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diff --git a/1743-h/1743-h.htm b/1743-h/1743-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..822cfdf --- /dev/null +++ b/1743-h/1743-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9607 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Twelve Stories and a Dream, by H. G. Wells + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Twelve Stories and a Dream, by H. G. Wells + +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: Twelve Stories and a Dream + +Author: H. G. Wells + +Release Date: September 21, 2008 [EBook #1743] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWELVE STORIES AND A DREAM *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon, Stephanie Johnson, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + TWELVE STORIES AND A DREAM + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By H. G. Wells + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> 1. FILMER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> 2. THE MAGIC SHOP </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> 3. THE VALLEY OF SPIDERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> 4. THE TRUTH ABOUT PYECRAFT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> 5. MR. SKELMERSDALE IN FAIRYLAND </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> 6. THE STORY OF THE INEXPERIENCED GHOST + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> 7. JIMMY GOGGLES THE GOD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> 8. THE NEW ACCELERATOR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> 9. MR. LEDBETTER'S VACATION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> 10. THE STOLEN BODY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> 11. MR. BRISHER'S TREASURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> 12. MISS WINCHELSEA'S HEART </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> 13. A DREAM OF ARMAGEDDON </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + 1. FILMER + </h2> + <p> + In truth the mastery of flying was the work of thousands of men—this + man a suggestion and that an experiment, until at last only one vigorous + intellectual effort was needed to finish the work. But the inexorable + injustice of the popular mind has decided that of all these thousands, one + man, and that a man who never flew, should be chosen as the discoverer, + just as it has chosen to honour Watt as the discoverer of steam and + Stephenson of the steam-engine. And surely of all honoured names none is + so grotesquely and tragically honoured as poor Filmer's, the timid, + intellectual creature who solved the problem over which the world had hung + perplexed and a little fearful for so many generations, the man who + pressed the button that has changed peace and warfare and well-nigh every + condition of human life and happiness. Never has that recurring wonder of + the littleness of the scientific man in the face of the greatness of his + science found such an amazing exemplification. Much concerning Filmer is, + and must remain, profoundly obscure—Filmers attract no Boswells—but + the essential facts and the concluding scene are clear enough, and there + are letters, and notes, and casual allusions to piece the whole together. + And this is the story one makes, putting this thing with that, of Filmer's + life and death. + </p> + <p> + The first authentic trace of Filmer on the page of history is a document + in which he applies for admission as a paid student in physics to the + Government laboratories at South Kensington, and therein he describes + himself as the son of a “military bootmaker” (“cobbler” in the vulgar + tongue) of Dover, and lists his various examination proofs of a high + proficiency in chemistry and mathematics. With a certain want of dignity + he seeks to enhance these attainments by a profession of poverty and + disadvantages, and he writes of the laboratory as the “gaol” of his + ambitions, a slip which reinforces his claim to have devoted himself + exclusively to the exact sciences. The document is endorsed in a manner + that shows Filmer was admitted to this coveted opportunity; but until + quite recently no traces of his success in the Government institution + could be found. + </p> + <p> + It has now, however, been shown that in spite of his professed zeal for + research, Filmer, before he had held this scholarship a year, was tempted, + by the possibility of a small increase in his immediate income, to abandon + it in order to become one of the nine-pence-an-hour computers employed by + a well-known Professor in his vicarious conduct of those extensive + researches of his in solar physics—researches which are still a + matter of perplexity to astronomers. Afterwards, for the space of seven + years, save for the pass lists of the London University, in which he is + seen to climb slowly to a double first class B.Sc., in mathematics and + chemistry, there is no evidence of how Filmer passed his life. No one + knows how or where he lived, though it seems highly probable that he + continued to support himself by teaching while he prosecuted the studies + necessary for this distinction. And then, oddly enough, one finds him + mentioned in the correspondence of Arthur Hicks, the poet. + </p> + <p> + “You remember Filmer,” Hicks writes to his friend Vance; “well, HE hasn't + altered a bit, the same hostile mumble and the nasty chin—how CAN a + man contrive to be always three days from shaving?—and a sort of + furtive air of being engaged in sneaking in front of one; even his coat + and that frayed collar of his show no further signs of the passing years. + He was writing in the library and I sat down beside him in the name of + God's charity, whereupon he deliberately insulted me by covering up his + memoranda. It seems he has some brilliant research on hand that he + suspects me of all people—with a Bodley Booklet a-printing!—of + stealing. He has taken remarkable honours at the University—he went + through them with a sort of hasty slobber, as though he feared I might + interrupt him before he had told me all—and he spoke of taking his + D.Sc. as one might speak of taking a cab. And he asked what I was doing—with + a sort of comparative accent, and his arm was spread nervously, positively + a protecting arm, over the paper that hid the precious idea—his one + hopeful idea. + </p> + <p> + “'Poetry,' he said, 'Poetry. And what do you profess to teach in it, + Hicks?' + </p> + <p> + “The thing's a Provincial professorling in the very act of budding, and I + thank the Lord devoutly that but for the precious gift of indolence I also + might have gone this way to D.Sc. and destruction...” + </p> + <p> + A curious little vignette that I am inclined to think caught Filmer in or + near the very birth of his discovery. Hicks was wrong in anticipating a + provincial professorship for Filmer. Our next glimpse of him is lecturing + on “rubber and rubber substitutes,” to the Society of Arts—he had + become manager to a great plastic-substance manufactory—and at that + time, it is now known, he was a member of the Aeronautical Society, albeit + he contributed nothing to the discussions of that body, preferring no + doubt to mature his great conception without external assistance. And + within two years of that paper before the Society of Arts he was hastily + taking out a number of patents and proclaiming in various undignified ways + the completion of the divergent inquiries which made his flying machine + possible. The first definite statement to that effect appeared in a + halfpenny evening paper through the agency of a man who lodged in the same + house with Filmer. His final haste after his long laborious secret + patience seems to have been due to a needless panic, Bootle, the notorious + American scientific quack, having made an announcement that Filmer + interpreted wrongly as an anticipation of his idea. + </p> + <p> + Now what precisely was Filmer's idea? Really a very simple one. Before his + time the pursuit of aeronautics had taken two divergent lines, and had + developed on the one hand balloons—large apparatus lighter than air, + easy in ascent, and comparatively safe in descent, but floating helplessly + before any breeze that took them; and on the other, flying machines that + flew only in theory—vast flat structures heavier than air, propelled + and kept up by heavy engines and for the most part smashing at the first + descent. But, neglecting the fact that the inevitable final collapse + rendered them impossible, the weight of the flying machines gave them this + theoretical advantage, that they could go through the air against a wind, + a necessary condition if aerial navigation was to have any practical + value. It is Filmer's particular merit that he perceived the way in which + the contrasted and hitherto incompatible merits of balloon and heavy + flying machine might be combined in one apparatus, which should be at + choice either heavier or lighter than air. He took hints from the + contractile bladders of fish and the pneumatic cavities of birds. He + devised an arrangement of contractile and absolutely closed balloons which + when expanded could lift the actual flying apparatus with ease, and when + retracted by the complicated “musculature” he wove about them, were + withdrawn almost completely into the frame; and he built the large + framework which these balloons sustained, of hollow, rigid tubes, the air + in which, by an ingenious contrivance, was automatically pumped out as the + apparatus fell, and which then remained exhausted so long as the aeronaut + desired. There were no wings or propellers to his machine, such as there + had been to all previous aeroplanes, and the only engine required was the + compact and powerful little appliance needed to contract the balloons. He + perceived that such an apparatus as he had devised might rise with frame + exhausted and balloons expanded to a considerable height, might then + contract its balloons and let the air into its frame, and by an adjustment + of its weights slide down the air in any desired direction. As it fell it + would accumulate velocity and at the same time lose weight, and the + momentum accumulated by its down-rush could be utilised by means of a + shifting of its weights to drive it up in the air again as the balloons + expanded. This conception, which is still the structural conception of all + successful flying machines, needed, however, a vast amount of toil upon + its details before it could actually be realised, and such toil Filmer—as + he was accustomed to tell the numerous interviewers who crowded upon him + in the heyday of his fame—“ungrudgingly and unsparingly gave.” His + particular difficulty was the elastic lining of the contractile balloon. + He found he needed a new substance, and in the discovery and manufacture + of that new substance he had, as he never failed to impress upon the + interviewers, “performed a far more arduous work than even in the actual + achievement of my seemingly greater discovery.” + </p> + <p> + But it must not be imagined that these interviews followed hard upon + Filmer's proclamation of his invention. An interval of nearly five years + elapsed during which he timidly remained at his rubber factory—he + seems to have been entirely dependent on his small income from this source—making + misdirected attempts to assure a quite indifferent public that he really + HAD invented what he had invented. He occupied the greater part of his + leisure in the composition of letters to the scientific and daily press, + and so forth, stating precisely the net result of his contrivances, and + demanding financial aid. That alone would have sufficed for the + suppression of his letters. He spent such holidays as he could arrange in + unsatisfactory interviews with the door-keepers of leading London papers—he + was singularly not adapted for inspiring hall-porters with confidence—and + he positively attempted to induce the War Office to take up his work with + him. There remains a confidential letter from Major-General Volleyfire to + the Earl of Frogs. “The man's a crank and a bounder to boot,” says the + Major-General in his bluff, sensible, army way, and so left it open for + the Japanese to secure, as they subsequently did, the priority in this + side of warfare—a priority they still to our great discomfort + retain. + </p> + <p> + And then by a stroke of luck the membrane Filmer had invented for his + contractile balloon was discovered to be useful for the valves of a new + oil-engine, and he obtained the means for making a trial model of his + invention. He threw up his rubber factory appointment, desisted from all + further writing, and, with a certain secrecy that seems to have been an + inseparable characteristic of all his proceedings, set to work upon the + apparatus. He seems to have directed the making of its parts and collected + most of it in a room in Shoreditch, but its final putting together was + done at Dymchurch, in Kent. He did not make the affair large enough to + carry a man, but he made an extremely ingenious use of what were then + called the Marconi rays to control its flight. The first flight of this + first practicable flying machine took place over some fields near Burford + Bridge, near Hythe, in Kent, and Filmer followed and controlled its flight + upon a specially constructed motor tricycle. + </p> + <p> + The flight was, considering all things, an amazing success. The apparatus + was brought in a cart from Dymchurch to Burford Bridge, ascended there to + a height of nearly three hundred feet, swooped thence very nearly back to + Dymchurch, came about in its sweep, rose again, circled, and finally sank + uninjured in a field behind the Burford Bridge Inn. At its descent a + curious thing happened. Filmer got off his tricycle, scrambled over the + intervening dyke, advanced perhaps twenty yards towards his triumph, threw + out his arms in a strange gesticulation, and fell down in a dead faint. + Every one could then recall the ghastliness of his features and all the + evidences of extreme excitement they had observed throughout the trial, + things they might otherwise have forgotten. Afterwards in the inn he had + an unaccountable gust of hysterical weeping. + </p> + <p> + Altogether there were not twenty witnesses of this affair, and those for + the most part uneducated men. The New Romney doctor saw the ascent but not + the descent, his horse being frightened by the electrical apparatus on + Filmer's tricycle and giving him a nasty spill. Two members of the Kent + constabulary watched the affair from a cart in an unofficial spirit, and a + grocer calling round the Marsh for