult afterwards to say. They had reached the point of being exhausted + with incongruities, as people at a farce are ill with laughing, and the + brisk growth of the storm among the trees seemed like a final gesture of + things in general. Inglewood lingered behind them, saying with a certain + amicable exasperation, “I say, do you really want to speak to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Michael, “very much.” + </p> + <p> + Night had come as it generally does, quicker than the twilight had seemed + to promise. While the human eye still felt the sky as light gray, a very + large and lustrous moon appearing abruptly above a bulk of roofs and + trees, proved by contrast that the sky was already a very dark gray + indeed. A drift of barren leaves across the lawn, a drift of riven clouds + across the sky, seemed to be lifted on the same strong and yet laborious + wind. + </p> + <p> + “Arthur,” said Michael, “I began with an intuition; but + now I am sure. You and I are going to defend this friend of yours before + the blessed Court of Beacon, and to clear him too—clear him of both + crime and lunacy. Just listen to me while I preach to you for a bit.” + They walked up and down the darkening garden together as Michael Moon went + on. + </p> + <p> + “Can you,” asked Michael, “shut your eyes and see some + of those queer old hieroglyphics they stuck up on white walls in the old + hot countries. How stiff they were in shape and yet how gaudy in colour. + Think of some alphabet of arbitrary figures picked out in black and red, + or white and green, with some old Semitic crowd of Nosey Gould’s + ancestors staring at it, and try to think why the people put it up at all.” + </p> + <p> + Inglewood’s first instinct was to think that his perplexing friend + had really gone off his head at last; there seemed so reckless a flight of + irrelevancy from the tropic-pictured walls he was asked to imagine to the + gray, wind-swept, and somewhat chilly suburban garden in which he was + actually kicking his heels. How he could be more happy in one by imagining + the other he could not conceive. Both (in themselves) were unpleasant. + </p> + <p> + “Why does everybody repeat riddles,” went on Moon abruptly, + “even if they’ve forgotten the answers? Riddles are easy to + remember because they are hard to guess. So were those stiff old symbols + in black, red, or green easy to remember because they had been hard to + guess. Their colours were plain. Their shapes were plain. Everything was + plain except the meaning.” + </p> + <p> + Inglewood was about to open his mouth in an amiable protest, but Moon went + on, plunging quicker and quicker up and down the garden and smoking faster + and faster. “Dances, too,” he said; “dances were not + frivolous. Dances were harder to understand than inscriptions and texts. + The old dances were stiff, ceremonial, highly coloured but silent. Have + you noticed anything odd about Smith?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, really,” cried Inglewood, left behind in a collapse of + humour, “have I noticed anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed this about him,” asked Moon, with unshaken + persistency, “that he has done so much and said so little? When + first he came he talked, but in a gasping, irregular sort of way, as if he + wasn’t used to it. All he really did was actions—painting red + flowers on black gowns or throwing yellow bags on to the grass. I tell you + that big green figure is figurative— like any green figure capering + on some white Eastern wall.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Michael,” cried Inglewood, in a rising irritation + which increased with the rising wind, “you are getting absurdly + fanciful.” + </p> + <p> + “I think of what has just happened,” said Michael steadily. + “The man has not spoken for hours; and yet he has been speaking all + the time. He fired three shots from a six-shooter and then gave it up to + us, when he might have shot us dead in our boots. How could he express his + trust in us better than that? He wanted to be tried by us. How could he + have shown it better than by standing quite still and letting us discuss + it? He wanted to show that he stood there willingly, and could escape if + he liked. How could he have shown it better than by escaping in the cab + and coming back again? Innocent Smith is not a madman—he is a + ritualist. He wants to express himself, not with his tongue, but with his + arms and legs— with my body I thee worship, as it says in the + marriage service. I begin to understand the old plays and pageants. I see + why the mutes at a funeral were mute. I see why the mummers were mum. They + MEANT something; and Smith means something too. All other jokes have to be + noisy—like little Nosey Gould’s jokes, for instance. The only + silent jokes are the practical jokes. Poor Smith, properly considered, is + an allegorical practical joker. What he has really done in this house has + been as frantic as a war-dance, but as silent as a picture.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you mean,” said the other dubiously, “that we + have got to find out what all these crimes meant, as if they were so many + coloured picture-puzzles. But even supposing that they do mean something—why, + Lord bless my soul!—” + </p> + <p> + Taking the turn of the garden quite naturally, he had lifted his eyes to + the moon, by this time risen big and luminous, and had seen a huge, + half-human figure sitting on the garden wall. It was outlined so sharply + against the moon that for the first flash it was hard to be certain even + that it was human: the hunched shoulders and outstanding hair had rather + the air of a colossal cat. It resembled a cat also in the fact that when + first startled it sprang up and ran with easy activity along the top of + the wall. As it ran, however, its heavy shoulders and small stooping head + rather suggested a baboon. The instant it came within reach of a tree it + made an ape-like leap and was lost in the branches. The gale, which by + this time was shaking every shrub in the garden, made the identification + yet more difficult, since it melted the moving limbs of the fugitive in + the multitudinous moving limbs of the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” shouted Arthur. “Who are you? Are you + Innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite,” answered an obscure voice among the leaves. + “I cheated you once about a penknife.” + </p> + <p> + The wind in the garden had gathered strength, and was throwing the tree + backwards and forwards with the man in the thick of it, just as it had on + the gay and golden afternoon when he had first arrived. + </p> + <p> + “But are you Smith?” asked Inglewood as in an agony. + </p> + <p> + “Very nearly,” said the voice out of the tossing tree. + </p> + <p> + “But you must have some real names,” shrieked Inglewood in + despair. “You must call yourself something.” + </p> + <p> + “Call myself something,” thundered the obscure voice, shaking + the tree so that all its ten thousand leaves seemed to be talking at once. + “I call myself Roland Oliver Isaiah Charlemagne Arthur Hildebrand + Homer Danton Michaelangelo Shakespeare Brakespeare—” + </p> + <p> + “But, manalive!” began Inglewood in exasperation. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right! that’s right!” came with a roar out + of the rocking tree; “that’s my real name.” And he broke + a branch, and one or two autumn leaves fluttered away across the moon. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART II — The Explanations of Innocent Smith + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter I — The Eye of Death; or, the Murder Charge + </h2> + <p> + The dining-room of the Dukes had been set out for the Court of Beacon with + a certain impromptu pomposity that seemed somehow to increase its + cosiness. The big room was, as it were, cut up into small rooms, with + walls only waist high—the sort of separation that children make when + they are playing at shops. This had been done by Moses Gould and Michael + Moon (the two most active members of this remarkable inquiry) with the + ordinary furniture of the place. At one end of the long mahogany table was + set the one enormous garden chair, which was surmounted by the old torn + tent or umbrella which Smith himself had suggested as a coronation canopy. + Inside this erection could be perceived the dumpy form of Mrs. Duke, with + cushions and a form of countenance that already threatened slumber. At the + other end sat the accused Smith, in a kind of dock; for he was carefully + fenced in with a quadrilateral of light bedroom chairs, any of which he + could have tossed out the window with his big toe. He had been provided + with pens and paper, out of the latter of which he made paper boats, paper + darts, and paper dolls contentedly throughout the whole proceedings. He + never spoke or even looked up, but seemed as unconscious as a child on the + floor of an empty nursery. + </p> + <p> + On a row of chairs raised high on the top of a long settee sat the three + young ladies with their backs up against the window, and Mary Gray in the + middle; it was something between a jury box and the stall of the Queen of + Beauty at a tournament. Down the centre of the long table Moon had built a + low barrier out of eight bound volumes of “Good Words” to + express the moral wall that divided the conflicting parties. On the right + side sat the two advocates of the prosecution, Dr. Pym and Mr. Gould; + behind a barricade of books and documents, chiefly (in the case of Dr. + Pym) solid volumes of criminology. On the other side, Moon and Inglewood, + for the defence, were also fortified with books and papers; but as these + included several old yellow volumes by Ouida and Wilkie Collins, the hand + of Mr. Moon seemed to have been somewhat careless and comprehensive. As + for the victim and prosecutor, Dr. Warner, Moon wanted at first to have + him kept entirely behind a high screen in the corner, urging the + indelicacy of his appearance in court, but privately assuring him of an + unofficial permission to peep over the top now and then. Dr. Warner, + however, failed to rise to the chivalry of such a course, and after some + little disturbance and discussion he was accommodated with a seat on the + right side of the table in a line with his legal advisers. + </p> + <p> + It was before this solidly-established tribunal that Dr. Cyrus Pym, after + passing a hand through the honey-coloured hair over each ear, rose to open + the case. His statement was clear and even restrained, and such flights of + imagery as occurred in it only attracted attention by a certain + indescribable abruptness, not uncommon in the flowers of American speech. + </p> + <p> + He planted the points of his ten frail fingers on the mahogany, closed his + eyes, and opened his mouth. “The time has gone by,” he said, + “when murder could be regarded as a moral and individual act, + important perhaps to the murderer, perhaps to the murdered. Science has + profoundly...” here he paused, poising his compressed finger and + thumb in the air as if he were holding an elusive idea very tight by its + tail, then he screwed up his eyes and said “modified,” and let + it go—“has profoundly Modified our view of death. In + superstitious ages it was regarded as the termination of life, + catastrophic, and even tragic, and was often surrounded by solemnity. + Brighter days, however, have dawned, and we now see death as universal and + inevitable, as part of that great soul-stirring and heart-upholding + average which we call for convenience the order of nature. In the same way + we have come to consider murder SOCIALLY. Rising above the mere private + feelings of a man while being forcibly deprived of life, we are privileged + to behold murder as a mighty whole, to see the rich rotation of the + cosmos, bringing, as it brings the golden harvests and the golden-bearded + harvesters, the return for ever of the slayers and the slain.” + </p> + <p> + He looked down, somewhat affected with his own eloquence, coughed + slightly, putting up four of his pointed fingers with the excellent + manners of Boston, and continued: “There is but one result of this + happier and humaner outlook which concerns the wretched man before us. It + is that thoroughly elucidated by a Milwaukee doctor, our great + secret-guessing Sonnenschein, in his great work, `The Destructive Type.’ + We do not denounce Smith as a murderer, but rather as a murderous man. The + type is such that its very life— I might say its very health—is + in killing. Some hold that it is not properly an aberration, but a newer + and even a higher creature. My dear old friend Dr. Bulger, who kept + ferrets—” (here Moon suddenly ejaculated a loud “hurrah!” + but so instantaneously resumed his tragic expression that Mrs. Duke looked + everywhere else for the sound); Dr. Pym continued somewhat sternly—“who, + in the interests of knowledge, kept ferrets, felt that the creature’s + ferocity is not utilitarian, but absolutely an end in itself. However this + may be with ferrets, it is certainly so with the prisoner. In his other + iniquities you may find the cunning of the maniac; but his acts of blood + have almost the simplicity of sanity. But it is the awful sanity of the + sun and the elements—a cruel, an evil sanity. As soon stay the + iris-leapt cataracts of our virgin West as stay the natural force that + sends him forth to slay. No environment, however scientific, could have + softened him. Place that man in the silver-silent purity of the palest + cloister, and there will be some deed of violence done with the crozier or + the alb. Rear him in a happy nursery, amid our brave-browed Anglo-Saxon + infancy, and he will find some way to strangle with the skipping-rope or + brain with the brick. Circumstances may be favourable, training may be + admirable, hopes may be high, but the huge elemental hunger of Innocent + Smith for blood will in its appointed season burst like a well-timed bomb.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur Inglewood glanced curiously for an instant at the huge creature at + the foot of the table, who was fitting a paper figure with a cocked hat, + and then looked back at Dr. Pym, who was concluding in a quieter tone. + </p> + <p> + “It only remains for us,” he said, “to bring forward + actual evidence of his previous attempts. By an agreement already made + with the Court and the leaders of the defence, we are permitted to put in + evidence authentic letters from witnesses to these scenes, which the + defence is free to examine. Out of several cases of such outrages we have + decided to select one— the clearest and most scandalous. I will + therefore, without further delay, call on my junior, Mr. Gould, to read + two letters—one from the Sub-Warden and the other from the porter of + Brakespeare College, in Cambridge University.” + </p> + <p> + Gould jumped up with a jerk like a jack-in-the-box, an academic-looking + paper in his hand and a fever of importance on his face. He began in a + loud, high, cockney voice that was as abrupt as a cock-crow:— + </p> + <p> + “Sir,—Hi am the Sub-Warden of Brikespeare College, Cambridge—” + </p> + <p> + “Lord have mercy on us,” muttered Moon, making a backward + movement as men do when a gun goes off. + </p> + <p> + “Hi am the Sub-Warden of Brikespeare College, Cambridge,” + proclaimed the uncompromising Moses, “and I can endorse the + description you gave of the un’appy Smith. It was not alone my + unfortunate duty to rebuke many of the lesser violences of his + undergraduate period, but I was actually a witness to the last iniquity + which terminated that period. Hi happened to passing under the house of my + friend the Warden of Brikespeare, which is semi-detached from the College + and connected with it by two or three very ancient arches or props, like + bridges, across a small strip of water connected with the river. To my + grive astonishment I be’eld my eminent friend suspended in mid-air + and clinging to one of these pieces of masonry, his appearance and + attitude indicatin’ that he suffered from the grivest apprehensions. + After a short time I heard two very loud shots, and distinctly perceived + the unfortunate undergraduate Smith leaning far out of the Warden’s + window and aiming at the Warden repeatedly with a revolver. Upon seeing + me, Smith burst into a loud laugh (in which impertinence was mingled with + insanity), and appeared to desist. I sent the college porter for a ladder, + and he succeeded in detaching the Warden from his painful position. Smith + was sent down. The photograph I enclose is from the group of the + University Rifle Club prizemen, and represents him as he was when at the + College.— Hi am, your obedient servant, Amos Boulter. + </p> + <p> + “The other letter,” continued Gould in a glow of triumph, + “is from the porter, and won’t take long to read. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir,—It is quite true that I am the porter of + Brikespeare College, and that I ‘elped the Warden down when the + young man was shooting at him, as Mr. Boulter has said in his letter. The + young man who was shooting at him was Mr. Smith, the same that is in the + photograph Mr. Boulter sends.— Yours respectfully, Samuel Barker.” + </p> + <p> + Gould handed the two letters across to Moon, who examined them. But for + the vocal divergences in the matter of h’s and a’s, the + Sub-Warden’s letter was exactly as Gould had rendered it; and both + that and the porter’s letter were plainly genuine. Moon handed them + to Inglewood, who handed them back in silence to Moses Gould. + </p> + <p> + “So far as this first charge of continual attempted murder is + concerned,” said Dr. Pym, standing up for the last time, “that + is my case.” + </p> + <p> + Michael Moon rose for the defence with an air of depression which gave + little hope at the outset to the sympathizers with the prisoner. He did + not, he said, propose to follow the doctor into the abstract questions. + “I do not know enough to be an agnostic,” he said, rather + wearily, “and I can only master the known and admitted elements in + such controversies. As for science and religion, the known and admitted + facts are plain enough. All that the parsons say is unproved. All that the + doctors say is disproved. That’s the only difference between science + and religion there’s ever been, or will be. Yet these new + discoveries touch me, somehow,” he said, looking down sorrowfully at + his boots. “They remind me of a dear old great-aunt of mine who used + to enjoy them in her youth. It brings tears to my eyes. I can see the old + bucket by the garden fence and the line of shimmering poplars behind—” + </p> + <p> + “Hi! here, stop the ‘bus a bit,” cried Mr. Moses Gould, + rising in a sort of perspiration. “We want to give the defence a + fair run—like gents, you know; but any gent would draw the line at + shimmering poplars.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, hang it all,” said Moon, in an injured manner, “if + Dr. Pym may have an old friend with ferrets, why mayn’t I have an + old aunt with poplars?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure,” said Mrs. Duke, bridling, with something almost + like a shaky authority, “Mr. Moon may have what aunts he likes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as to liking her,” began Moon, “I—but + perhaps, as you say, she is scarcely the core of the question. I repeat + that I do not mean to follow the abstract speculations. For, indeed, my + answer to Dr. Pym is simple and severely concrete. Dr. Pym has only + treated one side of the psychology of murder. If it is true that there is + a kind of man who has a natural tendency to murder, is it not equally true”—here + he lowered his voice and spoke with a crushing quietude and earnestness—“is + it not equally true that there is a kind of man who has a natural tendency + to get murdered? Is it not at least a hypothesis holding the field that + Dr. Warner is such a man? I do not speak without the book, any more than + my learned friend. The whole matter is expounded in Dr. Moonenschein’s + monumental work, `The Destructible Doctor,’ with diagrams, showing + the various ways in which such a person as Dr. Warner may be resolved into + his elements. In the light of these facts—” + </p> + <p> + “Hi, stop the ‘bus! stop the ‘bus!” cried Moses, + jumping up and down and gesticulating in great excitement. “My + principal’s got something to say! My principal wants to do a bit of + talkin’.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Pym was indeed on his feet, looking pallid and rather vicious. “I + have strictly CON-fined myself,” he said nasally, “to books to + which immediate reference can be made. I have Sonnenschein’s + `Destructive Type’ here on the table, if the defence wish to see it. + Where is this wonderful work on Destructability Mr. Moon is talking about? + Does it exist? Can he produce it?” + </p> + <p> + “Produce it!” cried the Irishman with a rich scorn. “I’ll + produce it in a week if you’ll pay for the ink and paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it have much authority?” asked Pym, sitting down. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, authority!” said Moon lightly; “that depends on a + fellow’s religion.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Pym jumped up again. “Our authority is based on masses of + accurate detail,” he said. “It deals with a region in which + things can be handled and tested. My opponent will at least admit that + death is a fact of experience.” + </p> + <p> + “Not of mine,” said Moon mournfully, shaking his head. “I’ve + never experienced such a thing in all my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, really,” said Dr. Pym, and sat down sharply amid a + crackle of papers. + </p> + <p> + “So we see,” resumed Moon, in the same melancholy voice, + “that a man like Dr. Warner is, in the mysterious workings of + evolution, doomed to such attacks. My client’s onslaught, even if it + occurred, was not unique. I have in my hand letters from more than one + acquaintance of Dr. Warner whom that remarkable man has affected in the + same way. Following the example of my learned friends I will read only two + of them. The first is from an honest and laborious matron living off the + Harrow Road. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Moon, Sir,—Yes, I did throw a sorsepan at him. Wot then? + It was all I had to throw, all the soft things being porned, and if your + Docter Warner doesn’t like having sorsepans thrown at him, don’t + let him wear his hat in a respectable woman’s parler, and tell him + to leave orf smiling or tell us the joke.—Yours respectfully, Hannah + Miles. + </p> + <p> + “The other letter is from a physician of some note in Dublin, with + whom Dr. Warner was once engaged in consultation. He writes as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir,—The incident to which you refer is one which I + regret, and which, moreover, I have never been able to explain. My own + branch of medicine is not mental; and I should be glad to have the view of + a mental specialist on my singular momentary and indeed almost automatic + action. To say that I `pulled Dr. Warner’s nose,’ is, however, + inaccurate in a respect that strikes me as important. That I punched his + nose I must cheerfully admit (I need not say with what regret); but + pulling seems to me to imply a precision of objective with which I cannot + reproach myself. In comparison with this, the act of punching was an + outward, instantaneous, and even natural gesture.— Believe me, yours + faithfully, Burton Lestrange. + </p> + <p> + “I have numberless other letters,” continued Moon, “all + bearing witness to this widespread feeling about my eminent friend; and I + therefore think that Dr. Pym should have admitted this side of the + question in his survey. We are in the presence, as Dr. Pym so truly says, + of a natural force. As soon stay the cataract of the London water-works as + stay the great tendency of Dr. Warner to be assassinated by somebody. + Place that man in a Quakers’ meeting, among the most peaceful of + Christians, and he will immediately be beaten to death with sticks of + chocolate. Place him among the angels of the New Jerusalem, and he will be + stoned to death with precious stones. Circumstances may be beautiful and + wonderful, the average may be heart-upholding, the harvester may be + golden-bearded, the doctor may be secret-guessing, the cataract may be + iris-leapt, the Anglo-Saxon infant may be brave-browed, but against and + above all these prodigies the grand simple tendency of Dr. Warner to get + murdered will still pursue its way until it happily and triumphantly + succeeds at last.” + </p> + <p> + He pronounced this peroration with an appearance of strong emotion. But + even stronger emotions were manifesting themselves on the other side of + the table. Dr. Warner had leaned his large body quite across the little + figure of Moses Gould and was talking in excited whispers to Dr. Pym. That + expert nodded a great many times and finally started to his feet with a + sincere expression of sternness. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen,” he cried indignantly, “as my + colleague has said, we should be delighted to give any latitude to the + defence—if there were a defence. But Mr. Moon seems to think he is + there to make jokes— very good jokes I dare say, but not at all + adapted to assist his client. He picks holes in science. He picks holes in + my client’s social popularity. He picks holes in my literary style, + which doesn’t seem to suit his high-toned European taste. But how + does this picking of holes affect the issue? This Smith has picked two + holes in my client’s hat, and with an inch better aim would have + picked two holes in his head. All the jokes in the world won’t + unpick those holes or be any use for the defence.” + </p> + <p> + Inglewood looked down in some embarrassment, as if shaken by the evident + fairness of this, but Moon still gazed at his opponent in a dreamy way. + “The defence?” he said vaguely—“oh, I haven’t + begun that yet.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly have not,” said Pym warmly, amid a murmur of + applause from his side, which the other side found it impossible to + answer. “Perhaps, if you have any defence, which has been doubtful + from the very beginning—” + </p> + <p> + “While you’re standing up,” said Moon, in the same + almost sleepy style, “perhaps I might ask you a question.” + </p> + <p> + “A question? Certainly,” said Pym stiffly. “It was + distinctly arranged between us that as we could not cross-examine the + witnesses, we might vicariously cross-examine each other. We are in a + position to invite all such inquiry.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you said,” observed Moon absently, “that none + of the prisoner’s shots really hit the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “For the cause of science,” cried the complacent Pym, “fortunately + not.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet they were fired from a few feet away.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; about four feet.” + </p> + <p> + “And no shots hit the Warden, though they were fired quite close to + him too?” asked Moon. + </p> + <p> + “That is so,” said the witness gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Moon, suppressing a slight yawn, “that + your Sub-Warden mentioned that Smith was one of the University’s + record men for shooting.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as to that—” began Pym, after an instant of + stillness. + </p> + <p> + “A second question,” continued Moon, comparatively curtly. + “You said there were other cases of the accused trying to kill + people. Why have you not got evidence of them?” + </p> + <p> + The American planted the points of his fingers on the table again. “In + those cases,” he said precisely, “there was no evidence from + outsiders, as in the Cambridge case, but only the evidence of the actual + victims.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn’t you get their evidence?” + </p> + <p> + “In the case of the actual victims,” said Pym, “there + was some difficulty and reluctance, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean,” asked Moon, “that none of the actual + victims would appear against the prisoner?” + </p> + <p> + “That would be exaggerative,” began the other. + </p> + <p> + “A third question,” said Moon, so sharply that every one + jumped. “You’ve got the evidence of the Sub-Warden who heard + some shots; where’s the evidence of the Warden himself who was shot + at? The Warden of Brakespeare lives, a prosperous gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “We did ask for a statement from him,” said Pym a little + nervously; “but it was so eccentrically expressed that we suppressed + it out of deference to an old gentleman whose past services to science + have been great.” + </p> + <p> + Moon leaned forward. “You mean, I suppose,” he said, “that + his statement was favourable to the prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “It might be understood so,” replied the American doctor; + “but, really, it was difficult to understand at all. In fact, we + sent it back to him.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no longer, then, any statement signed by the Warden of + Brakespeare.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I only ask,” said Michael quietly, “because we have. To + conclude my case I will ask my junior, Mr. Inglewood, to read a statement + of the true story—a statement attested as true by the signature of + the Warden himself.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur Inglewood rose with several papers in his hand, and though he + looked somewhat refined and self-effacing, as he always did, the + spectators were surprised to feel that his presence was, upon the whole, + more efficient and sufficing than his leader’s. He was, in truth, + one of those modest men who cannot speak until they are told to speak; and + then can speak well. Moon was entirely the opposite. His own impudences + amused him in private, but they slightly embarrassed him in public; he + felt a fool while he was speaking, whereas Inglewood felt a fool only + because he could not speak. The moment he had anything to say he could + speak; and the moment he could speak, speaking seemed quite natural. + Nothing in this universe seemed quite natural to Michael Moon. + </p> + <p> + “As my colleague has just explained,” said Inglewood, “there + are two enigmas or inconsistencies on which we base the defence. The first + is a plain physical fact. By the admission of everybody, by the very + evidence adduced by the prosecution, it is clear that the accused was + celebrated as a specially good shot. Yet on both the occasions complained + of he shot from a distance of four or five feet, and shot at him four or + five times, and never hit him once. That is the first startling + circumstance on which we base our argument. The second, as my colleague + has urged, is the curious fact that we cannot find a single victim of + these alleged outrages to speak for himself. Subordinates speak for him. + Porters climb up ladders to him. But he himself is silent. Ladies and + gentlemen, I propose to explain on the spot both the riddle of the shots + and the riddle of the silence. I will first of all read the covering + letter in which the true account of the Cambridge incident is contained, + and then that document itself. When you have heard both, there will be no + doubt about your decision. The covering letter runs as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir,—The following is a very exact and even vivid + account of the incident as it really happened at Brakespeare College. We, + the undersigned, do not see any particular reason why we should refer it + to any isolated authorship. The truth is, it has been a composite + production; and we have even had some difference of opinion about the + adjectives. But every word of it is true.—We are, yours faithfully, + </p> + <p> + “Wilfred Emerson Eames, “Warden of Brakespeare College, + Cambridge. + </p> + <p> + “Innocent Smith. + </p> + <p> + “The enclosed statement,” continued Inglewood, “runs as + follows:— + </p> + <p> + “A celebrated English university backs so abruptly on the river, + that it has, so to speak, to be propped up and patched with all sorts of + bridges and semi-detached buildings. The river splits itself into several + small streams and canals, so that in one or two corners the place has + almost the look of Venice. It was so especially in the case with which we + are concerned, in which a few flying buttresses or airy ribs of stone + sprang across a strip of water to connect Brakespeare College with the + house of the Warden of Brakespeare. + </p> + <p> + “The country around these colleges is flat; but it does not seem + flat when one is thus in the midst of the colleges. For in these flat fens + there are always wandering lakes and lingering rivers of water. And these + always change what might have been a scheme of horizontal lines into a + scheme of vertical lines. Wherever there is water the height of high + buildings is doubled, and a British brick house becomes a Babylonian + tower. In that shining unshaken surface the houses hang head downwards + exactly to their highest or lowest chimney. The coral-coloured cloud seen + in that abyss is as far below the world as its original appears above it. + Every scrap of water is not only a window but a skylight. Earth splits + under men’s feet into precipitous aerial perspectives, into which a + bird could as easily wing its way as—” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Cyrus Pym rose in protest. The documents he had put in evidence had + been confined to cold affirmation of fact. The defence, in a general way, + had an indubitable right to put their case in their own way, but all this + landscape gardening seemed to him (Dr. Cyrus Pym) to be not up to the + business. “Will the leader of the defence tell me,” he asked, + “how it can possibly affect this case, that a cloud was cor’l-coloured, + or that a bird could have winged itself anywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know,” said Michael, lifting himself + lazily; “you see, you don’t know yet what our defence is. Till + you know that, don’t you see, anything may be relevant. Why, + suppose,” he said suddenly, as if an idea had struck him, “suppose + we wanted to prove the old Warden colour-blind. Suppose he was shot by a + black man with white hair, when he thought he was being shot by a white + man with yellow hair! To ascertain if that cloud was really and truly + coral-coloured might be of the most massive importance.” + </p> + <p> + He paused with a seriousness which was hardly generally shared, and + continued with the same fluency: “Or suppose we wanted to maintain + that the Warden committed suicide—that he just got Smith to hold the + pistol as Brutus’s slave held the sword. Why, it would make all the + difference whether the Warden could see himself plain in still water. + Still water has made hundreds of suicides: one sees oneself so very—well, + so very plain.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you, perhaps,” inquired Pym with austere irony, “maintain + that your client was a bird of some sort—say, a flamingo?” + </p> + <p> + “In the matter of his being a flamingo,” said Moon with sudden + severity, “my client reserves his defence.” + </p> + <p> + No one quite knowing what to make of this, Mr. Moon resumed his seat and + Inglewood resumed the reading of his document:— + </p> + <p> + “There is something pleasing to a mystic in such a land of mirrors. + For a mystic is one who holds that two worlds are better than one. In the + highest sense, indeed, all thought is reflection. + </p> + <p> + “This is the real truth, in the saying that second thoughts are + best. Animals have no second thoughts; man alone is able to see his own + thought double, as a drunkard sees a lamp-post; man alone is able to see + his own thought upside down as one sees a house in a puddle. This + duplication of mentality, as in a mirror, is (we repeat) the inmost thing + of human philosophy. There is a mystical, even a monstrous truth, in the + statement that two heads are better than one. But they ought both to grow + on the same body.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it’s a little transcendental at first,” + interposed Inglewood, beaming round with a broad apology, “but you + see this document was written in collaboration by a don and a—” + </p> + <p> + “Drunkard, eh?” suggested Moses Gould, beginning to enjoy + himself. + </p> + <p> + “I rather think,” proceeded Inglewood with an unruffled and + critical air, “that this part was written by the don. I merely warn + the Court that the statement, though indubitably accurate, bears here and + there the trace of coming from two authors.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” said Dr. Pym, leaning back and sniffing, + “I cannot agree with them that two heads are better than one.” + </p> + <p> + “The undersigned persons think it needless to touch on a kindred + problem so often discussed at committees for University Reform: the + question of whether dons see double because they are drunk, or get drunk + because they see double. It is enough for them (the undersigned persons) + if they are able to pursue their own peculiar and profitable theme—which + is puddles. What (the undersigned persons ask themselves) is a puddle? A + puddle repeats infinity, and is full of light; nevertheless, if analyzed + objectively, a puddle is a piece of dirty water spread very thin on mud. + The two great historic universities of England have all this large and + level and reflective brilliance. Nevertheless, or, rather, on the other + hand, they are puddles—puddles, puddles, puddles, puddles. The + undersigned persons ask you to excuse an emphasis inseparable from strong + conviction.” + </p> + <p> + Inglewood ignored a somewhat wild expression on the faces of some present, + and continued with eminent cheerfulness:— + </p> + <p> + “Such were the thoughts that failed to cross the mind of the + undergraduate Smith as he picked his way among the stripes of canal and + the glittering rainy gutters into which the water broke up round the back + of Brakespeare College. Had these thoughts crossed his mind he would have + been much happier than he was. Unfortunately he did not know that his + puzzles were puddles. He did not know that the academic mind reflects + infinity and is full of light by the simple process of being shallow and + standing still. In his case, therefore, there was something solemn, and + even evil about the infinity implied. It was half-way through a starry + night of bewildering brilliancy; stars were both above and below. To young + Smith’s sullen fancy the skies below seemed even hollower than the + skies above; he had a horrible idea that if he counted the stars he would + find one too many in the pool. + </p> + <p> + “In crossing the little paths and bridges he felt like one stepping + on the black and slender ribs of some cosmic Eiffel Tower. For to him, and + nearly all the educated youth of that epoch, the stars were cruel things. + Though they glowed in the great dome every night, they were an enormous + and ugly secret; they uncovered the nakedness of nature; they were a + glimpse of the iron wheels and pulleys behind the scenes. For the young + men of that sad time thought that the god always comes from the machine. + They did not know that in reality the machine only comes from the god. In + short, they were all pessimists, and starlight was atrocious to them— + atrocious because it was true. All their universe was black with white + spots. + </p> + <p> + “Smith looked up with relief from the glittering pools below to the + glittering skies and the great black bulk of the college. The only light + other than stars glowed through one peacock-green curtain in the upper + part of the building, marking where Dr. Emerson Eames always worked till + morning and received his friends and favourite pupils at any hour of the + night. Indeed, it was to his rooms that the melancholy Smith was bound. + Smith had been at Dr. Eames’s lecture for the first half of the + morning, and at pistol practice and fencing in a saloon for the second + half. He had been sculling madly for the first half of the afternoon and + thinking idly (and still more madly) for the second half. He had gone to a + supper where he was uproarious, and on to a debating club where he was + perfectly insufferable, and the melancholy Smith was melancholy still. + Then, as he was going home to his diggings he remembered the eccentricity + of his friend and master, the Warden of Brakespeare, and resolved + desperately to turn in to that gentleman’s private house. + </p> + <p> + “Emerson Eames was an eccentric in many ways, but his throne in + philosophy and metaphysics was of international eminence; the university + could hardly have afforded to lose him, and, moreover, a don has only to + continue any of his bad habits long enough to make them a part of the + British Constitution. The bad habits of Emerson Eames were to sit up all + night and to be a student of Schopenhauer. Personally, he was a lean, + lounging sort of man, with a blond pointed beard, not so very much older + than his pupil Smith in the matter of mere years, but older by centuries + in the two essential respects of having a European reputation and a bald + head. + </p> + <p> + “`I came, against the rules, at this unearthly hour,’ said + Smith, who was nothing to the eye except a very big man trying to make + himself small, `because I am coming to the conclusion that existence is + really too rotten. I know all the arguments of the thinkers that think + otherwise—bishops, and agnostics, and those sort of people. And + knowing you were the greatest living authority on the pessimist thinkers—’ + </p> + <p> + “`All thinkers,’ said Eames, `are pessimist thinkers.’ + </p> + <p> + “After a patch of pause, not the first—for this depressing + conversation had gone on for some hours with alternations of cynicism and + silence— the Warden continued with his air of weary brilliancy: `It’s + all a question of wrong calculation. The moth flies into the candle + because he doesn’t happen to know that the game is not worth the + candle. The wasp gets into the jam in hearty and hopeful efforts to get + the jam into him. IN the same way the vulgar people want to enjoy life + just as they want to enjoy gin—because they are too stupid to see + that they are paying too big a price for it. That they never find + happiness—that they don’t even know how to look for it—is + proved by the paralyzing clumsiness and ugliness of everything they do. + Their discordant colours are cries of pain. Look at the brick villas + beyond the college on this side of the river. There’s one with + spotted blinds; look at it! just go and look at it!’ + </p> + <p> + “`Of course,’ he went on dreamily, `one or two men see the + sober fact a long way off—they go mad. Do you notice that maniacs + mostly try either to destroy other things, or (if they are thoughtful) to + destroy themselves? The madman is the man behind the scenes, like the man + that wanders about the coulisse of a theater. He has only opened the wrong + door and come into the right place. He sees things at the right angle. But + the common world—’ + </p> + <p> + “`Oh, hang the common world!’ said the sullen Smith, letting + his fist fall on the table in an idle despair. + </p> + <p> + “`Let’s give it a bad name first,’ said the Professor + calmly, `and then hang it. A puppy with hydrophobia would probably + struggle for life while we killed it; but if we were kind we should kill + it. So an omniscient god would put us out of our pain. He would strike us + dead.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Why doesn’t he strike us dead?’ asked the + undergraduate abstractedly, plunging his hands into his pockets. + </p> + <p> + “`He is dead himself,’ said the philosopher; `that is where he + is really enviable.’ + </p> + <p> + “`To any one who thinks,’ proceeded Eames, `the pleasures of + life, trivial and soon tasteless, are bribes to bring us into a torture + chamber. We all see that for any thinking man mere extinction is the... + What are you doing?... Are you mad?... Put that thing down.’ + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Eames had turned his tired but still talkative head over his + shoulder, and had found himself looking into a small round black hole, + rimmed by a six-sided circlet of steel, with a sort of spike standing up + on the top. It fixed him like an iron eye. Through those eternal instants + during which the reason is stunned he did not even know what it was. Then + he saw behind it the chambered barrel and cocked hammer of a revolver, and + behind that the flushed and rather heavy face of Smith, apparently quite + unchanged, or even more mild than before. + </p> + <p> + “`I’ll help you out of your hole, old man,’ said Smith, + with rough tenderness. `I’ll put the puppy out of his pain.’ + </p> + <p> + “Emerson Eames retreated towards the window. `Do you mean to kill + me?’ he cried. + </p> + <p> + “`It’s not a thing I’d do for every one,’ said + Smith with emotion; `but you and I seem to have got so intimate to-night, + somehow. I know all your troubles now, and the only cure, old chap.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Put that thing down,’ shouted the Warden. + </p> + <p> + “`It’ll soon be over, you know,’ said Smith with the air + of a sympathetic dentist. And as the Warden made a run for the window and + balcony, his benefactor followed him with a firm step and a compassionate + expression. + </p> + <p> + “Both men were perhaps surprised to see that the gray and white of + early daybreak had already come. One of them, however, had emotions + calculated to swallow up surprise. Brakespeare College was one of the few + that retained real traces of Gothic ornament, and just beneath Dr. Eames’s + balcony there ran out what had perhaps been a flying buttress, still + shapelessly shaped into gray beasts and devils, but blinded with mosses + and washed out with rains. With an ungainly and most courageous leap, + Eames sprang out on this antique bridge, as the only possible mode of + escape from the maniac. He sat astride of it, still in his academic gown, + dangling his long thin legs, and considering further chances of flight. + The whitening daylight opened under as well as over him that impression of + vertical infinity already remarked about the little lakes round + Brakespeare. Looking down and seeing the spires and chimneys pendent in + the pools, they felt alone in space. They felt as if they were looking + over the edge from the North Pole and seeing the South Pole below. + </p> + <p> + “`Hang the world, we said,’ observed Smith, `and the world is + hanged. “He has hanged the world upon nothing,” says the + Bible. Do you like being hanged upon nothing? I’m going to be hanged + upon something myself. I’m going to swing for you... Dear, tender + old phrase,’ he murmured; `never true till this moment. I am going + to swing for you. For you, dear friend. For your sake. At your express + desire.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Help!’ cried the Warden of Brakespeare College; `help!’ + </p> + <p> + “`The puppy struggles,’ said the undergraduate, with an eye of + pity, `the poor puppy struggles. How fortunate it is that I am wiser and + kinder than he,’ and he sighted his weapon so as exactly to cover + the upper part of Eames’s bald head. + </p> + <p> + “`Smith,’ said the philosopher with a sudden change to a sort + of ghastly lucidity, `I shall go mad.’ + </p> + <p> + “`And so look at things from the right angle,’ observed Smith, + sighing gently. `Ah, but madness is only a palliative at best, a drug. The + only cure is an operation—an operation that is always successful: + death.’ + </p> + <p> + “As he spoke the sun rose. It seemed to put colour into everything, + with the rapidity of a lightning artist. A fleet of little clouds sailing + across the sky changed from pigeon-gray to pink. All over the little + academic town the tops of different buildings took on different tints: + here the sun would pick out the green enameled on a pinnacle, there the + scarlet tiles of a villa; here the copper ornament on some artistic shop, + and there the sea-blue slates of some old and steep church roof. All these + coloured crests seemed to have something oddly individual and significant + about them, like crests of famous knights pointed out in a pageant or a + battlefield: they each arrested the eye, especially the rolling eye of + Emerson Eames as he looked round on the morning and accepted it as his + last. Through a narrow chink between a black timber tavern and a big gray + college he could see a clock with gilt hands which the sunshine set on + fire. He stared at it as though hypnotized; and suddenly the clock began + to strike, as if in personal reply. As if at a signal, clock after clock + took up the cry: all the churches awoke like chickens at cockcrow. The + birds were already noisy in the trees behind the college. The sun rose, + gathering glory that seemed too full for the deep skies to hold, and the + shallow waters beneath them seemed golden and brimming and deep enough for + the thirst of the gods. Just round the corner of the College, and visible + from his crazy perch, were the brightest specks on that bright landscape, + the villa with the spotted blinds which he had made his text that night. + He wondered for the first time what people lived in them. + </p> + <p> + “Suddenly he called out with mere querulous authority, as he might + have called to a student to shut a door. + </p> + <p> + “`Let me come off this place,’ he cried; `I can’t bear + it.’ + </p> + <p> + “`I rather doubt if it will bear you,’ said Smith critically; + `but before you break your neck, or I blow out your brains, or let you + back into this room (on which complex points I am undecided) I want the + metaphysical point cleared up. Do I understand that you want to get back + to life?’ + </p> + <p> + “`I’d give anything to get back,’ replied the unhappy + professor. + </p> + <p> + “`Give anything!’ cried Smith; `then, blast your impudence, + give us a song!’ + </p> + <p> + “`What song do you mean?’ demanded the exasperated Eames; + `what song?’ + </p> + <p> + “`A hymn, I think, would be most appropriate,’ answered the + other gravely. `I’ll let you off if you’ll repeat after me the + words— + </p> + <p> + “`I thank the goodness and the grace That on my birth have smiled. + And perched me on this curious place, A happy English child.’ + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Emerson Eames having briefly complied, his persecutor abruptly + told him to hold his hands up in the air. Vaguely connecting this + proceeding with the usual conduct of brigands and bushrangers, Mr. Eames + held them up, very stiffly, but without marked surprise. A bird alighting + on his stone seat took no more notice of him than of a comic statue. + </p> + <p> + “`You are now engaged in public worship,’ remarked Smith + severely, `and before I have done with you, you shall thank God for the + very ducks on the pond.’ + </p> + <p> + “The celebrated pessimist half articulately expressed his perfect + readiness to thank God for the ducks on the pond. + </p> + <p> + “`Not forgetting the drakes,’ said Smith sternly. (Eames + weakly conceded the drakes.) `Not forgetting anything, please. You shall + thank heaven for churches and chapels and villas and vulgar people and + puddles and pots and pans and sticks and rags and bones and spotted + blinds.’ + </p> + <p> + “`All right, all right,’ repeated the victim in despair; + `sticks and rags and bones and blinds.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Spotted blinds, I think we said,’ remarked Smith with a + rogueish ruthlessness, and wagging the pistol-barrel at him like a long + metallic finger. + </p> + <p> + “`Spotted blinds,’ said Emerson Eames faintly. + </p> + <p> + “`You can’t say fairer than that,’ admitted the younger + man, `and now I’ll just tell you this to wind up with. If you really + were what you profess to be, I don’t see that it would matter to + snail or seraph if you broke your impious stiff neck and dashed out all + your drivelling devil-worshipping brains. But in strict biographical fact + you are a very nice fellow, addicted to talking putrid nonsense, and I + love you like a brother. I shall therefore fire off all my cartridges + round your head so as not to hit you (I am a good shot, you may be glad to + hear), and then we will go in and have some breakfast.’ + </p> + <p> + “He then let off two barrels in the air, which the Professor endured + with singular firmness, and then said, `But don’t fire them all off.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Why not’ asked the other buoyantly. + </p> + <p> + “`Keep them,’ asked his companion, `for the next man you meet + who talks as we were talking.’ + </p> + <p> + “It was at this moment that Smith, looking down, perceived + apoplectic terror upon the face of the Sub-Warden, and heard the refined + shriek with which he summoned the porter and the ladder. + </p> + <p> + “It took Dr. Eames some little time to disentangle himself from the + ladder, and some little time longer to disentangle himself from the + Sub-Warden. But as soon as he could do so unobtrusively, he rejoined his + companion in the late extraordinary scene. He was astonished to find the + gigantic Smith heavily shaken, and sitting with his shaggy head on his + hands. When addressed, he lifted a very pale face. + </p> + <p> + “`Why, what is the matter?’ asked Eames, whose own nerves had + by this time twittered themselves quiet, like the morning birds. + </p> + <p> + “`I must ask your indulgence,’ said Smith, rather brokenly. `I + must ask you to realize that I have just had an escape from death.’ + </p> + <p> + “`YOU have had an escape from death?’ repeated the Professor + in not unpardonable irritation. `Well, of all the cheek—’ + </p> + <p> + “`Oh, don’t you understand, don’t you understand?’ + cried the pale young man impatiently. `I had to do it, Eames; I had to + prove you wrong or die. When a man’s young, he nearly always has + some one whom he thinks the top-water mark of the mind of man— some + one who knows all about it, if anybody knows. + </p> + <p> + “`Well, you were that to me; you spoke with authority, and not as + the scribes. Nobody could comfort me if YOU said there was no comfort. If + you really thought there was nothing anywhere, it was because you had been + there to see. Don’t you see that I HAD to prove you didn’t + really mean it?— or else drown myself in the canal.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Well,’ said Eames hesitatingly, `I think perhaps you confuse—’ + </p> + <p> + “`Oh, don’t tell me that!’ cried Smith with the sudden + clairvoyance of mental pain; `don’t tell me I confuse enjoyment of + existence with the Will to Live! That’s German, and German is High + Dutch, and High Dutch is Double Dutch. The thing I saw shining in your + eyes when you dangled on that bridge was enjoyment of life and not “the + Will to Live.” What you knew when you sat on that damned gargoyle + was that the world, when all is said and done, is a wonderful and + beautiful place; I know it, because I knew it at the same minute. I saw + the gray clouds turn pink, and the little gilt clock in the crack between + the houses. It was THOSE things you hated leaving, not Life, whatever that + is. Eames, we’ve been to the brink of death together; won’t + you admit I’m right?’ + </p> + <p> + “`Yes,’ said Eames very slowly, `I think you are right. You + shall have a First!’ + </p> + <p> + “`Right!’ cried Smith, springing up reanimated. `I’ve + passed with honours, and now let me go and see about being sent down.’ + </p> + <p> + “`You needn’t be sent down,’ said Eames with the quiet + confidence of twelve years of intrigue. `Everything with us comes from the + man on top to the people just round him: I am the man on top, and I shall + tell the people round me the truth.’ + </p> + <p> + “The massive Mr. Smith rose and went firmly to the window, but he + spoke with equal firmness. `I must be sent down,’ he said, `and the + people must not be told the truth.’ + </p> + <p> + “`And why not’ asked the other. + </p> + <p> + “`Because I mean to follow your advice,’ answered the massive + youth, `I mean to keep the remaining shots for people in the shameful + state you and I were in last night—I wish we could even plead + drunkenness. I mean to keep those bullets for pessimists—pills for + pale people. And in this way I want to walk the world like a wonderful + surprise— to float as idly as the thistledown, and come as silently + as the sunrise; not to be expected any more than the thunderbolt, not to + be recalled any more than the dying breeze. I don’t want people to + anticipate me as a well-known practical joke. I want both my gifts to come + virgin and violent, the death and the life after death. I am going to hold + a pistol to the head of the Modern Man. But I shall not use it to kill him—only + to bring him to life. I begin to see a new meaning in being the skeleton + at the feast.’ + </p> + <p> + “`You can scarcely be called a skeleton,’ said Dr. Eames, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “`That comes of being so much at the feast,’ answered the + massive youth. `No skeleton can keep his figure if he is always dining + out. But that is not quite what I meant: what I mean is that I caught a + kind of glimpse of the meaning of death and all that—the skull and + cross-bones, the ~memento mori~. It isn’t only meant to remind us of + a future life, but to remind us of a present life too. With our weak + spirits we should grow old in eternity if we were not kept young by death. + Providence has to cut immortality into lengths for us, as nurses cut the + bread and butter into fingers.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then he added suddenly in a voice of unnatural actuality, `But I + know something now, Eames. I knew it when I saw the clouds turn pink.’ + </p> + <p> + “`What do you mean?’ asked Eames. `What did you know?’ + </p> + <p> + “`I knew for the first time that murder is really wrong.’ + </p> + <p> + “He gripped Dr. Eames’s hand and groped his way somewhat + unsteadily to the door. Before he had vanished through it he had added, + `It’s very dangerous, though, when a man thinks for a split second + that he understands death.’ + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Eames remained in repose and rumination some hours after his + late assailant had left. Then he rose, took his hat and umbrella, and went + for a brisk if rotatory walk. Several times, however, he stood outside the + villa with the spotted blinds, studying them intently with his head + slightly on one side. Some took him for a lunatic and some for an + intending purchaser. He is not yet sure that the two characters would be + widely different. + </p> + <p> + “The above narrative has been constructed on a principle which is, + in the opinion of the undersigned persons, new in the art of letters. Each + of the two actors is described as he appeared to the other. But the + undersigned persons absolutely guarantee the exactitude of the story; and + if their version of the thing be questioned, they, the undersigned + persons, would deucedly well like to know who does know about it if they + don’t. + </p> + <p> + “The undersigned persons will now adjourn to `The Spotted Dog’ + for beer. Farewell. + </p> + <p> + “(Signed) James Emerson Eames, “Warden of Brakespeare College, + Cambridge. + </p> + <p> + “Innocent Smith.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II — The Two Curates; or, the Burglary Charge + </h2> + <p> + Arthur Inglewood handed the document he had just read to the leaders of + the prosecution, who examined it with their heads together. Both the Jew + and the American were of sensitive and excitable stocks, and they revealed + by the jumpings and bumpings of the black head and the yellow that nothing + could be done in the way of denial of the document. The letter from the + Warden was as authentic as the letter from the Sub-Warden, however + regrettably different in dignity and social tone. + </p> + <p> + “Very few words,” said Inglewood, “are required to + conclude our case in this matter. Surely it is now plain that our client + carried his pistol about with the eccentric but innocent purpose of giving + a wholesome scare to those whom he regarded as blasphemers. In each case + the scare was so wholesome that the victim himself has dated from it as + from a new birth. Smith, so far from being a madman, is rather a mad + doctor— he walks the world curing frenzies and not distributing + them. That is the answer to the two unanswerable questions which I put to + the prosecutors. That is why they dared not produce a line by any one who + had actually confronted the pistol. All who had actually confronted the + pistol confessed that they had profited by it. That was why Smith, though + a good shot, never hit anybody. He never hit anybody because he was a good + shot. His mind was as clear of murder as his hands are of blood. This, I + say, is the only possible explanation of these facts and of all the other + facts. No one can possibly explain the Warden’s conduct except by + believing the Warden’s story. Even Dr. Pym, who is a very factory of + ingenious theories, could find no other theory to cover the case.” + </p> + <p> + “There are promising per-spectives in hypnotism and dual + personality,” said Dr. Cyrus Pym dreamily; “the science of + criminology is in its infancy, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Infancy!” cried Moon, jerking his red pencil in the air with + a gesture of enlightenment; “why, that explains it!” + </p> + <p> + “I repeat,” proceeded Inglewood, “that neither Dr. Pym + nor any one else can account on any other theory but ours for the Warden’s + signature, for the shots missed and the witnesses missing.” + </p> + <p> + The little Yankee had slipped to his feet with some return of a + cock-fighting coolness. “The defence,” he said, “omits a + coldly colossal fact. They say we produce none of the actual victims. Wal, + here is one victim—England’s celebrated and stricken Warner. I + reckon he is pretty well produced. And they suggest that all the outrages + were followed by reconciliation. Wal, there’s no flies on England’s + Warner; and he isn’t reconciliated much.” + </p> + <p> + “My learned friend,” said Moon, getting elaborately to his + feet, “must remember that the science of shooting Dr. Warner is in + its infancy. Dr. Warner would strike the idlest eye as one specially + difficult to startle into any recognition of the glory of God. We admit + that our client, in this one instance, failed, and that the operation was + not successful. But I am empowered to offer, on behalf of my client, a + proposal for operating on Dr. Warner again, at his earliest convenience, + and without further fees.” + </p> + <p> + “‘Ang it all, Michael,” cried Gould, quite serious for + the first time in his life, “you might give us a bit of bally sense + for a chinge.” + </p> + <p> + “What was Dr. Warner talking about just before the first shot?” + asked Moon sharply. + </p> + <p> + “The creature,” said Dr. Warner superciliously, “asked + me, with characteristic rationality, whether it was my birthday.” + </p> + <p> + “And you answered, with characteristic swank,” cried Moon, + shooting out a long lean finger, as rigid and arresting as the pistol of + Smith, “that you didn’t keep your birthday.” + </p> + <p> + “Something like that,” assented the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” continued Moon, “he asked you why not, and you + said it was because you didn’t see that birth was anything to + rejoice over. Agreed? Now is there any one who doubts that our tale is + true?” + </p> + <p> + There was a cold crash of stillness in the room; and Moon said, “Pax + populi vox Dei; it is the silence of the people that is the voice of God. + Or in Dr. Pym’s more civilized language, it is up to him to open the + next charge. On this we claim an acquittal.” + </p> + <p> + It was about an hour later. Dr. Cyrus Pym had remained for an + unprecedented time with his eyes closed and his thumb and finger in the + air. It almost seemed as if he had been “struck so,” as the + nurses say; and in the deathly silence Michael Moon felt forced to relieve + the strain with some remark. For the last half-hour or so the eminent + criminologist had been explaining that science took the same view of + offences against property as it did of offences against life. “Most + murder,” he had said, “is a variation of homicidal mania, and + in the same way most theft is a version of kleptomania. I cannot entertain + any doubt that my learned friends opposite adequately con-ceive how this + must involve a scheme of punishment more tol’rant and humane than + the cruel methods of ancient codes. They will doubtless exhibit + consciousness of a chasm so eminently yawning, so thought-arresting, so—” + It was here that he paused and indulged in the delicate gesture to which + allusion has been made; and Michael could bear it no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” he said impatiently, “we admit the chasm. + The old cruel codes accuse a man of theft and send him to prison for ten + years. The tolerant and humane ticket accuses him of nothing and sends him + to prison for ever. We pass the chasm.” + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of the eminent Pym, in one of his trances of verbal + fastidiousness, that he went on, unconscious not only of his opponent’s + interruption, but even of his own pause. + </p> + <p> + “So stock-improving,” continued Dr. Cyrus Pym, “so + fraught with real high hopes of the future. Science therefore regards + thieves, in the abstract, just as it regards murderers. It regards them + not as sinners to be punished for an arbitrary period, but as patients to + be detained and cared for,” (his first two digits closed again as he + hesitated)—“in short, for the required period. But there is + something special in the case we investigate here. Kleptomania commonly + con-joins itself—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon,” said Michael; “I did not ask just now + because, to tell the truth, I really thought Dr. Pym, though seemingly + vertical, was enjoying well-earned slumber, with a pinch in his fingers of + scentless and delicate dust. But now that things are moving a little more, + there is something I should really like to know. I have hung on Dr. Pym’s + lips, of course, with an interest that it were weak to call rapture, but I + have so far been unable to form any conjecture about what the accused, in + the present instance, is supposed to have been and gone and done.” + </p> + <p> + “If Mr. Moon will have patience,” said Pym with dignity, + “he will find that this was the very point to which my exposition + was di-rected. Kleptomania, I say, exhibits itself as a kind of physical + attraction to certain defined materials; and it has been held (by no less + a man than Harris) that this is the ultimate explanation of the strict + specialism and vurry narrow professional outlook of most criminals. One + will have an irresistible physical impulsion towards pearl sleeve-links, + while he passes over the most elegant and celebrated diamond sleeve-links, + placed about in the most conspicuous locations. Another will impede his + flight with no less than forty-seven buttoned boots, while elastic-sided + boots leave him cold, and even sarcastic. The specialism of the criminal, + I repeat, is a mark rather of insanity than of any brightness of business + habits; but there is one kind of depredator to whom this principle is at + first sight hard to apply. I allude to our fellow-citizen the + housebreaker. + </p> + <p> + “It has been maintained by some of our boldest young truth-seekers, + that the eye of a burglar beyond the back-garden wall could hardly be + caught and hypnotized by a fork that is insulated in a locked box under + the butler’s bed. They have thrown down the gauntlet to American + science on this point. They declare that diamond links are not left about + in conspicuous locations in the haunts of the lower classes, as they were + in the great test experiment of Calypso College. We hope this experiment + here will be an answer to that young ringing challenge, and will bring the + burglar once more into line and union with his fellow criminals.” + </p> + <p> + Moon, whose face had gone through every phase of black bewilderment for + five minutes past, suddenly lifted his hand and struck the table in + explosive enlightenment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see!” he cried; “you mean that Smith is a + burglar.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I made it quite ad’quately lucid,” said Mr. + Pym, folding up his eyelids. It was typical of this topsy-turvy private + trial that all the eloquent extras, all the rhetoric or digression on + either side, was exasperating and unintelligible to the other. Moon could + not make head or tail of the solemnity of a new civilization. Pym could + not make head or tail of the gaiety of an old one. + </p> + <p> + “All the cases in which Smith has figured as an expropriator,” + continued the American doctor, “are cases of burglary. Pursuing the + same course as in the previous case, we select the indubitable instance + from the rest, and we take the most correct cast-iron evidence. I will now + call on my colleague, Mr. Gould, to read a letter we have received from + the earnest, unspotted Canon of Durham, Canon Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Moses Gould leapt up with his usual alacrity to read the letter from + the earnest and unspotted Hawkins. Moses Gould could imitate a farmyard + well, Sir Henry Irving not so well, Marie Lloyd to a point of excellence, + and the new motor horns in a manner that put him upon the platform of + great artists. But his imitation of a Canon of Durham was not convincing; + indeed, the sense of the letter was so much obscured by the extraordinary + leaps and gasps of his pronunciation that it is perhaps better to print it + here as Moon read it when, a little later, it was handed across the table. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir,—I can scarcely feel surprise that the incident you + mention, private as it was, should have filtered through our omnivorous + journals to the mere populace; for the position I have since attained + makes me, I conceive, a public character, and this was certainly the most + extraordinary incident in a not uneventful and perhaps not an unimportant + career. I am by no means without experience in scenes of civil tumult. I + have faced many a political crisis in the old Primrose League days at + Herne Bay, and, before I broke with the wilder set, have spent many a + night at the Christian Social Union. But this other experience was quite + inconceivable. I can only describe it as the letting loose of a place + which it is not for me, as a clergyman, to mention. + </p> + <p> + “It occurred in the days when I was, for a short period, a curate at + Hoxton; and the other curate, then my colleague, induced me to attend a + meeting which he described, I must say profanely described, as calculated + to promote the kingdom of God. I found, on the contrary, that it consisted + entirely of men in corduroys and greasy clothes whose manners were coarse + and their opinions extreme. + </p> + <p> + “Of my colleague in question I wish to speak with the fullest + respect and friendliness, and I will therefore say little. No one can be + more convinced than I of the evil of politics in the pulpit; and I never + offer my congregation any advice about voting except in cases in which I + feel strongly that they are likely to make an erroneous selection. But, + while I do not mean to touch at all upon political or social problems, I + must say that for a clergyman to countenance, even in jest, such + discredited nostrums of dissipated demagogues as Socialism or Radicalism + partakes of the character of the betrayal of a sacred trust. Far be it + from me to say a word against the Reverend Raymond Percy, the colleague in + question. He was brilliant, I suppose, and to some apparently fascinating; + but a clergyman who talks like a Socialist, wears his hair like a pianist, + and behaves like an intoxicated person, will never rise in his profession, + or even obtain the admiration of the good and wise. Nor is it for me to + utter my personal judgements of the appearance of the people in the hall. + Yet a glance round the room, revealing ranks of debased and envious faces—” + </p> + <p> + “Adopting,” said Moon explosively, for he was getting restive—“adopting + the reverend gentleman’s favourite figure of logic, may I say that + while tortures would not tear from me a whisper about his intellect, he is + a blasted old jackass.” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” said Dr. Pym; “I protest.” + </p> + <p> + “You must keep quiet, Michael,” said Inglewood; “they + have a right to read their story.” + </p> + <p> + “Chair! Chair! Chair!” cried Gould, rolling about exuberantly + in his own; and Pym glanced for a moment towards the canopy which covered + all the authority of the Court of Beacon. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t wake the old lady,” said Moon, lowering his + voice in a moody good-humour. “I apologize. I won’t interrupt + again.” + </p> + <p> + Before the little eddy of interruption was ended the reading of the + clergyman’s letter was already continuing. + </p> + <p> + “The proceedings opened with a speech from my colleague, of which I + will say nothing. It was deplorable. Many of the audience were Irish, and + showed the weakness of that impetuous people. When gathered together into + gangs and conspiracies they seem to lose altogether that lovable + good-nature and readiness to accept anything one tells them which + distinguishes them as individuals.” + </p> + <p> + With a slight start, Michael rose to his feet, bowed solemnly, and sat + down again. + </p> + <p> + “These persons, if not silent, were at least applausive during the + speech of Mr. Percy. He descended to their level with witticisms about + rent and a reserve of labour. Confiscation, expropriation, arbitration, + and such words with which I cannot soil my lips, recurred constantly. Some + hours afterward the storm broke. I had been addressing the meeting for + some time, pointing out the lack of thrift in the working classes, their + insufficient attendance at evening service, their neglect of the Harvest + Festival, and of many other things that might materially help them to + improve their lot. It was, I think, about this time that an extraordinary + interruption occurred. An enormous, powerful man, partly concealed with + white plaster, arose in the middle of the hall, and offered (in a loud, + roaring voice, like a bull’s) some observations which seemed to be + in a foreign language. Mr. Raymond Percy, my colleague, descended to his + level by entering into a duel of repartee, in which he appeared to be the + victor. The meeting began to behave more respectfully for a little; yet + before I had said twelve sentences more the rush was made for the + platform. The enormous plasterer, in particular, plunged towards us, + shaking the earth like an elephant; and I really do not know what would + have happened if a man equally large, but not quite so ill-dressed, had + not jumped up also and held him away. This other big man shouted a sort of + speech to the mob as he was shoving them back. I don’t know what he + said, but, what with shouting and shoving and such horseplay, he got us + out at a back door, while the wretched people went roaring down another + passage. + </p> + <p> + “Then follows the truly extraordinary part of my story. When he had + got us outside, in a mean backyard of blistered grass leading into a lane + with a very lonely-looking lamp-post, this giant addressed me as follows: + `You’re well out of that, sir; now you’d better come along + with me. I want you to help me in an act of social justice, such as we’ve + all been talking about. Come along!’ And turning his big back + abruptly, he led us down the lean old lane with the one lean old + lamp-post, we scarcely knowing what to do but to follow him. He had + certainly helped us in a most difficult situation, and, as a gentleman, I + could not treat such a benefactor with suspicion without grave grounds. + Such also was the view of my Socialistic colleague, who (with all his + dreadful talk of arbitration) is a gentleman also. In fact, he comes of + the Staffordshire Percys, a branch of the old house and has the black hair + and pale, clear-cut face of the whole family. I cannot but refer it to + vanity that he should heighten his personal advantages with black velvet + or a red cross of considerable ostentation, and certainly—but I + digress. + </p> + <p> + “A fog was coming up the street, and that last lost lamp-post faded + behind us in a way that certainly depressed the mind. The large man in + front of us looked larger and larger in the haze. He did not turn round, + but he said with his huge back to us, `All that talking’s no good; + we want a little practical Socialism.’ + </p> + <p> + “`I quite agree,’ said Percy; `but I always like to understand + things in theory before I put them into practice.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Oh, you just leave that to me,’ said the practical + Socialist, or whatever he was, with the most terrifying vagueness. `I have + a way with me. I’m a Permeator.’ + </p> + <p> + “I could not imagine what he meant, but my companion laughed, so I + was sufficiently reassured to continue the unaccountable journey for the + present. It led us through most singular ways; out of the lane, where we + were already rather cramped, into a paved passage, at the end of which we + passed through a wooden gate left open. We then found ourselves, in the + increasing darkness and vapour, crossing what appeared to be a beaten path + across a kitchen garden. I called out to the enormous person going on in + front, but he answered obscurely that it was a short cut. + </p> + <p> + “I was just repeating my very natural doubt to my clerical companion + when I was brought up against a short ladder, apparently leading to a + higher level of road. My thoughtless colleague ran up it so quickly that I + could not do otherwise than follow as best I could. The path on which I + then planted my feet was quite unprecedentedly narrow. I had never had to + walk along a thoroughfare so exiguous. Along one side of it grew what, in + the dark and density of air, I first took to be some short, strong thicket + of shrubs. Then I saw that they were not short shrubs; they were the tops + of tall trees. I, an English gentleman and clergyman of the Church of + England—I was walking along the top of a garden wall like a tom cat. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to say that I stopped within my first five steps, and let + loose my just reprobation, balancing myself as best I could all the time. + </p> + <p> + “`It’s a right-of-way,’ declared my indefensible + informant. `It’s closed to traffic once in a hundred years.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Mr. Percy, Mr. Percy!’ I called out; `you are not going on + with this blackguard?’ + </p> + <p> + “`Why, I think so,’ answered my unhappy colleague flippantly. + `I think you and I are bigger blackguards than he is, whatever he is.’ + </p> + <p> + “`I am a burglar,’ explained the big creature quite calmly. `I + am a member of the Fabian Society. I take back the wealth stolen by the + capitalist, not by sweeping civil war and revolution, but by reform fitted + to the special occasion—here a little and there a little. Do you see + that fifth house along the terrace with the flat roof? I’m + permeating that one to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Whether this is a crime or a joke,’ I cried, `I desire to be + quit of it.’ + </p> + <p> + “`The ladder is just behind you,’ answered the creature with + horrible courtesy; `and, before you go, do let me give you my card.’ + </p> + <p> + “If I had had the presence of mind to show any proper spirit I + should have flung it away, though any adequate gesture of the kind would + have gravely affected my equilibrium upon the wall. As it was, in the + wildness of the moment, I put it in my waistcoat pocket, and, picking my + way back by wall and ladder, landed in the respectable streets once more. + Not before, however, I had seen with my own eyes the two awful and + lamentable facts— that the burglar was climbing up a slanting roof + towards the chimneys, and that Raymond Percy (a priest of God and, what + was worse, a gentleman) was crawling up after him. I have never seen + either of them since that day. + </p> + <p> + “In consequence of this soul-searching experience I severed my + connection with the wild set. I am far from saying that every member of + the Christian Social Union must necessarily be a burglar. I have no right + to bring any such charge. But it gave me a hint of what such courses may + lead to in many cases; and I saw them no more. + </p> + <p> + “I have only to add that the photograph you enclose, taken by a Mr. + Inglewood, is undoubtedly that of the burglar in question. When I got home + that night I looked at his card, and he was inscribed there under the name + of Innocent Smith.—Yours faithfully, “John Clement Hawkins.” + </p> + <p> + Moon merely went through the form of glancing at the paper. He knew that + the prosecutors could not have invented so heavy a document; that Moses + Gould (for one) could no more write like a canon than he could read like + one. After handing it back he rose to open the defence on the burglary + charge. + </p> + <p> + “We wish,” said Michael, “to give all reasonable + facilities to the prosecution; especially as it will save the time of the + whole court. The latter object I shall once again pursue by passing over + all those points of theory which are so dear to Dr. Pym. I know how they + are made. Perjury is a variety of aphasia, leading a man to say one thing + instead of another. Forgery is a kind of writer’s cramp, forcing a + man to write his uncle’s name instead of his own. Piracy on the high + seas is probably a form of sea-sickness. But it is unnecessary for us to + inquire into the causes of a fact which we deny. Innocent Smith never did + commit burglary at all. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to claim the power permitted by our previous + arrangement, and ask the prosecution two or three questions.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Cyrus Pym closed his eyes to indicate a courteous assent. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place,” continued Moon, “have you the date + of Canon Hawkins’s last glimpse of Smith and Percy climbing up the + walls and roofs?” + </p> + <p> + “Ho, yus!” called out Gould smartly. “November thirteen, + eighteen ninety-one.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you,” continued Moon, “identified the houses in + Hoxton up which they climbed?” + </p> + <p> + “Must have been Ladysmith Terrace out of the highroad,” + answered Gould with the same clockwork readiness. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Michael, cocking an eyebrow at him, “was + there any burglary in that terrace that night? Surely you could find that + out.” + </p> + <p> + “There may well have been,” said the doctor primly, after a + pause, “an unsuccessful one that led to no legalities.” + </p> + <p> + “Another question,” proceeded Michael. “Canon Hawkins, + in his blood-and-thunder boyish way, left off at the exciting moment. Why + don’t you produce the evidence of the other clergyman, who actually + followed the burglar and presumably was present at the crime?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Pym rose and planted the points of his fingers on the table, as he did + when he was specially confident of the clearness of his reply. + </p> + <p> + “We have entirely failed,” he said, “to track the other + clergyman, who seems to have melted into the ether after Canon Hawkins had + seen him as-cending the gutters and the leads. I am fully aware that this + may strike many as sing’lar; yet, upon reflection, I think it will + appear pretty natural to a bright thinker. This Mr. Raymond Percy is + admittedly, by the canon’s evidence, a minister of eccentric ways. + His con-nection with England’s proudest and fairest does not + seemingly prevent a taste for the society of the real low-down. On the + other hand, the prisoner Smith is, by general agreement, a man of irr’sistible + fascination. I entertain no doubt that Smith led the Revered Percy into + the crime and forced him to hide his head in the real crim’nal + class. That would fully account for his non-appearance, and the failure of + all attempts to trace him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible, then, to trace him?” asked Moon. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible,” repeated the specialist, shutting his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are sure it’s impossible?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dry up, Michael,” cried Gould, irritably. “We’d + ‘ave found ‘im if we could, for you bet ‘e saw the burglary. + Don’t YOU start looking for ‘im. Look for your own ‘ead + in the dustbin. You’ll find that—after a bit,” and his + voice died away in grumbling. + </p> + <p> + “Arthur,” directed Michael Moon, sitting down, “kindly + read Mr. Raymond Percy’s letter to the court.” + </p> + <p> + “Wishing, as Mr. Moon has said, to shorten the proceedings as much + as possible,” began Inglewood, “I will not read the first part + of the letter sent to us. It is only fair to the prosecution to admit the + account given by the second clergyman fully ratifies, as far as facts are + concerned, that given by the first clergyman. We concede, then, the canon’s + story so far as it goes. This must necessarily be valuable to the + prosecutor and also convenient to the court. I begin Mr. Percy’s + letter, then, at the point when all three men were standing on the garden + wall:— + </p> + <p> + “As I watched Hawkins wavering on the wall, I made up my own mind + not to waver. A cloud of wrath was on my brain, like the cloud of copper + fog on the houses and gardens round. My decision was violent and simple; + yet the thoughts that led up to it were so complicated and contradictory + that I could not retrace them now. I knew Hawkins was a kind, innocent + gentleman; and I would have given ten pounds for the pleasure of kicking + him down the road. That God should allow good people to be as bestially + stupid as that— rose against me like a towering blasphemy. + </p> + <p> + “At Oxford, I fear, I had the artistic temperament rather badly; and + artists love to be limited. I liked the church as a pretty pattern; + discipline was mere decoration. I delighted in mere divisions of time; I + liked eating fish on Friday. But then I like fish; and the fast was made + for men who like meat. Then I came to Hoxton and found men who had fasted + for five hundred years; men who had to gnaw fish because they could not + get meat—and fish-bones when they could not get fish. As too many + British officers treat the army as a review, so I had treated the Church + Militant as if it were the Church Pageant. Hoxton cures that. Then I + realized that for eighteen hundred years the Church Militant had not been + a pageant, but a riot—and a suppressed riot. There, still living + patiently in Hoxton, were the people to whom the tremendous promises had + been made. In the face of that I had to become a revolutionary if I was to + continue to be religious. In Hoxton one cannot be a conservative without + being also an atheist— and a pessimist. Nobody but the devil could + want to conserve Hoxton. + </p> + <p> + “On the top of all this comes Hawkins. If he had cursed all the + Hoxton men, excommunicated them, and told them they were going to hell, I + should have rather admired him. If he had ordered them all to be burned in + the market-place, I should still have had that patience that all good + Christians have with the wrongs inflicted on other people. But there is no + priestcraft about Hawkins—nor any other kind of craft. He is as + perfectly incapable of being a priest as he is of being a carpenter or a + cabman or a gardener or a plasterer. He is a perfect gentleman; that is + his complaint. He does not impose his creed, but simply his class. He + never said a word of religion in the whole of his damnable address. He + simply said all the things his brother, the major, would have said. A + voice from heaven assures me that he has a brother, and that this brother + is a major. + </p> + <p> + “When this helpless aristocrat had praised cleanliness in the body + and convention in the soul to people who could hardly keep body and soul + together, the stampede against our platform began. I took part in his + undeserved rescue, I followed his obscure deliverer, until (as I have + said) we stood together on the wall above the dim gardens, already + clouding with fog. Then I looked at the curate and at the burglar, and + decided, in a spasm of inspiration, that the burglar was the better man of + the two. The burglar seemed quite as kind and human as the curate was— + and he was also brave and self-reliant, which the curate was not. I knew + there was no virtue in the upper class, for I belong to it myself; I knew + there was not so very much in the lower class, for I had lived with it a + long time. Many old texts about the despised and persecuted came back to + my mind, and I thought that the saints might well be hidden in the + criminal class. About the time Hawkins let himself down the ladder I was + crawling up a low, sloping, blue-slate roof after the large man, who went + leaping in front of me like a gorilla. + </p> + <p> + “This upward scramble was short, and we soon found ourselves + tramping along a broad road of flat roofs, broader than many big + thoroughfares, with chimney-pots here and there that seemed in the haze as + bulky as small forts. The asphyxiation of the fog seemed to increase the + somewhat swollen and morbid anger under which my brain and body laboured. + The sky and all those things that are commonly clear seemed overpowered by + sinister spirits. Tall spectres with turbans of vapour seemed to stand + higher than the sun or moon, eclipsing both. I thought dimly of + illustrations to the `Arabian Nights’ on brown paper with rich but + sombre tints, showing genii gathering round the Seal of Solomon. By the + way, what was the Seal of Solomon? Nothing to do with sealing-wax really, + I suppose; but my muddled fancy felt the thick clouds as being of that + heavy and clinging substance, of strong opaque colour, poured out of + boiling pots and stamped into monstrous emblems. + </p> + <p> + “The first effect of the tall turbaned vapours was that discoloured + look of pea-soup or coffee brown of which Londoners commonly speak. But + the scene grew subtler with familiarity. We stood above the average of the + housetops and saw something of that thing called smoke, which in great + cities creates the strange thing called fog. Beneath us rose a forest of + chimney-pots. And there stood in every chimney-pot, as if it were a + flower-pot, a brief shrub or a tall tree of coloured vapour. The colours + of the smoke were various; for some chimneys were from firesides and some + from factories, and some again from mere rubbish heaps. And yet, though + the tints were all varied, they all seemed unnatural, like fumes from a + witch’s pot. It was as if the shameful and ugly shapes growing + shapeless in the cauldron sent up each its separate spurt of steam, + coloured according to the fish or flesh consumed. Here, aglow from + underneath, were dark red clouds, such as might drift from dark jars of + sacrificial blood; there the vapour was dark indigo gray, like the long + hair of witches steeped in the hell-broth. In another place the smoke was + of an awful opaque ivory yellow, such as might be the disembodiment of one + of their old, leprous waxen images. But right across it ran a line of + bright, sinister, sulphurous green, as clear and crooked as Arabic—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Moses Gould once more attempted the arrest of the ‘bus. He was + understood to suggest that the reader should shorten the proceedings by + leaving out all the adjectives. Mrs. Duke, who had woken up, observed that + she was sure it was all very nice, and the decision was duly noted down by + Moses with a blue, and by Michael with a red pencil. Inglewood then + resumed the reading of the document. + </p> + <p> + “Then I read the writing of the smoke. Smoke was like the modern + city that makes it; it is not always dull or ugly, but it is always wicked + and vain. + </p> + <p> + “Modern England was like a cloud of smoke; it could carry all + colours, but it could leave nothing but a stain. It was our weakness and + not our strength that put a rich refuse in the sky. These were the rivers + of our vanity pouring into the void. We had taken the sacred circle of the + whirlwind, and looked down on it, and seen it as a whirlpool. And then we + had used it as a sink. It was a good symbol of the mutiny in my own mind. + Only our worst things were going to heaven. Only our criminals could still + ascend like angels. + </p> + <p> + “As my brain was blinded with such emotions, my guide stopped by one + of the big chimney-pots that stood at the regular intervals like + lamp-posts along that uplifted and aerial highway. He put his heavy hand + upon it, and for the moment I thought he was merely leaning on it, tired + with his steep scramble along the terrace. So far as I could guess from + the abysses, full of fog on either side, and the veiled lights of red + brown and old gold glowing through them now and again, we were on the top + of one of those long, consecutive, and genteel rows of houses which are + still to be found lifting their heads above poorer districts, the remains + of some rage of optimism in earlier speculative builders. Probably enough, + they were entirely untenanted, or tenanted only by such small clans of the + poor as gather also in the old emptied palaces of Italy. Indeed, some + little time later, when the fog had lifted a little, I discovered that we + were walking round a semi-circle of crescent which fell away below us into + one flat square or wide street below another, like a giant stairway, in a + manner not unknown in the eccentric building of London, and looking like + the last ledges of the land. But a cloud sealed the giant stairway as yet. + </p> + <p> + “My speculations about the sullen skyscape, however, were + interrupted by something as unexpected as the moon falling from the sky. + Instead of my burglar lifting his hand from the chimney he leaned on, he + leaned on it a little more heavily, and the whole chimney-pot turned over + like the opening top of an inkstand. I remembered the short ladder leaning + against the low wall and felt sure he had arranged his criminal approach + long before. + </p> + <p> + “The collapse of the big chimney-pot ought to have been the + culmination of my chaotic feelings; but, to tell the truth, it produced a + sudden sense of comedy and even of comfort. I could not recall what + connected this abrupt bit of housebreaking with some quaint but still + kindly fancies. Then I remembered the delightful and uproarious scenes of + roofs and chimneys in the harlequinades of my childhood, and was darkly + and quite irrationally comforted by a sense of unsubstantiality in the + scene, as if the houses were of lath and paint and pasteboard, and were + only meant to be tumbled in and out of by policemen and pantaloons. The + law-breaking of my companion seemed not only seriously excusable, but even + comically excusable. Who were all these pompous preposterous people with + their footmen and their foot-scrapers, their chimney-pots and their + chimney-pot hats, that they should prevent a poor clown from getting + sausages if he wanted them? One would suppose that property was a serious + thing. I had reached, as it were, a higher level of that mountainous and + vapourous visions, the heaven of a higher levity. + </p> + <p> + “My guide had jumped down into the dark cavity revealed by the + displaced chimney-pot. He must have landed at a level considerably lower, + for, tall as he was, nothing but his weirdly tousled head remained + visible. Something again far off, and yet familiar, pleased me about this + way of invading the houses of men. I thought of little chimney-sweeps, and + `The Water Babies;’ but I decided that it was not that. Then I + remembered what it was that made me connect such topsy-turvy trespass with + ideas quite opposite to the idea of crime. Christmas Eve, of course, and + Santa Claus coming down the chimney. + </p> + <p> + “Almost at the same instant the hairy head disappeared into the + black hole; but I heard a voice calling to me from below. A second or two + afterwards, the hairy head reappeared; it was dark against the more fiery + part of the fog, and nothing could be spelt of its expression, but its + voice called on me to follow with that enthusiastic impatience proper only + among old friends. I jumped into the gulf, and as blindly as Curtius, for + I was still thinking of Santa Claus and the traditional virtue of such + vertical entrance. + </p> + <p> + “In every well-appointed gentleman’s house, I reflected, there + was the front door for the gentlemen, and the side door for the tradesmen; + but there was also the top door for the gods. The chimney is, so to speak, + the underground passage between earth and heaven. By this starry tunnel + Santa Claus manages—like the skylark— to be true to the + kindred points of heaven and home. Nay, owing to certain conventions, and + a widely distributed lack of courage for climbing, this door was, perhaps, + little used. But Santa Claus’s door was really the front door: it + was the door fronting the universe. + </p> + <p> + “I thought this as I groped my way across the black garret, or loft + below the roof, and scrambled down the squat ladder that let us down into + a yet larger loft below. Yet it was not till I was half-way down the + ladder that I suddenly stood still, and thought for an instant of + retracing all my steps, as my companion had retraced them from the + beginning of the garden wall. The name of Santa Claus had suddenly brought + me back to my senses. I remembered why Santa Clause came, and why he was + welcome. + </p> + <p> + “I was brought up in the propertied classes, and with all their + horror of offences against property. I had heard all the regular + denunciations of robbery, both right and wrong; I had read the Ten + Commandments in church a thousand times. And then and there, at the age of + thirty-four, half-way down a ladder in a dark room in the bodily act of + burglar, I saw suddenly for the first time that theft, after all, is + really wrong. + </p> + <p> + “It was too late to turn back, however, and I followed the strangely + soft footsteps of my huge companion across the lower and larger loft, till + he knelt down on a part of the bare flooring and, after a few fumbling + efforts, lifted a sort of trapdoor. This released a light from below, and + we found ourselves looking down into a lamp-lit sitting room, of the sort + that in large houses often leads out of a bedroom, and is an adjunct to + it. Light thus breaking from beneath our feet like a soundless explosion, + showed that the trapdoor just lifted was clogged with dust and rust, and + had doubtless been long disused until the advent of my enterprising + friend. But I did not look at this long, for the sight of the shining room + underneath us had an almost unnatural attractiveness. To enter a modern + interior at so strange an angle, by so forgotten a door, was an epoch in + one’s psychology. It was like having found a fourth dimension. + </p> + <p> + “My companion dropped from the aperture into the room so suddenly + and soundlessly, that I could do nothing but follow him; though, for lack + of practice in crime, I was by no means soundless. Before the echo of my + boots had died away, the big burglar had gone quickly to the door, half + opened it, and stood looking down the staircase and listening. Then, + leaving the door still half open, he came back into the middle of the + room, and ran his roving blue eye round its furniture and ornament. The + room was comfortably lined with books in that rich and human way that + makes the walls seem alive; it was a deep and full, but slovenly, + bookcase, of the sort that is constantly ransacked for the purposes of + reading in bed. One of those stunted German stoves that look like red + goblins stood in a corner, and a sideboard of walnut wood with closed + doors in its lower part. There were three windows, high but narrow. After + another glance round, my housebreaker plucked the walnut doors open and + rummaged inside. He found nothing there, apparently, except an extremely + handsome cut-glass decanter, containing what looked like port. Somehow the + sight of the thief returning with this ridiculous little luxury in his + hand woke within me once more all the revelation and revulsion I had felt + above. + </p> + <p> + “`Don’t do it!’ I cried quite incoherently, `Santa Claus—’ + </p> + <p> + “`Ah,’ said the burglar, as he put the decanter on the table + and stood looking at me, `you’ve thought about that, too.’ + </p> + <p> + “`I can’t express a millionth part of what I’ve thought + of,’ I cried, `but it’s something like this... oh, can’t + you see it? Why are children not afraid of Santa Claus, though he comes + like a thief in the night? He is permitted secrecy, trespass, almost + treachery—because there are more toys where he has been. What should + we feel if there were less? Down what chimney from hell would come the + goblin that should take away the children’s balls and dolls while + they slept? Could a Greek tragedy be more gray and cruel than that + daybreak and awakening? Dog-stealer, horse-stealer, man-stealer—can + you think of anything so base as a toy-stealer?’ + </p> + <p> + “The burglar, as if absently, took a large revolver from his pocket + and laid it on the table beside the decanter, but still kept his blue + reflective eyes fixed on my face. + </p> + <p> + “`Man!’ I said, `all stealing is toy-stealing. That’s + why it’s really wrong. The goods of the unhappy children of men + should be really respected because of their worthlessness. I know Naboth’s + vineyard is as painted as Noah’s Ark. I know Nathan’s ewe-lamb + is really a woolly baa-lamb on a wooden stand. That is why I could not + take them away. I did not mind so much, as long as I thought of men’s + things as their valuables; but I dare not put a hand upon their vanities.’ + </p> + <p> + “After a moment I added abruptly, `Only saints and sages ought to be + robbed. They may be stripped and pillaged; but not the poor little worldly + people of the things that are their poor little pride.’ + </p> + <p> + “He set out two wineglasses from the cupboard, filled them both, and + lifted one of them with a salutation towards his lips. + </p> + <p> + “`Don’t do it!’ I cried. `It might be the last bottle of + some rotten vintage or other. The master of this house may be quite proud + of it. Don’t you see there’s something sacred in the silliness + of such things?’ + </p> + <p> + “`It’s not the last bottle,’ answered my criminal + calmly; `there’s plenty more in the cellar.’ + </p> + <p> + “`You know the house, then?’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “`Too well,’ he answered, with a sadness so strange as to have + something eerie about it. `I am always trying to forget what I know— + and to find what I don’t know.’ He drained his glass. + `Besides,’ he added, `it will do him good.’ + </p> + <p> + “`What will do him good?’ + </p> + <p> + “`The wine I’m drinking,’ said the strange person. + </p> + <p> + “`Does he drink too much, then?’ I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “`No,’ he answered, `not unless I do.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Do you mean,’ I demanded, `that the owner of this house + approves of all you do?’ + </p> + <p> + “`God forbid,’ he answered; `but he has to do the same.’ + </p> + <p> + “The dead face of the fog looking in at all three windows + unreasonable increased a sense of riddle, and even terror, about this + tall, narrow house we had entered out of the sky. I had once more the + notion about the gigantic genii— I fancied that enormous Egyptian + faces, of the dead reds and yellows of Egypt, were staring in at each + window of our little lamp-lit room as at a lighted stage of marionettes. + My companion went on playing with the pistol in front of him, and talking + with the same rather creepy confidentialness. + </p> + <p> + “`I am always trying to find him—to catch him unawares. I come + in through skylights and trapdoors to find him; but whenever I find him—he + is doing what I am doing.’ + </p> + <p> + “I sprang to my feet with a thrill of fear. `There is some one + coming,’ I cried, and my cry had something of a shriek in it. Not + from the stairs below, but along the passage from the inner bedchamber + (which seemed somehow to make it more alarming), footsteps were coming + nearer. I am quite unable to say what mystery, or monster, or double, I + expected to see when the door was pushed open from within. I am only quite + certain that I did not expect to see what I did see. + </p> + <p> + “Framed in the open doorway stood, with an air of great serenity, a + rather tall young woman, definitely though indefinably artistic— her + dress the colour of spring and her hair of autumn leaves, with a face + which, though still comparatively young, conveyed experience as well as + intelligence. All she said was, `I didn’t hear you come in.’ + </p> + <p> + “`I came in another way,’ said the Permeator, somewhat + vaguely. `I’d left my latchkey at home.’ + </p> + <p> + “I got to my feet in a mixture of politeness and mania. `I’m + really very sorry,’ I cried. `I know my position is irregular. Would + you be so obliging as to tell me whose house this is?’ + </p> + <p> + “`Mine,’ said the burglar, `May I present you to my wife?’ + </p> + <p> + “I doubtfully, and somewhat slowly, resumed my seat; and I did not + get out of it till nearly morning. Mrs. Smith (such was the prosaic name + of this far from prosaic household) lingered a little, talking slightly + and pleasantly. She left on my mind the impression of a certain odd + mixture of shyness and sharpness; as if she knew the world well, but was + still a little harmlessly afraid of it. Perhaps the possession of so jumpy + and incalculable a husband had left her a little nervous. Anyhow, when she + had retired to the inner chamber once more, that extraordinary man poured + forth his apologia and autobiography over the dwindling wine. + </p> + <p> + “He had been sent to Cambridge with a view to a mathematical and + scientific, rather than a classical or literary, career. A starless + nihilism was then the philosophy of the schools; and it bred in him a war + between the members and the spirit, but one in which the members were + right. While his brain accepted the black creed, his very body rebelled + against it. As he put it, his right hand taught him terrible things. As + the authorities of Cambridge University put it, unfortunately, it had + taken the form of his right hand flourishing a loaded firearm in the very + face of a distinguished don, and driving him to climb out of the window + and cling to a waterspout. He had done it solely because the poor don had + professed in theory a preference for non-existence. For this very + unacademic type of argument he had been sent down. Vomiting as he was with + revulsion, from the pessimism that had quailed under his pistol, he made + himself a kind of fanatic of the joy of life. He cut across all the + associations of serious-minded men. He was gay, but by no means careless. + His practical jokes were more in earnest than verbal ones. Though not an + optimist in the absurd sense of maintaining that life is all beer and + skittles, he did really seem to maintain that beer and skittles are the + most serious part of it. `What is more immortal,’ he would cry, + `than love and war? Type of all desire and joy—beer. Type of all + battle and conquest—skittles.’ + </p> + <p> + “There was something in him of what the old world called the + solemnity of revels—when they spoke of `solemnizing’ a mere + masquerade or wedding banquet. Nevertheless he was not a mere pagan any + more than he was a mere practical joker. His eccentricities sprang from a + static fact of faith, in itself mystical, and even childlike and + Christian. + </p> + <p> + “`I don’t deny,’ he said, `that there should be priests + to remind men that they will one day die. I only say that at certain + strange epochs it is necessary to have another kind of priests, called + poets, actually to remind men that they are not dead yet. The + intellectuals among whom I moved were not even alive enough to fear death. + They hadn’t enough blood in them to be cowards. Until a pistol + barrel was poked under their very noses they never even knew they had been + born. For ages looking up an eternal perspective it might be true that + life is a learning to die. But for these little white rats it was just as + true that death was their only chance of learning to live.’ + </p> + <p> + “His creed of wonder was Christian by this absolute test; that he + felt it continually slipping from himself as much as from others. He had + the same pistol for himself, as Brutus said of the dagger. He continually + ran preposterous risks of high precipice or headlong speed to keep alive + the mere conviction that he was alive. He treasured up trivial and yet + insane details that had once reminded him of the awful subconscious + reality. When the don had hung on the stone gutter, the sight of his long + dangling legs, vibrating in the void like wings, somehow awoke the naked + satire of the old definition of man as a two-legged animal without + feathers. The wretched professor had been brought into peril by his head, + which he had so elaborately cultivated, and only saved by his legs, which + he had treated with coldness and neglect. Smith could think of no other + way of announcing or recording this, except to send a telegram to an old + friend (by this time a total stranger) to say that he had just seen a man + with two legs; and that the man was alive. + </p> + <p> + “The uprush of his released optimism burst into stars like a rocket + when he suddenly fell in love. He happened to be shooting a high and very + headlong weir in a canoe, by way of proving to himself that he was alive; + and he soon found himself involved in some doubt about the continuance of + the fact. What was worse, he found he had equally jeopardized a harmless + lady alone in a rowing-boat, and one who had provoked death by no + professions of philosophic negation. He apologized in wild gasps through + all his wild wet labours to bring her to the shore, and when he had done + so at last, he seems to have proposed to her on the bank. Anyhow, with the + same impetuosity with which he had nearly murdered her, he completely + married her; and she was the lady in green to whom I had recently said + `good-night.’ + </p> + <p> + “They had settled down in these high narrow houses near Highbury. + Perhaps, indeed, that is hardly the word. One could strictly say that + Smith was married, that he was very happily married, that he not only did + not care for any woman but his wife, but did not seem to care for any + place but his home; but perhaps one could hardly say that he had settled + down. `I am a very domestic fellow,’ he explained with gravity, `and + have often come in through a broken window rather than be late for tea.’ + </p> + <p> + “He lashed his soul with laughter to prevent it falling asleep. He + lost his wife a series of excellent servants by knocking at the door as a + total stranger, and asking if Mr. Smith lived there and what kind of a man + he was. The London general servant is not used to the master indulging in + such transcendental ironies. And it was found impossible to explain to her + that he did it in order to feel the same interest in his own affairs that + he always felt in other people’s. + </p> + <p> + “`I know there’s a fellow called Smith,’ he said in his + rather weird way, `living in one of the tall houses in this terrace. I + know he is really happy, and yet I can never catch him at it.’ + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes he would, of a sudden, treat his wife with a kind of + paralyzed politeness, like a young stranger struck with love at first + sight. Sometimes he would extend this poetic fear to the very furniture; + would seem to apologize to the chair he sat on, and climb the staircase as + cautiously as a cragsman, to renew in himself the sense of their skeleton + of reality. Every stair is a ladder and every stool a leg, he said. And at + other times he would play the stranger exactly in the opposite sense, and + would enter by another way, so as to feel like a thief and a robber. He + would break and violate his own home, as he had done with me that night. + It was near morning before I could tear myself from this queer confidence + of the Man Who Would Not Die, and as I shook hands with him on the + doorstep the last load of fog was lifting, and rifts of daylight revealed + the stairway of irregular street levels that looked like the end of the + world. + </p> + <p> + “It will be enough for many to say that I had passed a night with a + maniac. What other term, it will be said, could be applied to such a + being? A man who reminds himself that he is married by pretending not to + be married! A man who tries to covet his own goods instead of his neighbor’s! + On this I have but one word to say, and I feel it of my honour to say it, + though no one understands. I believe the maniac was one of those who do + not merely come, but are sent; sent like a great gale upon ships by Him + who made His angels winds and His messengers a flaming fire. This, at + least, I know for certain. Whether such men have laughed or wept, we have + laughed at their laughter as much as at their weeping. Whether they cursed + or blessed the world, they have never fitted it. It is true that men have + shrunk from the sting of a great satirist as if from the sting of an + adder. But it is equally true that men flee from the embrace of a great + optimist as from the embrace of a bear. Nothing brings down more curses + than a real benediction. For the goodness of good things, like the badness + of bad things, is a prodigy past speech; it is to be pictured rather than + spoken. We shall have gone deeper than the deeps of heaven and grown older + than the oldest angels before we feel, even in its first faint vibrations, + the everlasting violence of that double passion with which God hates and + loves the world.—I am, yours faithfully, “Raymond Percy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ‘oly, ‘oly, ‘oly!” said Mr. Moses + Gould. + </p> + <p> + The instant he had spoken all the rest knew they had been in an almost + religious state of submission and assent. Something had bound them + together; something in the sacred tradition of the last two words of the + letter; something also in the touching and boyish embarrassment with which + Inglewood had read them— for he had all the thin-skinned reverence + of the agnostic. Moses Gould was as good a fellow in his way as ever + lived; far kinder to his family than more refined men of pleasure, simple + and steadfast in his admiration, a thoroughly wholesome animal and a + thoroughly genuine character. But wherever there is conflict, crises come + in which any soul, personal or racial, unconsciously turns on the world + the most hateful of its hundred faces. English reverence, Irish mysticism, + American idealism, looked up and saw on the face of Moses a certain smile. + It was that smile of the Cynic Triumphant, which has been the tocsin for + many a cruel riot in Russian villages or mediaeval towns. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ‘oly, ‘oly, ‘oly!” said Moses Gould. + </p> + <p> + Finding that this was not well received, he explained further, exuberance + deepening on his dark exuberant features. + </p> + <p> + “Always fun to see a bloke swallow a wasp when ‘e’s + corfin’ up a fly,” he said pleasantly. “Don’t you + see you’ve bunged up old Smith anyhow. If this parson’s tale’s + O.K.—why, Smith is ‘ot. ‘E’s pretty ‘ot. We + find him elopin’ with Miss Gray (best respects!) in a cab. Well, + what abart this Mrs. Smith the curate talks of, with her blarsted shyness—transmigogrified + into a blighted sharpness? Miss Gray ain’t been very sharp, but I + reckon she’ll be pretty shy.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be a brute,” growled Michael Moon. + </p> + <p> + None could lift their eyes to look at Mary; but Inglewood sent a glance + along the table at Innocent Smith. He was still bowed above his paper + toys, and a wrinkle was on his forehead that might have been worry or + shame. He carefully plucked out one corner of a complicated paper and + tucked it in elsewhere; then the wrinkle vanished and he looked relieved. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III — The Round Road; or, the Desertion Charge + </h2> + <p> + Pym rose with sincere embarrassment; for he was an American, and his + respect for ladies was real, and not at all scientific. + </p> + <p> + “Ignoring,” he said, “the delicate and considerable + knightly protests that have been called forth by my colleague’s + native sense of oration, and apologizing to all for whom our wild search + for truth seems unsuitable to the grand ruins of a feudal land, I still + think my colleague’s question by no means devoid of rel’vancy. + The last charge against the accused was one of burglary; the next charge + on the paper is of bigamy and desertion. It does without question appear + that the defence, in aspiring to rebut this last charge, have really + admitted the next. Either Innocent Smith is still under a charge of + attempted burglary, or else that is exploded; but he is pretty well fixed + for attempted bigamy. It all depends on what view we take of the alleged + letter from Curate Percy. Under these conditions I feel justified in + claiming my right to questions. May I ask how the defence got hold of the + letter from Curate Percy? Did it come direct from the prisoner?” + </p> + <p> + “We have had nothing direct from the prisoner,” said Moon + quietly. “The few documents which the defence guarantees came to us + from another quarter.” + </p> + <p> + “From what quarter?” asked Dr. Pym. + </p> + <p> + “If you insist,” answered Moon, “we had them from Miss + Gray. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Cyrus Pym quite forgot to close his eyes, and, instead, opened + them very wide. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean to say,” he said, “that Miss Gray + was in possession of this document testifying to a previous Mrs. Smith?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” said Inglewood, and sat down. + </p> + <p> + The doctor said something about infatuation in a low and painful voice, + and then with visible difficulty continued his opening remarks. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately the tragic truth revealed by Curate Percy’s + narrative is only too crushingly confirmed by other and shocking documents + in our own possession. Of these the principal and most certain is the + testimony of Innocent Smith’s gardener, who was present at the most + dramatic and eye-opening of his many acts of marital infidelity. Mr. + Gould, the gardener, please.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gould, with his tireless cheerfulness, arose to present the gardener. + That functionary explained that he had served Mr. and Mrs. Innocent Smith + when they had a little house on the edge of Croydon. From the gardener’s + tale, with its many small allusions, Inglewood grew certain he had seen + the place. It was one of those corners of town or country that one does + not forget, for it looked like a frontier. The garden hung very high above + the lane, and its end was steep and sharp, like a fortress. Beyond was a + roll of real country, with a white path sprawling across it, and the + roots, boles, and branches of great gray trees writhing and twisting + against the sky. But as if to assert that the lane itself was suburban, + were sharply relieved against that gray and tossing upland a lamp-post + painted a peculiar yellow-green and a red pillar-box that stood exactly at + the corner. Inglewood was sure of the place; he had passed it twenty times + in his constitutionals on the bicycle; he had always dimly felt it was a + place where something might occur. But it gave him quite a shiver to feel + that the face of his frightful friend or enemy Smith might at any time + have appeared over the garden bushes above. The gardener’s account, + unlike the curate’s, was quite free from decorative adjectives, + however many he may have uttered privately when writing it. He simply said + that on a particular morning Mr. Smith came out and began to play about + with a rake, as he often did. Sometimes he would tickle the nose of his + eldest child (he had two children); sometimes he would hook the rake on to + the branch of a tree, and hoist himself up with horrible gymnastic jerks, + like those of a giant frog in its final agony. Never, apparently, did he + think of putting the rake to any of its proper uses, and the gardener, in + consequence, treated his actions with coldness and brevity. But the + gardener was certain that on one particular morning in October he (the + gardener) had come round the corner of the house carrying the hose, had + seen Mr. Smith standing on the lawn in a striped red and white jacket + (which might have been his smoking-jacket, but was quite as like a part of + his pyjamas), and had heard him then and there call out to his wife, who + was looking out of the bedroom window on to the garden, these decisive and + very loud expressions— + </p> + <p> + “I won’t stay here any longer. I’ve got another wife and + much better children a long way from here. My other wife’s got + redder hair than yours, and my other garden’s got a much finer + situation; and I’m going off to them.” + </p> + <p> + With these words, apparently, he sent the rake flying far up into the sky, + higher than many could have shot an arrow, and caught it again. Then he + cleared the hedge at a leap and alighted on his feet down in the lane + below, and set off up the road without even a hat. Much of the picture was + doubtless supplied by Inglewood’s accidental memory of the place. He + could see with his mind’s eye that big bare-headed figure with the + ragged rake swaggering up the crooked woodland road, and leaving lamp-post + and pillar-box behind. But the gardener, on his own account, was quite + prepared to swear to the public confession of bigamy, to the temporary + disappearance of the rake in the sky, and the final disappearance of the + man up the road. Moreover, being a local man, he could swear that, beyond + some local rumours that Smith had embarked on the south-eastern coast, + nothing was known of him again. + </p> + <p> + This impression was somewhat curiously clinched by Michael Moon in the few + but clear phrases in which he opened the defence upon the third charge. So + far from denying that Smith had fled from Croydon and disappeared on the + Continent, he seemed prepared to prove all this on his own account. + “I hope you are not so insular,” he said, “that you will + not respect the word of a French innkeeper as much as that of an English + gardener. By Mr. Inglewood’s favour we will hear the French + innkeeper.” + </p> + <p> + Before the company had decided the delicate point Inglewood was already + reading the account in question. It was in French. It seemed to them to + run something like this:— + </p> + <p> + “Sir,—Yes; I am Durobin of Durobin’s Cafe on the + sea-front at Gras, rather north of Dunquerque. I am willing to write all I + know of the stranger out of the sea. + </p> + <p> + “I have no sympathy with eccentrics or poets. A man of sense looks + for beauty in things deliberately intended to be beautiful, such as a trim + flower-bed or an ivory statuette. One does not permit beauty to pervade + one’s whole life, just as one does not pave all the roads with ivory + or cover all the fields with geraniums. My faith, but we should miss the + onions! + </p> + <p> + “But whether I read things backwards through my memory, or whether + there are indeed atmospheres of psychology which the eye of science cannot + as yet pierce, it is the humiliating fact that on that particular evening + I felt like a poet—like any little rascal of a poet who drinks + absinthe in the mad Montmartre. + </p> + <p> + “Positively the sea itself looked like absinthe, green and bitter + and poisonous. I had never known it look so unfamiliar before. In the sky + was that early and stormy darkness that is so depressing to the mind, and + the wind blew shrilly round the little lonely coloured kiosk where they + sell the newspapers, and along the sand-hills by the shore. There I saw a + fishing-boat with a brown sail standing in silently from the sea. It was + already quite close, and out of it clambered a man of monstrous stature, + who came wading to shore with the water not up to his knees, though it + would have reached the hips of many men. He leaned on a long rake or pole, + which looked like a trident, and made him look like a Triton. Wet as he + was, and with strips of seaweed clinging to him, he walked across to my + cafe, and, sitting down at a table outside, asked for cherry brandy, a + liqueur which I keep, but is seldom demanded. Then the monster, with great + politeness, invited me to partake of a vermouth before my dinner, and we + fell into conversation. He had apparently crossed from Kent by a small + boat got at a private bargain because of some odd fancy he had for passing + promptly in an easterly direction, and not waiting for any of the official + boats. He was, he somewhat vaguely explained, looking for a house. When I + naturally asked him where the house was, he answered that he did not know; + it was on an island; it was somewhere to the east; or, as he expressed it + with a hazy and yet impatient gesture, `over there.’ + </p> + <p> + “I asked him how, if he did not know the place, he would know it + when he saw it. Here he suddenly ceased to be hazy, and became alarmingly + minute. He gave a description of the house detailed enough for an + auctioneer. I have forgotten nearly all the details except the last two, + which were that the lamp-post was painted green, and that there was a red + pillar-box at the corner. + </p> + <p> + “`A red pillar-box!’ I cried in astonishment. `Why, the place + must be in England!’ + </p> + <p> + “`I had forgotten,’ he said, nodding heavily. `That is the + island’s name.’ + </p> + <p> + “`But, ~nom du nom~,’ I cried testily, `you’ve just come + from England, my boy.’ + </p> + <p> + “`They SAID it was England,’ said my imbecile, + conspiratorially. `They said it was Kent. But Kentish men are such liars + one can’t believe anything they say.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Monsieur,’ I said, `you must pardon me. I am elderly, and + the ~fumisteries~ of the young men are beyond me. I go by common sense, + or, at the largest, by that extension of applied common sense called + science.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Science!’ cried the stranger. `There is only one good thing + science ever discovered—a good thing, good tidings of great joy— + that the world is round.’ + </p> + <p> + “I told him with civility that his words conveyed no impression to + my intelligence. `I mean,’ he said, `that going right round the + world is the shortest way to where you are already.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Is it not even shorter,’ I asked, `to stop where you are?’ + </p> + <p> + “`No, no, no!’ he cried emphatically. `That way is long and + very weary. At the end of the world, at the back of the dawn, I shall find + the wife I really married and the house that is really mine. And that + house will have a greener lamp-post and a redder pillar-box. Do you,’ + he asked with a sudden intensity, `do you never want to rush out of your + house in order to find it?’ + </p> + <p> + “`No, I think not,’ I replied; `reason tells a man from the + first to adapt his desires to the probable supply of life. I remain here, + content to fulfil the life of man. All my interests are here, and most of + my friends, and—’ + </p> + <p> + “`And yet,’ he cried, starting to his almost terrific height, + `you made the French Revolution!’ + </p> + <p> + “`Pardon me,’ I said, `I am not quite so elderly. A relative + perhaps.’ + </p> + <p> + “`I mean your sort did!’ exclaimed this personage. `Yes, your + damned smug, settled, sensible sort made the French Revolution. Oh! I know + some say it was no good, and you’re just back where you were before. + Why, blast it all, that’s just where we all want to be—back + where we were before! That is revolution—going right round! Every + revolution, like a repentance, is a return.’ + </p> + <p> + “He was so excited that I waited till he had taken his seat again, + and then said something indifferent and soothing; but he struck the tiny + table with his colossal fist and went on. + </p> + <p> + “`I am going to have a revolution, not a French Revolution, but an + English Revolution. God has given to each tribe its own type of mutiny. + The Frenchmen march against the citadel of the city together; the + Englishman marches to the outskirts of the city, and alone. But I am going + to turn the world upside down, too. I’m going to turn myself upside + down. I’m going to walk upside down in the cursed upsidedownland of + the Antipodes, where trees and men hang head downward in the sky. But my + revolution, like yours, like the earth’s, will end up in the holy, + happy place— the celestial, incredible place—the place where + we were before.’ + </p> + <p> + “With these remarks, which can scarcely be reconciled with reason, + he leapt from the seat and strode away into the twilight, swinging his + pole and leaving behind him an excessive payment, which also pointed to + some loss of mental balance. This is all I know of the episode of the man + landed from the fishing-boat, and I hope it may serve the interests of + justice.— Accept, Sir, the assurances of the very high + consideration, with which I have the honour to be your obedient servant, + “Jules Durobin.” + </p> + <p> + “The next document in our dossier,” continued Inglewood, + “comes from the town of Crazok, in the central plains of Russia, and + runs as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Sir,—My name is Paul Nickolaiovitch: I am the stationmaster + at the station near Crazok. The great trains go by across the plains + taking people to China, but very few people get down at the platform where + I have to watch. This makes my life rather lonely, and I am thrown back + much upon the books I have. But I cannot discuss these very much with my + neighbours, for enlightened ideas have not spread in this part of Russia + so much as in other parts. Many of the peasants round here have never + heard of Bernard Shaw. + </p> + <p> + “I am a Liberal, and do my best to spread Liberal ideas; but since + the failure of the revolution this has been even more difficult. The + revolutionists committed many acts contrary to the pure principles of + humanitarianism, with which indeed, owing to the scarcity of books, they + were ill acquainted. I did not approve of these cruel acts, though + provoked by the tyranny of the government; but now there is a tendency to + reproach all Intelligents with the memory of them. This is very + unfortunate for Intelligents. + </p> + <p> + “It was when the railway strike was almost over, and a few trains + came through at long intervals, that I stood one day watching a train that + had come in. Only one person got out of the train, far away up at the + other end of it, for it was a very long train. It was evening, with a + cold, greenish sky. A little snow had fallen, but not enough to whiten the + plain, which stretched away a sort of sad purple in all directions, save + where the flat tops of some distant tablelands caught the evening light + like lakes. As the solitary man came stamping along on the thin snow by + the train he grew larger and larger; I thought I had never seen so large a + man. But he looked even taller than he was, I think, because his shoulders + were very big and his head comparatively little. From the big shoulders + hung a tattered old jacket, striped dull red and dirty white, very thin + for the winter, and one hand rested on a huge pole such as peasants rake + in weeds with to burn them. + </p> + <p> + “Before he had traversed the full length of the train he was + entangled in one of those knots of rowdies that were the embers of the + extinct revolution, though they mostly disgraced themselves upon the + government side. I was just moving to his assistance, when he whirled up + his rake and laid out right and left with such energy that he came through + them without scathe and strode right up to me, leaving them staggered and + really astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Yet when he reached me, after so abrupt an assertion of his aim, he + could only say rather dubiously in French that he wanted a house. + </p> + <p> + “`There are not many houses to be had round here,’ I answered + in the same language, `the district has been very disturbed. A revolution, + as you know, has recently been suppressed. Any further building—’ + </p> + <p> + “`Oh! I don’t mean that,’ he cried; `I mean a real house—a + live house. It really is a live house, for it runs away from me.’ + </p> + <p> + “`I am ashamed to say that something in his phrase or gesture moved + me profoundly. We Russians are brought up in an atmosphere of folk-lore, + and its unfortunate effects can still be seen in the bright colours of the + children’s dolls and of the ikons. For an instant the idea of a + house running away from a man gave me pleasure, for the enlightenment of + man moves slowly. + </p> + <p> + “`Have you no other house of your own?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “`I have left it,’ he said very sadly. `It was not the house + that grew dull, but I that grew dull in it. My wife was better than all + women, and yet I could not feel it.’ + </p> + <p> + “`And so,’ I said with sympathy, `you walked straight out of + the front door, like a masculine Nora.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Nora?’ he inquired politely, apparently supposing it to be a + Russian word. + </p> + <p> + “`I mean Nora in “The Doll’s House,”’ I + replied. + </p> + <p> + “At this he looked very much astonished, and I knew he was an + Englishman; for Englishmen always think that Russians study nothing but + `ukases.’ + </p> + <p> + “`"The Doll’s House”?’ he cried vehemently; `why, + that is just where Ibsen was so wrong! Why, the whole aim of a house is to + be a doll’s house. Don’t you remember, when you were a child, + how those little windows WERE windows, while the big windows weren’t. + A child has a doll’s house, and shrieks when a front door opens + inwards. A banker has a real house, yet how numerous are the bankers who + fail to emit the faintest shriek when their real front doors open inwards.’ + </p> + <p> + “Something from the folk-lore of my infancy still kept me foolishly + silent; and before I could speak, the Englishman had leaned over and was + saying in a sort of loud whisper, `I have found out how to make a big + thing small. I have found out how to turn a house into a doll’s + house. Get a long way off it: God lets us turn all things into toys by his + great gift of distance. Once let me see my old brick house standing up + quite little against the horizon, and I shall want to go back to it again. + I shall see the funny little toy lamp-post painted green against the gate, + and all the dear little people like dolls looking out of the window. For + the windows really open in my doll’s house.’ + </p> + <p> + “`But why?’ I asked, `should you wish to return to that + particular doll’s house? Having taken, like Nora, the bold step + against convention, having made yourself in the conventional sense + disreputable, having dared to be free, why should you not take advantage + of your freedom? As the greatest modern writers have pointed out, what you + called your marriage was only your mood. You have a right to leave it all + behind, like the clippings of your hair or the parings of your nails. + Having once escaped, you have the world before you. Though the words may + seem strange to you, you are free in Russia.’ + </p> + <p> + “He sat with his dreamy eyes on the dark circles of the plains, + where the only moving thing was the long and labouring trail of smoke out + of the railway engine, violet in tint, volcanic in outline, the one hot + and heavy cloud of that cold clear evening of pale green. + </p> + <p> + “`Yes,’ he said with a huge sigh, `I am free in Russia. You + are right. I could really walk into that town over there and have love all + over again, and perhaps marry some beautiful woman and begin again, and + nobody could ever find me. Yes, you have certainly convinced me of + something.’ + </p> + <p> + “His tone was so queer and mystical that I felt impelled to ask him + what he meant, and of what exactly I had convinced him. + </p> + <p> + “`You have convinced me,’ he said with the same dreamy eye, + `why it is really wicked and dangerous for a man to run away from his + wife.’ + </p> + <p> + “`And why is it dangerous?’ I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “`Why, because nobody can find him,’ answered this odd person, + `and we all want to be found.’ + </p> + <p> + “`The most original modern thinkers,’ I remarked, `Ibsen, + Gorki, Nietzsche, Shaw, would all rather say that what we want most is to + be lost: to find ourselves in untrodden paths, and to do unprecedented + things: to break with the past and belong to the future.’ + </p> + <p> + “He rose to his whole height somewhat sleepily, and looked round on + what was, I confess, a somewhat desolate scene—the dark purple + plains, the neglected railroad, the few ragged knots of malcontents. `I + shall not find the house here,’ he said. `It is still eastward— + further and further eastward.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then he turned upon me with something like fury, and struck the + foot of his pole upon the frozen earth. + </p> + <p> + “`And if I do go back to my country,’ he cried, `I may be + locked up in a madhouse before I reach my own house. I have been a bit + unconventional in my time! Why, Nietzsche stood in a row of ramrods in the + silly old Prussian army, and Shaw takes temperance beverages in the + suburbs; but the things I do are unprecedented things. This round road I + am treading is an untrodden path. I do believe in breaking out; I am a + revolutionist. But don’t you see that all these real leaps and + destructions and escapes are only attempts to get back to Eden— to + something we have had, to something we at least have heard of? Don’t + you see one only breaks the fence or shoots the moon in order to get HOME?’ + </p> + <p> + “`No,’ I answered after due reflection, `I don’t think I + should accept that.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Ah,’ he said with a sort of a sigh, `then you have explained + a second thing to me.’ + </p> + <p> + “`What do you mean?’ I asked; `what thing?’ + </p> + <p> + “`Why your revolution has failed,’ he said; and walking across + quite suddenly to the train he got into it just as it was steaming away at + last. And as I saw the long snaky tail of it disappear along the darkening + flats. + </p> + <p> + “I saw no more of him. But though his views were adverse to the best + advanced thought, he struck me as an interesting person: I should like to + find out if he has produced any literary works.—Yours, etc., “Paul + Nickolaiovitch.” + </p> + <p> + There was something in this odd set of glimpses into foreign lives which + kept the absurd tribunal quieter than it had hitherto been, and it was + again without interruption that Inglewood opened another paper upon his + pile. “The Court will be indulgent,” he said, “if the + next note lacks the special ceremonies of our letter-writing. It is + ceremonious enough in its own way:— + </p> + <p> + “The Celestial Principles are permanent: Greeting.—I am + Wong-Hi, and I tend the temple of all the ancestors of my family in the + forest of Fu. The man that broke through the sky and came to me said that + it must be very dull, but I showed him the wrongness of his thought. I am + indeed in one place, for my uncle took me to this temple when I was a boy, + and in this I shall doubtless die. But if a man remain in one place he + shall see that the place changes. The pagoda of my temple stands up + silently out of all the trees, like a yellow pagoda above many green + pagodas. But the skies are sometimes blue like porcelain, and sometimes + green like jade, and sometimes red like garnet. But the night is always + ebony and always returns, said the Emperor Ho. + </p> + <p> + “The sky-breaker came at evening very suddenly, for I had hardly + seen any stirring in the tops of the green trees over which I look as over + a sea, when I go to the top of the temple at morning. And yet when he + came, it was as if an elephant had strayed from the armies of the great + kings of India. For palms snapped, and bamboos broke, and there came forth + in the sunshine before the temple one taller than the sons of men. + </p> + <p> + “Strips of red and white hung about him like ribbons of a carnival, + and he carried a pole with a row of teeth on it like the teeth of a + dragon. His face was white and discomposed, after the fashion of the + foreigners, so that they look like dead men filled with devils; and he + spoke our speech brokenly. + </p> + <p> + “He said to me, `This is only a temple; I am trying to find a house.’ + And then he told me with indelicate haste that the lamp outside his house + was green, and that there was a red post at the corner of it. + </p> + <p> + “`I have not seen your house nor any houses,’ I answered. `I + dwell in this temple and serve the gods.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Do you believe in the gods?’ he asked with hunger in his + eyes, like the hunger of dogs. And this seemed to me a strange question to + ask, for what should a man do except what men have done? + </p> + <p> + “`My Lord,’ I said, `it must be good for men to hold up their + hands even if the skies are empty. For if there are gods, they will be + pleased, and if there are none, then there are none to be displeased. + Sometimes the skies are gold and sometimes porphyry and sometimes ebony, + but the trees and the temple stand still under it all. So the great + Confucius taught us that if we do always the same things with our hands + and our feet as do the wise beasts and birds, with our heads we may think + many things: yes, my Lord, and doubt many things. So long as men offer + rice at the right season, and kindle lanterns at the right hour, it + matters little whether there be gods or no. For these things are not to + appease gods, but to appease men.’ + </p> + <p> + “He came yet closer to me, so that he seemed enormous; yet his look + was very gentle. + </p> + <p> + “`Break your temple,’ he said, `and your gods will be freed.’ + </p> + <p> + “And I, smiling at his simplicity, answered: `And so, if there be no + gods, I shall have nothing but a broken temple.’ + </p> + <p> + “And at this, that giant from whom the light of reason was withheld + threw out his mighty arms and asked me to forgive him. And when I asked + him for what he should be forgiven he answered: `For being right.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Your idols and emperors are so old and wise and satisfying,’ + he cried, `it is a shame that they should be wrong. We are so vulgar and + violent, we have done you so many iniquities— it is a shame we + should be right after all.’ + </p> + <p> + “And I, still enduring his harmlessness, asked him why he thought + that he and his people were right. + </p> + <p> + “And he answered: `We are right because we are bound where men + should be bound, and free where men should be free. We are right because + we doubt and destroy laws and customs— but we do not doubt our own + right to destroy them. For you live by customs, but we live by creeds. + Behold me! In my country I am called Smip. My country is abandoned, my + name is defiled, because I pursue around the world what really belongs to + me. You are steadfast as the trees because you do not believe. I am as + fickle as the tempest because I do believe. I do believe in my own house, + which I shall find again. And at the last remaineth the green lantern and + the red post.’ + </p> + <p> + “I said to him: `At the last remaineth only wisdom.’ + </p> + <p> + “But even as I said the word he uttered a horrible shout, and + rushing forward disappeared among the trees. I have not seen this man + again nor any other man. The virtues of the wise are of fine brass. + “Wong-Hi.” + </p> + <p> + “The next letter I have to read,” proceeded Arthur Inglewood, + “will probably make clear the nature of our client’s curious + but innocent experiment. It is dated from a mountain village in + California, and runs as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Sir,—A person answering to the rather extraordinary + description required certainly went, some time ago, over the high pass of + the Sierras on which I live and of which I am probably the sole stationary + inhabitant. I keep a rudimentary tavern, rather ruder than a hut, on the + very top of this specially steep and threatening pass. My name is Louis + Hara, and the very name may puzzle you about my nationality. Well, it + puzzles me a great deal. When one has been for fifteen years without + society it is hard to have patriotism; and where there is not even a + hamlet it is difficult to invent a nation. My father was an Irishman of + the fiercest and most free-shooting of the old Californian kind. My mother + was a Spaniard, proud of descent from the old Spanish families round San + Francisco, yet accused for all that of some admixture of Red Indian blood. + I was well educated and fond of music and books. But, like many other + hybrids, I was too good or too bad for the world; and after attempting + many things I was glad enough to get a sufficient though a lonely living + in this little cabaret in the mountains. In my solitude I fell into many + of the ways of a savage. Like an Eskimo, I was shapeless in winter; like a + Red Indian, I wore in hot summers nothing but a pair of leather trousers, + with a great straw hat as big as a parasol to defend me from the sun. I + had a bowie knife at my belt and a long gun under my arm; and I dare say I + produced a pretty wild impression on the few peaceable travellers that + could climb up to my place. But I promise you I never looked as mad as + that man did. Compared with him I was Fifth Avenue. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say that living under the very top of the Sierras has an odd + effect on the mind; one tends to think of those lonely rocks not as peaks + coming to a point, but rather as pillars holding up heaven itself. + Straight cliffs sail up and away beyond the hope of the eagles; cliffs so + tall that they seem to attract the stars and collect them as sea-crags + collect a mere glitter of phosphorous. These terraces and towers of rock + do not, like smaller crests, seem to be the end of the world. Rather they + seem to be its awful beginning: its huge foundations. We could almost + fancy the mountain branching out above us like a tree of stone, and + carrying all those cosmic lights like a candelabrum. For just as the peaks + failed us, soaring impossibly far, so the stars crowded us (as it seemed), + coming impossibly near. The spheres burst about us more like thunderbolts + hurled at the earth than planets circling placidly about it. + </p> + <p> + “All this may have driven me mad; I am not sure. I know there is one + angle of the road down the pass where the rock leans out a little, and on + windy nights I seem to hear it clashing overhead with other rocks— + yes, city against city and citadel against citadel, far up into the night. + It was on such an evening that the strange man struggled up the pass. + Broadly speaking, only strange men did struggle up the pass. But I had + never seen one like this one before. + </p> + <p> + “He carried (I cannot conceive why) a long, dilapidated garden rake, + all bearded and bedraggled with grasses, so that it looked like the ensign + of some old barbarian tribe. His hair, which was as long and rank as the + grass, hung down below his huge shoulders; and such clothes as clung about + him were rags and tongues of red and yellow, so that he had the air of + being dressed like an Indian in feathers or autumn leaves. The rake or + pitchfork, or whatever it was, he used sometimes as an alpenstock, + sometimes (I was told) as a weapon. I do not know why he should have used + it as a weapon, for he had, and afterwards showed me, an excellent + six-shooter in his pocket. `But THAT,’ he said, `I use only for + peaceful purposes.’ I have no notion what he meant. + </p> + <p> + “He sat down on the rough bench outside my inn and drank some wine + from the vineyards below, sighing with ecstasy over it like one who had + travelled long among alien, cruel things and found at last something that + he knew. Then he sat staring rather foolishly at the rude lantern of lead + and coloured glass that hangs over my door. It is old, but of no value; my + grandmother gave it to me long ago: she was devout, and it happens that + the glass is painted with a crude picture of Bethlehem and the Wise Men + and the Star. He seemed so mesmerized with the transparent glow of Our + Lady’s blue gown and the big gold star behind, that he led me also + to look at the thing, which I had not done for fourteen years. + </p> + <p> + “Then he slowly withdrew his eyes from this and looked out eastward + where the road fell away below us. The sunset sky was a vault of rich + velvet, fading away into mauve and silver round the edges of the dark + mountain amphitheatre; and between us and the ravine below rose up out of + the deeps and went up into the heights the straight solitary rock we call + Green Finger. Of a queer volcanic colour, and wrinkled all over with what + looks undecipherable writing, it hung there like a Babylonian pillar or + needle. + </p> + <p> + “The man silently stretched out his rake in that direction, and + before he spoke I knew what he meant. Beyond the great green rock in the + purple sky hung a single star. + </p> + <p> + “`A star in the east,’ he said in a strange hoarse voice like + one of our ancient eagles’. `The wise men followed the star and + found the house. But if I followed the star, should I find the house?’ + </p> + <p> + “`It depends perhaps,’ I said, smiling, `on whether you are a + wise man.’ I refrained from adding that he certainly didn’t + look it. + </p> + <p> + “`You may judge for yourself,’ he answered. `I am a man who + left his own house because he could no longer bear to be away from it.’ + </p> + <p> + “`It certainly sounds paradoxical,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “`I heard my wife and children talking and saw them moving about the + room,’ he continued, `and all the time I knew they were walking and + talking in another house thousands of miles away, under the light of + different skies, and beyond the series of the seas. I loved them with a + devouring love, because they seemed not only distant but unattainable. + Never did human creatures seem so dear and so desirable: but I seemed like + a cold ghost; therefore I cast off their dust from my feet for a + testimony. Nay, I did more. I spurned the world under my feet so that it + swung full circle like a treadmill.’ + </p> + <p> + “`Do you really mean,’ I cried, `that you have come right + round the world? Your speech is English, yet you are coming from the west.’ + </p> + <p> + “`My pilgrimage is not yet accomplished,’ he replied sadly. `I + have become a pilgrim to cure myself of being an exile.’ + </p> + <p> + “Something in the word `pilgrim’ awoke down in the roots of my + ruinous experience memories of what my fathers had felt about the world, + and of something from whence I came. I looked again at the little pictured + lantern at which I had not looked for fourteen years. + </p> + <p> + “`My grandmother,’ I said in a low tone, `would have said that + we were all in exile, and that no earthly house could cure the holy + home-sickness that forbids us rest.’ + </p> + <p> + “He was silent a long while, and watched a single eagle drift out + beyond the Green Finger into the darkening void. + </p> + <p> + “Then he said, `I think your grandmother was right,’ and stood + up leaning on his grassy pole. `I think that must be the reason,’ he + said—`the secret of this life of man, so ecstatic and so unappeased. + But I think there is more to be said. I think God has given us the love of + special places, of a hearth and of a native land, for a good reason.’ + </p> + <p> + “`I dare say,’ I said. `What reason?’ + </p> + <p> + “`Because otherwise,’ he said, pointing his pole out at the + sky and the abyss, `we might worship that.’ + </p> + <p> + “`What do you mean?’ I demanded. + </p> + <p> + “`Eternity,’ he said in his harsh voice, `the largest of the + idols— the mightiest of the rivals of God.’ + </p> + <p> + “`You mean pantheism and infinity and all that,’ I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “`I mean,’ he said with increasing vehemence, `that if there + be a house for me in heaven it will either have a green lamp-post and a + hedge, or something quite as positive and personal as a green lamp-post + and a hedge. I mean that God bade me love one spot and serve it, and do + all things however wild in praise of it, so that this one spot might be a + witness against all the infinities and the sophistries, that Paradise is + somewhere and not anywhere, is something and not anything. And I would not + be so very much surprised if the house in heaven had a real green + lamp-post after all.’ + </p> + <p> + “With which he shouldered his pole and went striding down the + perilous paths below, and left me alone with the eagles. But since he went + a fever of homelessness will often shake me. I am troubled by rainy + meadows and mud cabins that I have never seen; and I wonder whether + America will endure.— Yours faithfully, Louis Hara.” + </p> + <p> + After a short silence Inglewood said: “And, finally, we desire to + put in as evidence the following document:— + </p> + <p> + “This is to say that I am Ruth Davis, and have been housemaid to + Mrs. I. Smith at `The Laurels’ in Croydon for the last six months. + When I came the lady was alone, with two children; she was not a widow, + but her husband was away. She was left with plenty of money and did not + seem disturbed about him, though she often hoped he would be back soon. + She said he was rather eccentric and a little change did him good. One + evening last week I was bringing the tea-things out on to the lawn when I + nearly dropped them. The end of a long rake was suddenly stuck over the + hedge, and planted like a jumping-pole; and over the hedge, just like a + monkey on a stick, came a huge, horrible man, all hairy and ragged like + Robinson Crusoe. I screamed out, but my mistress didn’t even get out + of her chair, but smiled and said he wanted shaving. Then he sat down + quite calmly at the garden table and took a cup of tea, and then I + realized that this must be Mr. Smith himself. He has stopped here ever + since and does not really give much trouble, though I sometimes fancy he + is a little weak in his head. “Ruth Davis. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—I forgot to say that he looked round at the garden and + said, very loud and strong: `Oh, what a lovely place you’ve got;’ + just as if he’d never seen it before.” + </p> + <p> + The room had been growing dark and drowsy; the afternoon sun sent one + heavy shaft of powdered gold across it, which fell with an intangible + solemnity upon the empty seat of Mary Gray, for the younger women had left + the court before the more recent of the investigations. Mrs. Duke was + still asleep, and Innocent Smith, looking like a large hunchback in the + twilight, was bending closer and closer to his paper toys. But the five + men really engaged in the controversy, and concerned not to convince the + tribunal but to convince each other, still sat round the table like the + Committee of Public Safety. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Moses Gould banged one big scientific book on top of another, + cocked his little legs up against the table, tipped his chair backwards so + far as to be in direct danger of falling over, emitted a startling and + prolonged whistle like a steam engine, and asserted that it was all his + eye. + </p> + <p> + When asked by Moon what was all his eye, he banged down behind the books + again and answered with considerable excitement, throwing his papers + about. “All those fairy-tales you’ve been reading out,” + he said. “Oh! don’t talk to me! I ain’t littery and + that, but I know fairy-tales when I hear ‘em. I got a bit stumped in + some of the philosophical bits and felt inclined to go out for a B. and S. + But we’re living in West ‘Ampstead and not in ‘Ell; and + the long and the short of it is that some things ‘appen and some + things don’t ‘appen. Those are the things that don’t + ‘appen.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” said Moon gravely, “that we quite clearly + explained—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, old chap, you quite clearly explained,” assented Mr. + Gould with extraordinary volubility. “You’d explain an + elephant off the doorstep, you would. I ain’t a clever chap like + you; but I ain’t a born natural, Michael Moon, and when there’s + an elephant on my doorstep I don’t listen to no explanations. `It’s + got a trunk,’ I says.—`My trunk,’ you says: `I’m + fond of travellin’, and a change does me good.’—`But the + blasted thing’s got tusks,’ I says.—`Don’t look a + gift ‘orse in the mouth,’ you says, `but thank the goodness + and the graice that on your birth ‘as smiled.’—`But it’s + nearly as big as the ‘ouse,’ I says.—`That’s the + bloomin’ perspective,’ you says, `and the sacred magic of + distance.’—`Why, the elephant’s trumpetin’ like + the Day of Judgement,’ I says.—`That’s your own + conscience a-talking to you, Moses Gould,’ you says in a grive and + tender voice. Well, I ‘ave got a conscience as much as you. I don’t + believe most of the things they tell you in church on Sundays; and I don’t + believe these ‘ere things any more because you goes on about ‘em + as if you was in church. I believe an elephant’s a great big ugly + dingerous beast— and I believe Smith’s another.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say,” asked Inglewood, “that you still + doubt the evidence of exculpation we have brought forward?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do still doubt it,” said Gould warmly. “It’s + all a bit too far-fetched, and some of it a bit too far off. ‘Ow can we + test all those tales? ‘Ow can we drop in and buy the `Pink ‘Un’ + at the railway station at Kosky Wosky or whatever it was? ‘Ow can we + go and do a gargle at the saloon-bar on top of the Sierra Mountains? But + anybody can go and see Bunting’s boarding-house at Worthing.” + </p> + <p> + Moon regarded him with an expression of real or assumed surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Any one,” continued Gould, “can call on Mr. Trip.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a comforting thought,” replied Michael with restraint; + “but why should any one call on Mr. Trip?” + </p> + <p> + “For just exactly the sime reason,” cried the excited Moses, + hammering on the table with both hands, “for just exactly the sime + reason that he should communicate with Messrs. ‘Anbury and Bootle of + Paternoster Row and with Miss Gridley’s ‘igh class Academy at + ‘Endon, and with old Lady Bullingdon who lives at Penge.” + </p> + <p> + “Again, to go at once to the moral roots of life,” said + Michael, “why is it among the duties of man to communicate with old + Lady Bullingdon who lives at Penge?” + </p> + <p> + “It ain’t one of the duties of man,” said Gould, “nor + one of his pleasures, either, I can tell you. She takes the crumpet, does + Lady Bullingdon at Penge. But it’s one of the duties of a prosecutor + pursuin’ the innocent, blameless butterfly career of your friend + Smith, and it’s the sime with all the others I mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + “But why do you bring in these people here?” asked Inglewood. + </p> + <p> + “Why! Because we’ve got proof enough to sink a steamboat,” + roared Moses; “because I’ve got the papers in my very ‘and; + because your precious Innocent is a blackguard and ‘ome smasher, and + these are the ‘omes he’s smashed. I don’t set up for a + ‘oly man; but I wouldn’t ‘ave all those poor girls on my + conscience for something. And I think a chap that’s capable of + deserting and perhaps killing ‘em all is about capable of cracking a + crib or shootin’ an old schoolmaster—so I don’t care + much about the other yarns one way or another.” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Dr. Cyrus Pym with a refined cough, “that + we are approaching this matter rather irregularly. This is really the + fourth charge on the charge sheet, and perhaps I had better put it before + you in an ordered and scientific manner.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing but a faint groan from Michael broke the silence of the darkening + room. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV — The Wild Weddings; or, the Polygamy Charge + </h2> + <p> + “A modern man,” said Dr. Cyrus Pym, “must, if he be + thoughtful, approach the problem of marriage with some caution. Marriage + is a stage—doubtless a suitable stage—in the long advance of + mankind towards a goal which we cannot as yet conceive; which we are not, + perhaps, as yet fitted even to desire. What, gentlemen, is the ethical + position of marriage? Have we outlived it?” + </p> + <p> + “Outlived it?” broke out Moon; “why, nobody’s ever + survived it! Look at all the people married since Adam and Eve—and + all as dead as mutton.” + </p> + <p> + “This is no doubt an inter-pellation joc’lar in its character,” + said Dr. Pym frigidly. “I cannot tell what may be Mr. Moon’s + matured and ethical view of marriage—” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell,” said Michael savagely, out of the gloom. “Marriage + is a duel to the death, which no man of honour should decline.” + </p> + <p> + “Michael,” said Arthur Inglewood in a low voice, “you + MUST keep quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Moon,” said Pym with exquisite good temper, “probably + regards the institution in a more antiquated manner. Probably he would + make it stringent and uniform. He would treat divorce in some great soul + of steel—the divorce of a Julius Caesar or of a Salt Ring Robinson— + exactly as he would treat some no-account tramp or labourer who scoots + from his wife. Science has views broader and more humane. Just as murder + for the scientist is a thirst for absolute destruction, just as theft for + the scientist is a hunger for monotonous acquisition, so polygamy for the + scientist is an extreme development of the instinct for variety. A man + thus afflicted is incapable of constancy. Doubtless there is a physical + cause for this flitting from flower to flower— as there is, + doubtless, for the intermittent groaning which appears to afflict Mr. Moon + at the present moment. Our own world-scorning Winterbottom has even dared + to say, `For a certain rare and fine physical type polygamy is but the + realization of the variety of females, as comradeship is the realization + of the variety of males.’ In any case, the type that tends to + variety is recognized by all authoritative inquirers. Such a type, if the + widower of a negress, does in many ascertained cases espouse ~en seconde + noces~ an albino; such a type, when freed from the gigantic embraces of a + female Patagonian, will often evolve from its own imaginative instinct the + consoling figure of an Eskimo. To such a type there can be no doubt that + the prisoner belongs. If blind doom and unbearable temptation constitute + any slight excuse for a man, there is no doubt that he has these excuses. + </p> + <p> + “Earlier in the inquiry the defence showed real chivalric ideality + in admitting half of our story without further dispute. We should like to + acknowledge and imitate so eminently large-hearted a style by conceding + also that the story told by Curate Percy about the canoe, the weir, and + the young wife seems to be substantially true. Apparently Smith did marry + a young woman he had nearly run down in a boat; it only remains to be + considered whether it would not have been kinder of him to have murdered + her instead of marrying her. In confirmation of this fact I can now + con-cede to the defence an unquestionable record of such a marriage.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he handed across to Michael a cutting from the “Maidenhead + Gazette” which distinctly recorded the marriage of the daughter of a + “coach,” a tutor well known in the place, to Mr. Innocent + Smith, late of Brakespeare College, Cambridge. + </p> + <p> + When Dr. Pym resumed it was realized that his face had grown at once both + tragic and triumphant. + </p> + <p> + “I pause upon this pre-liminary fact,” he said seriously, + “because this fact alone would give us the victory, were we aspiring + after victory and not after truth. As far as the personal and domestic + problem holds us, that problem is solved. Dr. Warner and I entered this + house at an instant of highly emotional diff’culty. England’s + Warner has entered many houses to save human kind from sickness; this time + he entered to save an innocent lady from a walking pestilence. Smith was + just about to carry away a young girl from this house; his cab and bag + were at the very door. He had told her she was going to await the marriage + license at the house of his aunt. That aunt,” continued Cyrus Pym, + his face darkening grandly—“that visionary aunt had been the + dancing will-o’-the-wisp who had led many a high-souled maiden to + her doom. Into how many virginal ears has he whispered that holy word? + When he said `aunt’ there glowed about her all the merriment and + high morality of the Anglo-Saxon home. Kettles began to hum, pussy cats to + purr, in that very wild cab that was being driven to destruction.” + </p> + <p> + Inglewood looked up, to find, to his astonishment (as many another denizen + of the eastern hemisphere has found), that the American was not only + perfectly serious, but was really eloquent and affecting— when the + difference of the hemispheres was adjusted. + </p> + <p> + “It is therefore atrociously evident that the man Smith has at least + represented himself to one innocent female of this house as an eligible + bachelor, being, in fact, a married man. I agree with my colleague, Mr. + Gould, that no other crime could approximate to this. As to whether what + our ancestors called purity has any ultimate ethical value indeed, science + hesitates with a high, proud hesitation. But what hesitation can there be + about the baseness of a citizen who ventures, by brutal experiments upon + living females, to anticipate the verdict of science on such a point? + </p> + <p> + “The woman mentioned by Curate Percy as living with Smith in + Highbury may or may not be the same as the lady he married in Maidenhead. + If one short sweet spell of constancy and heart repose interrupted the + plunging torrent of his profligate life, we will not deprive him of that + long past possibility. After that conjectural date, alas, he seems to have + plunged deeper and deeper into the shaking quagmires of infidelity and + shame.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Pym closed his eyes, but the unfortunate fact that there was no more + light left this familiar signal without its full and proper moral effect. + After a pause, which almost partook of the character of prayer, he + continued. + </p> + <p> + “The first instance of the accused’s repeated and irregular + nuptials,” he exclaimed, “comes from Lady Bullingdon, who + expresses herself with the high haughtiness which must be excused in those + who look out upon all mankind from the turrets of a Norman and ancestral + keep. The communication she has sent to us runs as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Lady Bullingdon recalls the painful incident to which reference is + made, and has no desire to deal with it in detail. The girl Polly Green + was a perfectly adequate dressmaker, and lived in the village for about + two years. Her unattached condition was bad for her as well as for the + general morality of the village. Lady Bullingdon, therefore, allowed it to + be understood that she favoured the marriage of the young woman. The + villagers, naturally wishing to oblige Lady Bullingdon, came forward in + several cases; and all would have been well had it not been for the + deplorable eccentricity or depravity of the girl Green herself. Lady + Bullingdon supposes that where there is a village there must be a village + idiot, and in her village, it seems, there was one of these wretched + creatures. Lady Bullingdon only saw him once, and she is quite aware that + it is really difficult to distinguish between actual idiots and the + ordinary heavy type of the rural lower classes. She noticed, however, the + startling smallness of his head in comparison to the rest of his body; + and, indeed, the fact of his having appeared upon election day wearing the + rosette of both the two opposing parties appears to Lady Bullingdon to put + the matter quite beyond doubt. Lady Bullingdon was astounded to learn that + this afflicted being had put himself forward as one of the suitors of the + girl in question. Lady Bullingdon’s nephew interviewed the wretch + upon the point, telling him that he was a `donkey’ to dream of such + a thing, and actually received, along with an imbecile grin, the answer + that donkeys generally go after carrots. But Lady Bullingdon was yet + further amazed to find the unhappy girl inclined to accept this monstrous + proposal, though she was actually asked in marriage by Garth, the + undertaker, a man in a far superior position to her own. Lady Bullingdon + could not, of course, countenance such an arrangement for a moment, and + the two unhappy persons escaped for a clandestine marriage. Lady + Bullingdon cannot exactly recall the man’s name, but thinks it was + Smith. He was always called in the village the Innocent. Later, Lady + Bullingdon believes he murdered Green in a mental outbreak.” + </p> + <p> + “The next communication,” proceeded Pym, “is more + conspicuous for brevity, but I am of the opinion that it will adequately + convey the upshot. It is dated from the offices of Messrs. Hanbury and + Bootle, publishers, and is as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Sir,—Yrs. rcd. and conts. noted. Rumour re typewriter + possibly refers to a Miss Blake or similar name, left here nine years ago + to marry an organ-grinder. Case was undoubtedly curious, and attracted + police attention. Girl worked excellently till about Oct. 1907, when + apparently went mad. Record was written at the time, part of which I + enclose.— Yrs., etc., W. Trip. + </p> + <p> + “The fuller statement runs as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “On October 12 a letter was sent from this office to Messrs. Bernard + and Juke, bookbinders. Opened by Mr. Juke, it was found to contain the + following: `Sir, our Mr. Trip will call at 3, as we wish to know whether + it is really decided 00000073bb!!!!!xy.’ To this Mr. Juke, a person + of a playful mind, returned the answer: `Sir, I am in a position to give + it as my most decided opinion that it is not really decided that + 00000073bb!!!!!xy. Yrs., etc., `J. Juke.’ + </p> + <p> + “On receiving this extraordinary reply, our Mr. Trip asked for the + original letter sent from him, and found that the typewriter had indeed + substituted these demented hieroglyphics for the sentences really dictated + to her. Our Mr. Trip interviewed the girl, fearing that she was in an + unbalanced state, and was not much reassured when she merely remarked that + she always went like that when she heard the barrel organ. Becoming yet + more hysterical and extravagant, she made a series of most improbable + statements—as, that she was engaged to the barrel-organ man, that he + was in the habit of serenading her on that instrument, that she was in the + habit of playing back to him upon the typewriter (in the style of King + Richard and Blondel), and that the organ man’s musical ear was so + exquisite and his adoration of herself so ardent that he could detect the + note of the different letters on the machine, and was enraptured by them + as by a melody. To all these statements of course our Mr. Trip and the + rest of us only paid that sort of assent that is paid to persons who must + as quickly as possible be put in the charge of their relations. But on our + conducting the lady downstairs, her story received the most startling and + even exasperating confirmation; for the organ-grinder, an enormous man + with a small head and manifestly a fellow-lunatic, had pushed his barrel + organ in at the office doors like a battering-ram, and was boisterously + demanding his alleged fiancee. When I myself came on the scene he was + flinging his great, ape-like arms about and reciting a poem to her. But we + were used to lunatics coming and reciting poems in our office, and we were + not quite prepared for what followed. The actual verse he uttered began, I + think, + </p> + <p> + `O vivid, inviolate head, Ringed —’ + </p> + <p> + but he never got any further. Mr. Trip made a sharp movement towards him, + and the next moment the giant picked up the poor lady typewriter like a + doll, sat her on top of the organ, ran it with a crash out of the office + doors, and raced away down the street like a flying wheelbarrow. I put the + police upon the matter; but no trace of the amazing pair could be found. I + was sorry myself; for the lady was not only pleasant but unusually + cultivated for her position. As I am leaving the service of Messrs. + Hanbury and Bootle, I put these things in a record and leave it with them. + (Signed) Aubrey Clarke, Publishers’ Reader. + </p> + <p> + “And the last document,” said Dr. Pym complacently, “is + from one of those high-souled women who have in this age introduced your + English girlhood to hockey, the higher mathematics, and every form of + ideality. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Sir (she writes),—I have no objection to telling you the + facts about the absurd incident you mention; though I would ask you to + communicate them with some caution, for such things, however entertaining + in the abstract, are not always auxiliary to the success of a girls’ + school. The truth is this: I wanted some one to deliver a lecture on a + philological or historical question—a lecture which, while + containing solid educational matter, should be a little more popular and + entertaining than usual, as it was the last lecture of the term. I + remembered that a Mr. Smith of Cambridge had written somewhere or other an + amusing essay about his own somewhat ubiquitous name— an essay which + showed considerable knowledge of genealogy and topography. I wrote to him, + asking if he would come and give us a bright address upon English + surnames; and he did. It was very bright, almost too bright. To put the + matter otherwise, by the time that he was halfway through it became + apparent to the other mistresses and myself that the man was totally and + entirely off his head. He began rationally enough by dealing with the two + departments of place names and trade names, and he said (quite rightly, I + dare say) that the loss of all significance in names was an instance of + the deadening of civilization. But then he went on calmly to maintain that + every man who had a place name ought to go to live in that place, and that + every man who had a trade name ought instantly to adopt that trade; that + people named after colours should always dress in those colours, and that + people named after trees or plants (such as Beech or Rose) ought to + surround and decorate themselves with these vegetables. In a slight + discussion that arose afterwards among the elder girls the difficulties of + the proposal were clearly, and even eagerly, pointed out. It was urged, + for instance, by Miss Younghusband that it was substantially impossible + for her to play the part assigned to her; Miss Mann was in a similar + dilemma, from which no modern views on the sexes could apparently + extricate her; and some young ladies, whose surnames happened to be Low, + Coward, and Craven, were quite enthusiastic against the idea. But all this + happened afterwards. What happened at the crucial moment was that the + lecturer produced several horseshoes and a large iron hammer from his bag, + announced his immediate intention of setting up a smithy in the + neighbourhood, and called on every one to rise in the same cause as for a + heroic revolution. The other mistresses and I attempted to stop the + wretched man, but I must confess that by an accident this very + intercession produced the worst explosion of his insanity. He was waving + the hammer, and wildly demanding the names of everybody; and it so + happened that Miss Brown, one of the younger teachers, was wearing a brown + dress—a reddish-brown dress that went quietly enough with the warmer + colour of her hair, as well she knew. She was a nice girl, and nice girls + do know about those things. But when our maniac discovered that we really + had a Miss Brown who WAS brown, his ~idee fixe~ blew up like a powder + magazine, and there, in the presence of all the mistresses and girls, he + publicly proposed to the lady in the red-brown dress. You can imagine the + effect of such a scene at a girls’ school. At least, if you fail to + imagine it, I certainly fail to describe it. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, the anarchy died down in a week or two, and I can think + of it now as a joke. There was only one curious detail, which I will tell + you, as you say your inquiry is vital; but I should desire you to consider + it a little more confidential than the rest. Miss Brown, who was an + excellent girl in every way, did quite suddenly and surreptitiously leave + us only a day or two afterwards. I should never have thought that her head + would be the one to be really turned by so absurd an excitement.—Believe + me, yours faithfully, Ada Gridley. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Pym, with a really convincing simplicity and + seriousness, “that these letters speak for themselves.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Moon rose for the last time in a darkness that gave no hint of whether + his native gravity was mixed with his native irony. + </p> + <p> + “Throughout this inquiry,” he said, “but especially in + this its closing phase, the prosecution has perpetually relied upon one + argument; I mean the fact that no one knows what has become of all the + unhappy women apparently seduced by Smith. There is no sort of proof that + they were murdered, but that implication is perpetually made when the + question is asked as to how they died. Now I am not interested in how they + died, or when they died, or whether they died. But I am interested in + another analogous question—that of how they were born, and when they + were born, and whether they were born. Do not misunderstand me. I do not + dispute the existence of these women, or the veracity of those who have + witnessed to them. I merely remark on the notable fact that only one of + these victims, the Maidenhead girl, is described as having any home or + parents. All the rest are boarders or birds of passage—a guest, a + solitary dressmaker, a bachelor-girl doing typewriting. Lady Bullingdon, + looking from her turrets, which she bought from the Whartons with the old + soap-boiler’s money when she jumped at marrying an unsuccessful + gentleman from Ulster—Lady Bullingdon, looking out from those + turrets, did really see an object which she describes as Green. Mr. Trip, + of Hanbury and Bootle, really did have a typewriter betrothed to Smith. + Miss Gridley, though idealistic, is absolutely honest. She did house, + feed, and teach a young woman whom Smith succeeded in decoying away. We + admit that all these women really lived. But we still ask whether they + were ever born?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, crikey!” said Moses Gould, stifled with amusement. + </p> + <p> + “There could hardly,” interposed Pym with a quiet smile, + “be a better instance of the neglect of true scientific process. The + scientist, when once convinced of the fact of vitality and consciousness, + would infer from these the previous process of generation.” + </p> + <p> + “If these gals,” said Gould impatiently—“if these + gals were all alive (all alive O!) I’d chance a fiver they were all + born.” + </p> + <p> + “You’d lose your fiver,” said Michael, speaking gravely + out of the gloom. “All those admirable ladies were alive. They were + more alive for having come into contact with Smith. They were all quite + definitely alive, but only one of them was ever born.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you asking us to believe—” began Dr. Pym. + </p> + <p> + “I am asking you a second question,” said Moon sternly. + “Can the court now sitting throw any light on a truly singular + circumstance? Dr. Pym, in his interesting lecture on what are called, I + believe, the relations of the sexes, said that Smith was the slave of a + lust for variety which would lead a man first to a negress and then to an + albino, first to a Patagonian giantess and then to a tiny Eskimo. But is + there any evidence of such variety here? Is there any trace of a gigantic + Patagonian in the story? Was the typewriter an Eskimo? So picturesque a + circumstance would not surely have escaped remark. Was Lady Bullingdon’s + dressmaker a negress? A voice in my bosom answers, `No!’ Lady + Bullingdon, I am sure, would think a negress so conspicuous as to be + almost Socialistic, and would feel something a little rakish even about an + albino. + </p> + <p> + “But was there in Smith’s taste any such variety as the + learned doctor describes? So far as our slight materials go, the very + opposite seems to be the case. We have only one actual description of any + of the prisoner’s wives— the short but highly poetic account + by the aesthetic curate. `Her dress was the colour of spring, and her hair + of autumn leaves.’ Autumn leaves, of course, are of various colours, + some of which would be rather startling in hair (green, for instance); but + I think such an expression would be most naturally used of the shades from + red-brown to red, especially as ladies with their coppery-coloured hair do + frequently wear light artistic greens. Now when we come to the next wife, + we find the eccentric lover, when told he is a donkey, answering that + donkeys always go after carrots; a remark which Lady Bullingdon evidently + regarded as pointless and part of the natural table-talk of a village + idiot, but which has an obvious meaning if we suppose that Polly’s + hair was red. Passing to the next wife, the one he took from the girls’ + school, we find Miss Gridley noticing that the schoolgirl in question wore + `a reddish-brown dress, that went quietly enough with the warmer colour of + her hair.’ In other words, the colour of the girl’s hair was + something redder than red-brown. Lastly, the romantic organ-grinder + declaimed in the office some poetry that only got as far as the words,— + </p> + <p> + `O vivid, inviolate head, Ringed —’ + </p> + <p> + But I think that a wide study of the worst modern poets will enable us to + guess that `ringed with a glory of red,’ or `ringed with its + passionate red,’ was the line that rhymed to `head.’ In this + case once more, therefore, there is good reason to suppose that Smith fell + in love with a girl with some sort of auburn or darkish-red hair—rather,” + he said, looking down at the table, “rather like Miss Gray’s + hair.” + </p> + <p> + Cyrus Pym was leaning forward with lowered eyelids, ready with one of his + more pedantic interpellations; but Moses Gould suddenly struck his + forefinger on his nose, with an expression of extreme astonishment and + intelligence in his brilliant eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Moon’s contention at present,” interposed Pym, + “is not, even if veracious, inconsistent with the lunatico-criminal + view of I. Smith, which we have nailed to the mast. Science has long + anticipated such a complication. An incurable attraction to a particular + type of physical woman is one of the commonest of criminal per-versities, + and when not considered narrowly, but in the light of induction and + evolution—” + </p> + <p> + “At this late stage,” said Michael Moon very quietly, “I + may perhaps relieve myself of a simple emotion that has been pressing me + throughout the proceedings, by saying that induction and evolution may go + and boil themselves. The Missing Link and all that is well enough for + kids, but I’m talking about things we know here. All we know of the + Missing Link is that he is missing—and he won’t be missed + either. I know all about his human head and his horrid tail; they belong + to a very old game called `Heads I win, tails you lose.’ If you do + find a fellow’s bones, it proves he lived a long while ago; if you + don’t find his bones, it proves how long ago he lived. That is the + game you’ve been playing with this Smith affair. Because Smith’s + head is small for his shoulders you call him microcephalous; if it had + been large, you’d have called it water-on-the-brain. As long as poor + old Smith’s seraglio seemed pretty various, variety was the sign of + madness: now, because it’s turning out to be a bit monochrome—now + monotony is the sign of madness. I suffer from all the disadvantages of + being a grown-up person, and I’m jolly well going to get some of the + advantages too; and with all politeness I propose not to be bullied with + long words instead of short reasons, or consider your business a + triumphant progress merely because you’re always finding out that + you were wrong. Having relieved myself of these feelings, I have merely to + add that I regard Dr. Pym as an ornament to the world far more beautiful + than the Parthenon, or the monument on Bunker’s Hill, and that I + propose to resume and conclude my remarks on the many marriages of Mr. + Innocent Smith. + </p> + <p> + “Besides this red hair, there is another unifying thread that runs + through these scattered incidents. There is something very peculiar and + suggestive about the names of these women. Mr. Trip, you will remember, + said he thought the typewriter’s name was Blake, but could not + remember exactly. I suggest that it might have been Black, and in that + case we have a curious series: Miss Green in Lady Bullingdon’s + village; Miss Brown at the Hendon School; Miss Black at the publishers. A + chord of colours, as it were, which ends up with Miss Gray at Beacon + House, West Hampstead.” + </p> + <p> + Amid a dead silence Moon continued his exposition. “What is the + meaning of this queer coincidence about colours? Personally I cannot doubt + for a moment that these names are purely arbitrary names, assumed as part + of some general scheme or joke. I think it very probable that they were + taken from a series of costumes— that Polly Green only meant Polly + (or Mary) when in green, and that Mary Gray only means Mary (or Polly) + when in gray. This would explain—” + </p> + <p> + Cyrus Pym was standing up rigid and almost pallid. “Do you actually + mean to suggest—” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Michael; “I do mean to suggest that. + Innocent Smith has had many wooings, and many weddings for all I know; but + he has had only one wife. She was sitting on that chair an hour ago, and + is now talking to Miss Duke in the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Innocent Smith has behaved here, as he has on hundreds of + other occasions, upon a plain and perfectly blameless principle. It is odd + and extravagant in the modern world, but not more than any other principle + plainly applied in the modern world would be. His principle can be quite + simply stated: he refuses to die while he is still alive. He seeks to + remind himself, by every electric shock to the intellect, that he is still + a man alive, walking on two legs about the world. For this reason he fires + bullets at his best friends; for this reason he arranges ladders and + collapsible chimneys to steal his own property; for this reason he goes + plodding around a whole planet to get back to his own home; and for this + reason he has been in the habit of taking the woman whom he loved with a + permanent loyalty, and leaving her about (so to speak) at schools, + boarding-houses, and places of business, so that he might recover her + again and again with a raid and a romantic elopement. He seriously sought + by a perpetual recapture of his bride to keep alive the sense of her + perpetual value, and the perils that should be run for her sake. + </p> + <p> + “So far his motives are clear enough; but perhaps his convictions + are not quite so clear. I think Innocent Smith has an idea at the bottom + of all this. I am by no means sure that I believe it myself, but I am + quite sure that it is worth a man’s uttering and defending. + </p> + <p> + “The idea that Smith is attacking is this. Living in an entangled + civilization, we have come to think certain things wrong which are not + wrong at all. We have come to think outbreak and exuberance, banging and + barging, rotting and wrecking, wrong. In themselves they are not merely + pardonable; they are unimpeachable. There is nothing wicked about firing a + pistol off even at a friend, so long as you do not mean to hit him and + know you won’t. It is no more wrong than throwing a pebble at the + sea—less, for you do occasionally hit the sea. There is nothing + wrong in bashing down a chimney-pot and breaking through a roof, so long + as you are not injuring the life or property of other men. It is no more + wrong to choose to enter a house from the top than to choose to open a + packing-case from the bottom. There is nothing wicked about walking round + the world and coming back to your own house; it is no more wicked than + walking round the garden and coming back to your own house. And there is + nothing wicked about picking up your wife here, there, and everywhere, if, + forsaking all others, you keep only to her so long as you both shall live. + It is as innocent as playing a game of hide-and-seek in the garden. You + associate such acts with blackguardism by a mere snobbish association, as + you think there is something vaguely vile about going (or being seen + going) into a pawnbroker’s or a public-house. You think there is + something squalid and commonplace about such a connection. You are + mistaken. + </p> + <p> + “This man’s spiritual power has been precisely this, that he + has distinguished between custom and creed. He has broken the conventions, + but he has kept the commandments. It is as if a man were found gambling + wildly in a gambling hell, and you found that he only played for trouser + buttons. It is as if you found a man making a clandestine appointment with + a lady at a Covent Garden ball, and then you found it was his grandmother. + Everything is ugly and discreditable, except the facts; everything is + wrong about him, except that he has done no wrong. + </p> + <p> + “It will then be asked, `Why does Innocent Smith continue far into + his middle age a farcical existence, that exposes him to so many false + charges?’ To this I merely answer that he does it because he really + is happy, because he really is hilarious, because he really is a man and + alive. He is so young that climbing garden trees and playing silly + practical jokes are still to him what they once were to us all. And if you + ask me yet again why he alone among men should be fed with such + inexhaustible follies, I have a very simple answer to that, though it is + one that will not be approved. + </p> + <p> + “There is but one answer, and I am sorry if you don’t like it. + If Innocent is happy, it is because he IS innocent. If he can defy the + conventions, it is just because he can keep the commandments. It is just + because he does not want to kill but to excite to life that a pistol is + still as exciting to him as it is to a schoolboy. It is just because he + does not want to steal, because he does not covet his neighbour’s + goods, that he has captured the trick (oh, how we all long for it!), the + trick of coveting his own goods. It is just because he does not want to + commit adultery that he achieves the romance of sex; it is just because he + loves one wife that he has a hundred honeymoons. If he had really murdered + a man, if he had really deserted a woman, he would not be able to feel + that a pistol or a love-letter was like a song— at least, not a + comic song.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not imagine, please, that any such attitude is easy to me or + appeals in any particular way to my sympathies. I am an Irishman, and a + certain sorrow is in my bones, bred either of the persecutions of my + creed, or of my creed itself. Speaking singly, I feel as if man was tied + to tragedy, and there was no way out of the trap of old age and doubt. But + if there is a way out, then, by Christ and St. Patrick, this is the way + out. If one could keep as happy as a child or a dog, it would be by being + as innocent as a child, or as sinless as a dog. Barely and brutally to be + good—that may be the road, and he may have found it. Well, well, + well, I see a look of skepticism on the face of my old friend Moses. Mr. + Gould does not believe that being perfectly good in all respects would + make a man merry.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Gould, with an unusual and convincing gravity; + “I do not believe that being perfectly good in all respects would + make a man merry.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Michael quietly, “will you tell me one + thing? Which of us has ever tried it?” + </p> + <p> + A silence ensued, rather like the silence of some long geological epoch + which awaits the emergence of some unexpected type; for there rose at last + in the stillness a massive figure that the other men had almost completely + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “Well, gentlemen,” said Dr. Warner cheerfully, “I’ve + been pretty well entertained with all this pointless and incompetent + tomfoolery for a couple of days; but it seems to be wearing rather thin, + and I’m engaged for a city dinner. Among the hundred flowers of + futility on both sides I was unable to detect any sort of reason why a + lunatic should be allowed to shoot me in the back garden.” + </p> + <p> + He had settled his silk hat on his head and gone out sailing placidly to + the garden gate, while the almost wailing voice of Pym still followed him: + “But really the bullet missed you by several feet.” And + another voice added: “The bullet missed him by several years.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long and mainly unmeaning silence, and then Moon said + suddenly, “We have been sitting with a ghost. Dr. Herbert Warner + died years ago.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter V — How the Great Wind Went from Beacon House + </h2> + <p> + Mary was walking between Diana and Rosamund slowly up and down the garden; + they were silent, and the sun had set. Such spaces of daylight as remained + open in the west were of a warm-tinted white, which can be compared to + nothing but a cream cheese; and the lines of plumy cloud that ran across + them had a soft but vivid violet bloom, like a violet smoke. All the rest + of the scene swept and faded away into a dove-like gray, and seemed to + melt and mount into Mary’s dark-gray figure until she seemed clothed + with the garden and the skies. There was something in these last quiet + colours that gave her a setting and a supremacy; and the twilight, which + concealed Diana’s statelier figure and Rosamund’s braver + array, exhibited and emphasized her, leaving her the lady of the garden, + and alone. + </p> + <p> + When they spoke at last it was evident that a conversation long fallen + silent was being revived. + </p> + <p> + “But where is your husband taking you?” asked Diana in her + practical voice. + </p> + <p> + “To an aunt,” said Mary; “that’s just the joke. + There really is an aunt, and we left the children with her when I arranged + to be turned out of the other boarding-house down the road. We never take + more than a week of this kind of holiday, but sometimes we take two of + them together.” + </p> + <p> + “Does the aunt mind much?” asked Rosamund innocently. “Of + course, I dare say it’s very narrow-minded and—what’s + that other word?— you know, what Goliath was—but I’ve + known many aunts who would think it—well, silly.” + </p> + <p> + “Silly?” cried Mary with great heartiness. “Oh, my + Sunday hat! I should think it was silly! But what do you expect? He really + is a good man, and it might have been snakes or something.” + </p> + <p> + “Snakes?” inquired Rosamund, with a slightly puzzled interest. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Harry kept snakes, and said they loved him,” replied + Mary with perfect simplicity. “Auntie let him have them in his + pockets, but not in the bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + “And you—” began Diana, knitting her dark brows a + little. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I do as auntie did,” said Mary; “as long as we’re + not away from the children more than a fortnight together I play the game. + He calls me `Manalive;’ and you must write it all one word, or he’s + quite flustered.” + </p> + <p> + “But if men want things like that,” began Diana. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what’s the good of talking about men?” cried Mary + impatiently; “why, one might as well be a lady novelist or some + horrid thing. There aren’t any men. There are no such people. There’s + a man; and whoever he is he’s quite different.” + </p> + <p> + “So there is no safety,” said Diana in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t know,” answered Mary, lightly enough; + “there’s only two things generally true of them. At certain + curious times they’re just fit to take care of us, and they’re + never fit to take care of themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a gale getting up,” said Rosamund suddenly. “Look + at those trees over there, a long way off, and the clouds going quicker.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what you’re thinking about,” said Mary; “and + don’t you be silly fools. Don’t you listen to the lady + novelists. You go down the king’s highway; for God’s truth, it + is God’s. Yes, my dear Michael will often be extremely untidy. + Arthur Inglewood will be worse—he’ll be untidy. But what else + are all the trees and clouds for, you silly kittens?” + </p> + <p> + “The clouds and trees are all waving about,” said Rosamund. + “There is a storm coming, and it makes me feel quite excited, + somehow. Michael is really rather like a storm: he frightens me and makes + me happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you be frightened,” said Mary. “All over, + these men have one advantage; they are the sort that go out.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden thrust of wind through the trees drifted the dying leaves along + the path, and they could hear the far-off trees roaring faintly. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” said Mary, “they are the kind that look + outwards and get interested in the world. It doesn’t matter a bit + whether it’s arguing, or bicycling, or breaking down the ends of the + earth as poor old Innocent does. Stick to the man who looks out of the + window and tries to understand the world. Keep clear of the man who looks + in at the window and tries to understand you. When poor old Adam had gone + out gardening (Arthur will go out gardening), the other sort came along + and wormed himself in, nasty old snake.” + </p> + <p> + “You agree with your aunt,” said Rosamund, smiling: “no + snakes in the bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t agree with my aunt very much,” replied Mary + simply, “but I think she was right to let Uncle Harry collect + dragons and griffins, so long as it got him out of the house.” + </p> + <p> + Almost at the same moment lights sprang up inside the darkened house, + turning the two glass doors into the garden into gates of beaten gold. The + golden gates were burst open, and the enormous Smith, who had sat like a + clumsy statue for so many hours, came flying and turning cart-wheels down + the lawn and shouting, “Acquitted! acquitted!” Echoing the + cry, Michael scampered across the lawn to Rosamund and wildly swung her + into a few steps of what was supposed to be a waltz. But the company knew + Innocent and Michael by this time, and their extravagances were gaily + taken for granted; it was far more extraordinary that Arthur Inglewood + walked straight up to Diana and kissed her as if it had been his sister’s + birthday. Even Dr. Pym, though he refrained from dancing, looked on with + real benevolence; for indeed the whole of the absurd revelation had + disturbed him less than the others; he half supposed that such + irresponsible tribunals and insane discussions were part of the mediaeval + mummeries of the Old Land. + </p> + <p> + While the tempest tore the sky as with trumpets, window after window was + lighted up in the house within; and before the company, broken with + laughter and the buffeting of the wind, had groped their way to the house + again, they saw that the great apish figure of Innocent Smith had + clambered out of his own attic window, and roaring again and again, + “Beacon House!” whirled round his head a huge log or trunk + from the wood fire below, of which the river of crimson flame and purple + smoke drove out on the deafening air. + </p> + <p> + He was evident enough to have been seen from three counties; but when the + wind died down, and the party, at the top of their evening’s + merriment, looked again for Mary and for him, they were not to be found. + </p> + <p> + The End + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Manalive, by G. 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