orders and two lady cyclists seem + almost to complete the list of educated people. There were two reporters + present, one representing a Folkestone paper and the other being a + fourth-class interviewer and “symposium” journalist, whose expenses down, + Filmer, anxious as ever for adequate advertisement—and now quite + realising the way in which adequate advertisement may be obtained—had + paid. The latter was one of those writers who can throw a convincing air + of unreality over the most credible events, and his half-facetious account + of the affair appeared in the magazine page of a popular journal. But, + happily for Filmer, this person's colloquial methods were more convincing. + He went to offer some further screed upon the subject to Banghurst, the + proprietor of the New Paper, and one of the ablest and most unscrupulous + men in London journalism, and Banghurst instantly seized upon the + situation. The interviewer vanishes from the narrative, no doubt very + doubtfully remunerated, and Banghurst, Banghurst himself, double chin, + grey twill suit, abdomen, voice, gestures and all, appears at Dymchurch, + following his large, unrivalled journalistic nose. He had seen the whole + thing at a glance, just what it was and what it might be. + </p> + <p> + At his touch, as it were, Filmer's long-pent investigations exploded into + fame. He instantly and most magnificently was a Boom. One turns over the + files of the journals of the year 1907 with a quite incredulous + recognition of how swift and flaming the boom of those days could be. The + July papers know nothing of flying, see nothing in flying, state by a most + effective silence that men never would, could or should fly. In August + flying and Filmer and flying and parachutes and aerial tactics and the + Japanese Government and Filmer and again flying, shouldered the war in + Yunnan and the gold mines of Upper Greenland off the leading page. And + Banghurst had given ten thousand pounds, and, further, Banghurst was + giving five thousand pounds, and Banghurst had devoted his well-known, + magnificent (but hitherto sterile) private laboratories and several acres + of land near his private residence on the Surrey hills to the strenuous + and violent completion—Banghurst fashion—of the life-size + practicable flying machine. Meanwhile, in the sight of privileged + multitudes in the walled-garden of the Banghurst town residence in Fulham, + Filmer was exhibited at weekly garden parties putting the working model + through its paces. At enormous initial cost, but with a final profit, the + New Paper presented its readers with a beautiful photographic souvenir of + the first of these occasions. + </p> + <p> + Here again the correspondence of Arthur Hicks and his friend Vance comes + to our aid. + </p> + <p> + “I saw Filmer in his glory,” he writes, with just the touch of envy + natural to his position as a poet passe. “The man is brushed and shaved, + dressed in the fashion of a Royal-Institution-Afternoon Lecturer, the very + newest shape in frock-coats and long patent shoes, and altogether in a + state of extraordinary streakiness between an owlish great man and a + scared abashed self-conscious bounder cruelly exposed. He hasn't a touch + of colour in the skin of his face, his head juts forward, and those queer + little dark amber eyes of his watch furtively round him for his fame. His + clothes fit perfectly and yet sit upon him as though he had bought them + ready-made. He speaks in a mumble still, but he says, you perceive + indistinctly, enormous self-assertive things, he backs into the rear of + groups by instinct if Banghurst drops the line for a minute, and when he + walks across Banghurst's lawn one perceives him a little out of breath and + going jerky, and that his weak white hands are clenched. His is a state of + tension—horrible tension. And he is the Greatest Discoverer of This + or Any Age—the Greatest Discoverer of This or Any Age! What strikes + one so forcibly about him is that he didn't somehow quite expect it ever, + at any rate, not at all like this. Banghurst is about everywhere, the + energetic M.C. of his great little catch, and I swear he will have every + one down on his lawn there before he has finished with the engine; he had + bagged the prime minister yesterday, and he, bless his heart! didn't look + particularly outsize, on the very first occasion. Conceive it! Filmer! Our + obscure unwashed Filmer, the Glory of British science! Duchesses crowd + upon him, beautiful, bold peeresses say in their beautiful, clear loud + voices—have you noticed how penetrating the great lady is becoming + nowadays?—'Oh, Mr. Filmer, how DID you do it?' + </p> + <p> + “Common men on the edge of things are too remote for the answer. One + imagines something in the way of that interview, 'toil ungrudgingly and + unsparingly given, Madam, and, perhaps—I don't know—but + perhaps a little special aptitude.'” + </p> + <p> + So far Hicks, and the photographic supplement to the New Paper is in + sufficient harmony with the description. In one picture the machine swings + down towards the river, and the tower of Fulham church appears below it + through a gap in the elms, and in another, Filmer sits at his guiding + batteries, and the great and beautiful of the earth stand around him, with + Banghurst massed modestly but resolutely in the rear. The grouping is + oddly apposite. Occluding much of Banghurst, and looking with a pensive, + speculative expression at Filmer, stands the Lady Mary Elkinghorn, still + beautiful, in spite of the breath of scandal and her eight-and-thirty + years, the only person whose face does not admit a perception of the + camera that was in the act of snapping them all. + </p> + <p> + So much for the exterior facts of the story, but, after all, they are very + exterior facts. About the real interest of the business one is necessarily + very much in the dark. How was Filmer feeling at the time? How much was a + certain unpleasant anticipation present inside that very new and + fashionable frock-coat? He was in the halfpenny, penny, six-penny, and + more expensive papers alike, and acknowledged by the whole world as “the + Greatest Discoverer of This or Any Age.” He had invented a practicable + flying machine, and every day down among the Surrey hills the life-sized + model was getting ready. And when it was ready, it followed as a clear + inevitable consequence of his having invented and made it—everybody + in the world, indeed, seemed to take it for granted; there wasn't a gap + anywhere in that serried front of anticipation—that he would proudly + and cheerfully get aboard it, ascend with it, and fly. + </p> + <p> + But we know now pretty clearly that simple pride and cheerfulness in such + an act were singularly out of harmony with Filmer's private constitution. + It occurred to no one at the time, but there the fact is. We can guess + with some confidence now that it must have been drifting about in his mind + a great deal during the day, and, from a little note to his physician + complaining of persistent insomnia, we have the soundest reason for + supposing it dominated his nights,—the idea that it would be after + all, in spite of his theoretical security, an abominably sickening, + uncomfortable, and dangerous thing for him to flap about in nothingness a + thousand feet or so in the air. It must have dawned upon him quite early + in the period of being the Greatest Discoverer of This or Any Age, the + vision of doing this and that with an extensive void below. Perhaps + somewhen in his youth he had looked down a great height or fallen down in + some excessively uncomfortable way; perhaps some habit of sleeping on the + wrong side had resulted in that disagreeable falling nightmare one knows, + and given him his horror; of the strength of that horror there remains now + not a particle of doubt. + </p> + <p> + Apparently he had never weighed this duty of flying in his earlier days of + research; the machine had been his end, but now things were opening out + beyond his end, and particularly this giddy whirl up above there. He was a + Discoverer and he had Discovered. But he was not a Flying Man, and it was + only now that he was beginning to perceive clearly that he was expected to + fly. Yet, however much the thing was present in his mind he gave no + expression to it until the very end, and meanwhile he went to and fro from + Banghurst's magnificent laboratories, and was interviewed and lionised, + and wore good clothes, and ate good food, and lived in an elegant flat, + enjoying a very abundant feast of such good, coarse, wholesome Fame and + Success as a man, starved for all his years as he had been starved, might + be reasonably expected to enjoy. + </p> + <p> + After a time, the weekly gatherings in Fulham ceased. The model had failed + one day just for a moment to respond to Filmer's guidance, or he had been + distracted by the compliments of an archbishop. At any rate, it suddenly + dug its nose into the air just a little too steeply as the archbishop was + sailing through a Latin quotation for all the world like an archbishop in + a book, and it came down in the Fulham Road within three yards of a 'bus + horse. It stood for a second perhaps, astonishing and in its attitude + astonished, then it crumpled, shivered into pieces, and the 'bus horse was + incidentally killed. + </p> + <p> + Filmer lost the end of the archiepiscopal compliment. He stood up and + stared as his invention swooped out of sight and reach of him. His long, + white hands still gripped his useless apparatus. The archbishop followed + his skyward stare with an apprehension unbecoming in an archbishop. + </p> + <p> + Then came the crash and the shouts and uproar from the road to relieve + Filmer's tension. “My God!” he whispered, and sat down. + </p> + <p> + Every one else almost was staring to see where the machine had vanished, + or rushing into the house. + </p> + <p> + The making of the big machine progressed all the more rapidly for this. + Over its making presided Filmer, always a little slow and very careful in + his manner, always with a growing preoccupation in his mind. His care over + the strength and soundness of the apparatus was prodigious. The slightest + doubt, and he delayed everything until the doubtful part could be + replaced. Wilkinson, his senior assistant, fumed at some of these delays, + which, he insisted, were for the most part unnecessary. Banghurst + magnified the patient certitude of Filmer in the New Paper, and reviled it + bitterly to his wife, and MacAndrew, the second assistant, approved + Filmer's wisdom. “We're not wanting a fiasco, man,” said MacAndrew. “He's + perfectly well advised.” + </p> + <p> + And whenever an opportunity arose Filmer would expound to Wilkinson and + MacAndrew just exactly how every part of the flying machine was to be + controlled and worked, so that in effect they would be just as capable, + and even more capable, when at last the time came, of guiding it through + the skies. + </p> + <p> + Now I should imagine that if Filmer had seen fit at this stage to define + just what he was feeling, and to take a definite line in the matter of his + ascent, he might have escaped that painful ordeal quite easily. If he had + had it clearly in his mind he could have done endless things. He would + surely have found no difficulty with a specialist to demonstrate a weak + heart, or something gastric or pulmonary, to stand in his way—that + is the line I am astonished he did not take,—or he might, had he + been man enough, have declared simply and finally that he did not intend + to do the thing. But the fact is, though the dread was hugely present in + his mind, the thing was by no means sharp and clear. I fancy that all + through this period he kept telling himself that when the occasion came he + would find himself equal to it. He was like a man just gripped by a great + illness, who says he feels a little out of sorts, and expects to be better + presently. Meanwhile he delayed the completion of the machine, and let the + assumption that he was going to fly it take root and flourish exceedingly + about him. He even accepted anticipatory compliments on his courage. And, + barring this secret squeamishness, there can be no doubt he found all the + praise and distinction and fuss he got a delightful and even intoxicating + draught. + </p> + <p> + The Lady Mary Elkinghorn made things a little more complicated for him. + </p> + <p> + How THAT began was a subject of inexhaustible speculation to Hicks. + Probably in the beginning she was just a little “nice” to him with that + impartial partiality of hers, and it may be that to her eyes, standing out + conspicuously as he did ruling his monster in the upper air, he had a + distinction that Hicks was not disposed to find. And somehow they must + have had a moment of sufficient isolation, and the great Discoverer a + moment of sufficient courage for something just a little personal to be + mumbled or blurted. However it began, there is no doubt that it did begin, + and presently became quite perceptible to a world accustomed to find in + the proceedings of the Lady Mary Elkinghorn a matter of entertainment. It + complicated things, because the state of love in such a virgin mind as + Filmer's would brace his resolution, if not sufficiently, at any rate + considerably towards facing a danger he feared, and hampered him in such + attempts at evasion as would otherwise be natural and congenial. + </p> + <p> + It remains a matter for speculation just how the Lady Mary felt for Filmer + and just what she thought of him. At thirty-eight one may have gathered + much wisdom and still be not altogether wise, and the imagination still + functions actively enough in creating glamours and effecting the + impossible. He came before her eyes as a very central man, and that always + counts, and he had powers, unique powers as it seemed, at any rate in the + air. The performance with the model had just a touch of the quality of a + potent incantation, and women have ever displayed an unreasonable + disposition to imagine that when a man has powers he must necessarily have + Power. Given so much, and what was not good in Filmer's manner and + appearance became an added merit. He was modest, he hated display, but + given an occasion where TRUE qualities are needed, then—then one + would see! + </p> + <p> + The late Mrs. Bampton thought it wise to convey to Lady Mary her opinion + that Filmer, all things considered, was rather a “grub.” “He's certainly + not a sort of man I have ever met before,” said the Lady Mary, with a + quite unruffled serenity. And Mrs. Bampton, after a swift, imperceptible + glance at that serenity, decided that so far as saying anything to Lady + Mary went, she had done as much as could be expected of her. But she said + a great deal to other people. + </p> + <p> + And at last, without any undue haste or unseemliness, the day dawned, the + great day, when Banghurst had promised his public—the world in fact—that + flying should be finally attained and overcome. Filmer saw it dawn, + watched even in the darkness before it dawned, watched its stars fade and + the grey and pearly pinks give place at last to the clear blue sky of a + sunny, cloudless day. He watched it from the window of his bedroom in the + new-built wing of Banghurst's Tudor house. And as the stars were + overwhelmed and the shapes and substances of things grew into being out of + the amorphous dark, he must have seen more and more distinctly the festive + preparations beyond the beech clumps near the green pavilion in the outer + park, the three stands for the privileged spectators, the raw, new fencing + of the enclosure, the sheds and workshops, the Venetian masts and + fluttering flags that Banghurst had considered essential, black and limp + in the breezeless dawn, and amidst all these things a great shape covered + with tarpauling. A strange and terrible portent for humanity was that + shape, a beginning that must surely spread and widen and change and + dominate all the affairs of men, but to Filmer it is very doubtful whether + it appeared in anything but a narrow and personal light. Several people + heard him pacing in the small hours—for the vast place was packed + with guests by a proprietor editor who, before all understood compression. + And about five o'clock, if not before, Filmer left his room and wandered + out of the sleeping house into the park, alive by that time with sunlight + and birds and squirrels and the fallow deer. MacAndrew, who was also an + early riser, met him near the machine, and they went and had a look at it + together. + </p> + <p> + It is doubtful if Filmer took any breakfast, in spite of the urgency of + Banghurst. So soon as the guests began to be about in some number he seems + to have retreated to his room. Thence about ten he went into the + shrubbery, very probably because he had seen the Lady Mary Elkinghorn + there. She was walking up and down, engaged in conversation with her old + school friend, Mrs. Brewis-Craven, and although Filmer had never met the + latter lady before, he joined them and walked beside them for some time. + There were several silences in spite of the Lady Mary's brilliance. The + situation was a difficult one, and Mrs. Brewis-Craven did not master its + difficulty. “He struck me,” she said afterwards with a luminous + self-contradiction, “as a very unhappy person who had something to say, + and wanted before all things to be helped to say it. But how was one to + help him when one didn't know what it was?” + </p> + <p> + At half-past eleven the enclosures for the public in the outer park were + crammed, there was an intermittent stream of equipages along the belt + which circles the outer park, and the house party was dotted over the lawn + and shrubbery and the corner of the inner park, in a series of brilliantly + attired knots, all making for the flying machine. Filmer walked in a group + of three with Banghurst, who was supremely and conspicuously happy, and + Sir Theodore Hickle, the president of the Aeronautical Society. Mrs. + Banghurst was close behind with the Lady Mary Elkinghorn, Georgina Hickle, + and the Dean of Stays. Banghurst was large and copious in speech, and such + interstices as he left were filled in by Hickle with complimentary remarks + to Filmer. And Filmer walked between them saying not a word except by way + of unavoidable reply. Behind, Mrs. Banghurst listened to the admirably + suitable and shapely conversation of the Dean with that fluttered + attention to the ampler clergy ten years of social ascent and ascendency + had not cured in her; and the Lady Mary watched, no doubt with an entire + confidence in the world's disillusionment, the drooping shoulders of the + sort of man she had never met before. + </p> + <p> + There was some cheering as the central party came into view of the + enclosures, but it was not very unanimous nor invigorating cheering. They + were within fifty yards of the apparatus when Filmer took a hasty glance + over his shoulder to measure the distance of the ladies behind them, and + decided to make the first remark he had initiated since the house had been + left. His voice was just a little hoarse, and he cut in on Banghurst in + mid-sentence on Progress. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Banghurst,” he said, and stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Banghurst. + </p> + <p> + “I wish—” He moistened his lips. “I'm not feeling well.” + </p> + <p> + Banghurst stopped dead. “Eh?” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + “A queer feeling.” Filmer made to move on, but Banghurst was immovable. “I + don't know. I may be better in a minute. If not—perhaps... MacAndrew—” + </p> + <p> + “You're not feeling WELL?” said Banghurst, and stared at his white face. + </p> + <p> + “My dear!” he said, as Mrs. Banghurst came up with them, “Filmer says he + isn't feeling WELL.” + </p> + <p> + “A little queer,” exclaimed Filmer, avoiding the Lady Mary's eyes. “It may + pass off—” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + It came to Filmer that he was the most isolated person in the world. + </p> + <p> + “In any case,” said Banghurst, “the ascent must be made. Perhaps if you + were to sit down somewhere for a moment—” + </p> + <p> + “It's the crowd, I think,” said Filmer. + </p> + <p> + There was a second pause. Banghurst's eye rested in scrutiny on Filmer, + and then swept the sample of public in the enclosure. + </p> + <p> + “It's unfortunate,” said Sir Theodore Hickle; “but still—I suppose—Your + assistants—Of course, if you feel out of condition and disinclined—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think Mr. Filmer would permit THAT for a moment,” said Lady Mary. + </p> + <p> + “But if Mr. Filmer's nerve is run—It might even be dangerous for him + to attempt—” Hickle coughed. + </p> + <p> + “It's just because it's dangerous,” began the Lady Mary, and felt she had + made her point of view and Filmer's plain enough. + </p> + <p> + Conflicting motives struggled for Filmer. + </p> + <p> + “I feel I ought to go up,” he said, regarding the ground. He looked up and + met the Lady Mary's eyes. “I want to go up,” he said, and smiled whitely + at her. He turned towards Banghurst. “If I could just sit down somewhere + for a moment out of the crowd and sun—” + </p> + <p> + Banghurst, at least, was beginning to understand the case. “Come into my + little room in the green pavilion,” he said. “It's quite cool there.” He + took Filmer by the arm. + </p> + <p> + Filmer turned his face to the Lady Mary Elkinghorn again. “I shall be all + right in five minutes,” he said. “I'm tremendously sorry—” + </p> + <p> + The Lady Mary Elkinghorn smiled at him. “I couldn't think—” he said + to Hickle, and obeyed the compulsion of Banghurst's pull. + </p> + <p> + The rest remained watching the two recede. + </p> + <p> + “He is so fragile,” said the Lady Mary. + </p> + <p> + “He's certainly a highly nervous type,” said the Dean, whose weakness it + was to regard the whole world, except married clergymen with enormous + families, as “neurotic.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Hickle, “it isn't absolutely necessary for him to go up + because he has invented—” + </p> + <p> + “How COULD he avoid it?” asked the Lady Mary, with the faintest shadow of + scorn. + </p> + <p> + “It's certainly most unfortunate if he's going to be ill now,” said Mrs. + Banghurst a little severely. + </p> + <p> + “He's not going to be ill,” said the Lady Mary, and certainly she had met + Filmer's eye. + </p> + <p> + “YOU'LL be all right,” said Banghurst, as they went towards the pavilion. + “All you want is a nip of brandy. It ought to be you, you know. You'll be—you'd + get it rough, you know, if you let another man—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I want to go,” said Filmer. “I shall be all right. As a matter of + fact I'm almost inclined NOW—. No! I think I'll have that nip of + brandy first.” + </p> + <p> + Banghurst took him into the little room and routed out an empty decanter. + He departed in search of a supply. He was gone perhaps five minutes. + </p> + <p> + The history of those five minutes cannot be written. At intervals Filmer's + face could be seen by the people on the easternmost of the stands erected + for spectators, against the window pane peering out, and then it would + recede and fade. Banghurst vanished shouting behind the grand stand, and + presently the butler appeared going pavilionward with a tray. + </p> + <p> + The apartment in which Filmer came to his last solution was a pleasant + little room very simply furnished with green furniture and an old bureau—for + Banghurst was simple in all his private ways. It was hung with little + engravings after Morland and it had a shelf of books. But as it happened, + Banghurst had left a rook rifle he sometimes played with on the top of the + desk, and on the corner of the mantelshelf was a tin with three or four + cartridges remaining in it. As Filmer went up and down that room wrestling + with his intolerable dilemma he went first towards the neat little rifle + athwart the blotting-pad and then towards the neat little red label + </p> + <p> + “.22 LONG.” + </p> + <p> + The thing must have jumped into his mind in a moment. + </p> + <p> + Nobody seems to have connected the report with him, though the gun, being + fired in a confined space, must have sounded loud, and there were several + people in the billiard-room, separated from him only by a lath-and-plaster + partition. But directly Banghurst's butler opened the door and smelt the + sour smell of the smoke, he knew, he says, what had happened. For the + servants at least of Banghurst's household had guessed something of what + was going on in Filmer's mind. + </p> + <p> + All through that trying afternoon Banghurst behaved as he held a man + should behave in the presence of hopeless disaster, and his guests for the + most part succeeded in not insisting upon the fact—though to conceal + their perception of it altogether was impossible—that Banghurst had + been pretty elaborately and completely swindled by the deceased. The + public in the enclosure, Hicks told me, dispersed “like a party that has + been ducking a welsher,” and there wasn't a soul in the train to London, + it seems, who hadn't known all along that flying was a quite impossible + thing for man. “But he might have tried it,” said many, “after carrying + the thing so far.” + </p> + <p> + In the evening, when he was comparatively alone, Banghurst broke down and + went on like a man of clay. I have been told he wept, which must have made + an imposing scene, and he certainly said Filmer had ruined his life, and + offered and sold the whole apparatus to MacAndrew for half-a-crown. “I've + been thinking—” said MacAndrew at the conclusion of the bargain, and + stopped. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the name of Filmer was, for the first time, less + conspicuous in the New Paper than in any other daily paper in the world. + The rest of the world's instructors, with varying emphasis, according to + their dignity and the degree of competition between themselves and the New + Paper, proclaimed the “Entire Failure of the New Flying Machine,” and + “Suicide of the Impostor.” But in the district of North Surrey the + reception of the news was tempered by a perception of unusual aerial + phenomena. + </p> + <p> + Overnight Wilkinson and MacAndrew had fallen into violent argument on the + exact motives of their principal's rash act. + </p> + <p> + “The man was certainly a poor, cowardly body, but so far as his science + went he was NO impostor,” said MacAndrew, “and I'm prepared to give that + proposition a very practical demonstration, Mr. Wilkinson, so soon as + we've got the place a little more to ourselves. For I've no faith in all + this publicity for experimental trials.” + </p> + <p> + And to that end, while all the world was reading of the certain failure of + the new flying machine, MacAndrew was soaring and curvetting with great + amplitude and dignity over the Epsom and Wimbledon divisions; and + Banghurst, restored once more to hope and energy, and regardless of public + security and the Board of Trade, was pursuing his gyrations and trying to + attract his attention, on a motor car and in his pyjamas—he had + caught sight of the ascent when pulling up the blind of his bedroom window—equipped, + among other things, with a film camera that was subsequently discovered to + be jammed. And Filmer was lying on the billiard table in the green + pavilion with a sheet about his body. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 2. THE MAGIC SHOP + </h2> + <p> + I had seen the Magic Shop from afar several times; I had passed it once or + twice, a shop window of alluring little objects, magic balls, magic hens, + wonderful cones, ventriloquist dolls, the material of the basket trick, + packs of cards that LOOKED all right, and all that sort of thing, but + never had I thought of going in until one day, almost without warning, Gip + hauled me by my finger right up to the window, and so conducted himself + that there was nothing for it but to take him in. I had not thought the + place was there, to tell the truth—a modest-sized frontage in Regent + Street, between the picture shop and the place where the chicks run about + just out of patent incubators, but there it was sure enough. I had fancied + it was down nearer the Circus, or round the corner in Oxford Street, or + even in Holborn; always over the way and a little inaccessible it had + been, with something of the mirage in its position; but here it was now + quite indisputably, and the fat end of Gip's pointing finger made a noise + upon the glass. + </p> + <p> + “If I was rich,” said Gip, dabbing a finger at the Disappearing Egg, “I'd + buy myself that. And that”—which was The Crying Baby, Very Human—“and + that,” which was a mystery, and called, so a neat card asserted, “Buy One + and Astonish Your Friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything,” said Gip, “will disappear under one of those cones. I have + read about it in a book. + </p> + <p> + “And there, dadda, is the Vanishing Halfpenny—, only they've put it + this way up so's we can't see how it's done.” + </p> + <p> + Gip, dear boy, inherits his mother's breeding, and he did not propose to + enter the shop or worry in any way; only, you know, quite unconsciously he + lugged my finger doorward, and he made his interest clear. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, and pointed to the Magic Bottle. + </p> + <p> + “If you had that?” I said; at which promising inquiry he looked up with a + sudden radiance. + </p> + <p> + “I could show it to Jessie,” he said, thoughtful as ever of others. + </p> + <p> + “It's less than a hundred days to your birthday, Gibbles,” I said, and + laid my hand on the door-handle. + </p> + <p> + Gip made no answer, but his grip tightened on my finger, and so we came + into the shop. + </p> + <p> + It was no common shop this; it was a magic shop, and all the prancing + precedence Gip would have taken in the matter of mere toys was wanting. He + left the burthen of the conversation to me. + </p> + <p> + It was a little, narrow shop, not very well lit, and the door-bell pinged + again with a plaintive note as we closed it behind us. For a moment or so + we were alone and could glance about us. There was a tiger in papier-mache + on the glass case that covered the low counter—a grave, kind-eyed + tiger that waggled his head in a methodical manner; there were several + crystal spheres, a china hand holding magic cards, a stock of magic + fish-bowls in various sizes, and an immodest magic hat that shamelessly + displayed its springs. On the floor were magic mirrors; one to draw you + out long and thin, one to swell your head and vanish your legs, and one to + make you short and fat like a draught; and while we were laughing at these + the shopman, as I suppose, came in. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, there he was behind the counter—a curious, sallow, dark + man, with one ear larger than the other and a chin like the toe-cap of a + boot. + </p> + <p> + “What can we have the pleasure?” he said, spreading his long, magic + fingers on the glass case; and so with a start we were aware of him. + </p> + <p> + “I want,” I said, “to buy my little boy a few simple tricks.” + </p> + <p> + “Legerdemain?” he asked. “Mechanical? Domestic?” + </p> + <p> + “Anything amusing?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Um!” said the shopman, and scratched his head for a moment as if + thinking. Then, quite distinctly, he drew from his head a glass ball. + “Something in this way?” he said, and held it out. + </p> + <p> + The action was unexpected. I had seen the trick done at entertainments + endless times before—it's part of the common stock of conjurers—but + I had not expected it here. + </p> + <p> + “That's good,” I said, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it?” said the shopman. + </p> + <p> + Gip stretched out his disengaged hand to take this object and found merely + a blank palm. + </p> + <p> + “It's in your pocket,” said the shopman, and there it was! + </p> + <p> + “How much will that be?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “We make no charge for glass balls,” said the shopman politely. “We get + them,”—he picked one out of his elbow as he spoke—“free.” He + produced another from the back of his neck, and laid it beside its + predecessor on the counter. Gip regarded his glass ball sagely, then + directed a look of inquiry at the two on the counter, and finally brought + his round-eyed scrutiny to the shopman, who smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You may have those too,” said the shopman, “and, if you DON'T mind, one + from my mouth. SO!” + </p> + <p> + Gip counselled me mutely for a moment, and then in a profound silence put + away the four balls, resumed my reassuring finger, and nerved himself for + the next event. + </p> + <p> + “We get all our smaller tricks in that way,” the shopman remarked. + </p> + <p> + I laughed in the manner of one who subscribes to a jest. “Instead of going + to the wholesale shop,” I said. “Of course, it's cheaper.” + </p> + <p> + “In a way,” the shopman said. “Though we pay in the end. But not so + heavily—as people suppose.... Our larger tricks, and our daily + provisions and all the other things we want, we get out of that hat... And + you know, sir, if you'll excuse my saying it, there ISN'T a wholesale + shop, not for Genuine Magic goods, sir. I don't know if you noticed our + inscription—the Genuine Magic shop.” He drew a business-card from + his cheek and handed it to me. “Genuine,” he said, with his finger on the + word, and added, “There is absolutely no deception, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be carrying out the joke pretty thoroughly, I thought. + </p> + <p> + He turned to Gip with a smile of remarkable affability. “You, you know, + are the Right Sort of Boy.” + </p> + <p> + I was surprised at his knowing that, because, in the interests of + discipline, we keep it rather a secret even at home; but Gip received it + in unflinching silence, keeping a steadfast eye on him. + </p> + <p> + “It's only the Right Sort of Boy gets through that doorway.” + </p> + <p> + And, as if by way of illustration, there came a rattling at the door, and + a squeaking little voice could be faintly heard. “Nyar! I WARN 'a go in + there, dadda, I WARN 'a go in there. Ny-a-a-ah!” and then the accents of a + down-trodden parent, urging consolations and propitiations. “It's locked, + Edward,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But it isn't,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “It is, sir,” said the shopman, “always—for that sort of child,” and + as he spoke we had a glimpse of the other youngster, a little, white face, + pallid from sweet-eating and over-sapid food, and distorted by evil + passions, a ruthless little egotist, pawing at the enchanted pane. “It's + no good, sir,” said the shopman, as I moved, with my natural helpfulness, + doorward, and presently the spoilt child was carried off howling. + </p> + <p> + “How do you manage that?” I said, breathing a little more freely. + </p> + <p> + “Magic!” said the shopman, with a careless wave of the hand, and behold! + sparks of coloured fire flew out of his fingers and vanished into the + shadows of the shop. + </p> + <p> + “You were saying,” he said, addressing himself to Gip, “before you came + in, that you would like one of our 'Buy One and Astonish your Friends' + boxes?” + </p> + <p> + Gip, after a gallant effort, said “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It's in your pocket.” + </p> + <p> + And leaning over the counter—he really had an extraordinarily long + body—this amazing person produced the article in the customary + conjurer's manner. “Paper,” he said, and took a sheet out of the empty hat + with the springs; “string,” and behold his mouth was a string-box, from + which he drew an unending thread, which when he had tied his parcel he bit + off—and, it seemed to me, swallowed the ball of string. And then he + lit a candle at the nose of one of the ventriloquist's dummies, stuck one + of his fingers (which had become sealing-wax red) into the flame, and so + sealed the parcel. “Then there was the Disappearing Egg,” he remarked, and + produced one from within my coat-breast and packed it, and also The Crying + Baby, Very Human. I handed each parcel to Gip as it was ready, and he + clasped them to his chest. + </p> + <p> + He said very little, but his eyes were eloquent; the clutch of his arms + was eloquent. He was the playground of unspeakable emotions. These, you + know, were REAL Magics. Then, with a start, I discovered something moving + about in my hat—something soft and jumpy. I whipped it off, and a + ruffled pigeon—no doubt a confederate—dropped out and ran on + the counter, and went, I fancy, into a cardboard box behind the + papier-mache tiger. + </p> + <p> + “Tut, tut!” said the shopman, dexterously relieving me of my headdress; + “careless bird, and—as I live—nesting!” + </p> + <p> + He shook my hat, and shook out into his extended hand two or three eggs, a + large marble, a watch, about half-a-dozen of the inevitable glass balls, + and then crumpled, crinkled paper, more and more and more, talking all the + time of the way in which people neglect to brush their hats INSIDE as well + as out, politely, of course, but with a certain personal application. “All + sorts of things accumulate, sir.... Not YOU, of course, in particular.... + Nearly every customer.... Astonishing what they carry about with them....” + The crumpled paper rose and billowed on the counter more and more and + more, until he was nearly hidden from us, until he was altogether hidden, + and still his voice went on and on. “We none of us know what the fair + semblance of a human being may conceal, sir. Are we all then no better + than brushed exteriors, whited sepulchres—” + </p> + <p> + His voice stopped—exactly like when you hit a neighbour's gramophone + with a well-aimed brick, the same instant silence, and the rustle of the + paper stopped, and everything was still.... + </p> + <p> + “Have you done with my hat?” I said, after an interval. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. + </p> + <p> + I stared at Gip, and Gip stared at me, and there were our distortions in + the magic mirrors, looking very rum, and grave, and quiet.... + </p> + <p> + “I think we'll go now,” I said. “Will you tell me how much all this comes + to?.... + </p> + <p> + “I say,” I said, on a rather louder note, “I want the bill; and my hat, + please.” + </p> + <p> + It might have been a sniff from behind the paper pile.... + </p> + <p> + “Let's look behind the counter, Gip,” I said. “He's making fun of us.” + </p> + <p> + I led Gip round the head-wagging tiger, and what do you think there was + behind the counter? No one at all! Only my hat on the floor, and a common + conjurer's lop-eared white rabbit lost in meditation, and looking as + stupid and crumpled as only a conjurer's rabbit can do. I resumed my hat, + and the rabbit lolloped a lollop or so out of my way. + </p> + <p> + “Dadda!” said Gip, in a guilty whisper. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Gip?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “I DO like this shop, dadda.” + </p> + <p> + “So should I,” I said to myself, “if the counter wouldn't suddenly extend + itself to shut one off from the door.” But I didn't call Gip's attention + to that. “Pussy!” he said, with a hand out to the rabbit as it came + lolloping past us; “Pussy, do Gip a magic!” and his eyes followed it as it + squeezed through a door I had certainly not remarked a moment before. Then + this door opened wider, and the man with one ear larger than the other + appeared again. He was smiling still, but his eye met mine with something + between amusement and defiance. “You'd like to see our show-room, sir,” he + said, with an innocent suavity. Gip tugged my finger forward. I glanced at + the counter and met the shopman's eye again. I was beginning to think the + magic just a little too genuine. “We haven't VERY much time,” I said. But + somehow we were inside the show-room before I could finish that. + </p> + <p> + “All goods of the same quality,” said the shopman, rubbing his flexible + hands together, “and that is the Best. Nothing in the place that isn't + genuine Magic, and warranted thoroughly rum. Excuse me, sir!” + </p> + <p> + I felt him pull at something that clung to my coat-sleeve, and then I saw + he held a little, wriggling red demon by the tail—the little + creature bit and fought and tried to get at his hand—and in a moment + he tossed it carelessly behind a counter. No doubt the thing was only an + image of twisted indiarubber, but for the moment—! And his gesture + was exactly that of a man who handles some petty biting bit of vermin. I + glanced at Gip, but Gip was looking at a magic rocking-horse. I was glad + he hadn't seen the thing. “I say,” I said, in an undertone, and indicating + Gip and the red demon with my eyes, “you haven't many things like THAT + about, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “None of ours! Probably brought it with you,” said the shopman—also + in an undertone, and with a more dazzling smile than ever. “Astonishing + what people WILL carry about with them unawares!” And then to Gip, “Do you + see anything you fancy here?” + </p> + <p> + There were many things that Gip fancied there. + </p> + <p> + He turned to this astonishing tradesman with mingled confidence and + respect. “Is that a Magic Sword?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “A Magic Toy Sword. It neither bends, breaks, nor cuts the fingers. It + renders the bearer invincible in battle against any one under eighteen. + Half-a-crown to seven and sixpence, according to size. These panoplies on + cards are for juvenile knights-errant and very useful—shield of + safety, sandals of swiftness, helmet of invisibility.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, daddy!” gasped Gip. + </p> + <p> + I tried to find out what they cost, but the shopman did not heed me. He + had got Gip now; he had got him away from my finger; he had embarked upon + the exposition of all his confounded stock, and nothing was going to stop + him. Presently I saw with a qualm of distrust and something very like + jealousy that Gip had hold of this person's finger as usually he has hold + of mine. No doubt the fellow was interesting, I thought, and had an + interestingly faked lot of stuff, really GOOD faked stuff, still— + </p> + <p> + I wandered after them, saying very little, but keeping an eye on this + prestidigital fellow. After all, Gip was enjoying it. And no doubt when + the time came to go we should be able to go quite easily. + </p> + <p> + It was a long, rambling place, that show-room, a gallery broken up by + stands and stalls and pillars, with archways leading off to other + departments, in which the queerest-looking assistants loafed and stared at + one, and with perplexing mirrors and curtains. So perplexing, indeed, were + these that I was presently unable to make out the door by which we had + come. + </p> + <p> + The shopman showed Gip magic trains that ran without steam or clockwork, + just as you set the signals, and then some very, very valuable boxes of + soldiers that all came alive directly you took off the lid and said—. + I myself haven't a very quick ear and it was a tongue-twisting sound, but + Gip—he has his mother's ear—got it in no time. “Bravo!” said + the shopman, putting the men back into the box unceremoniously and handing + it to Gip. “Now,” said the shopman, and in a moment Gip had made them all + alive again. + </p> + <p> + “You'll take that box?” asked the shopman. + </p> + <p> + “We'll take that box,” said I, “unless you charge its full value. In which + case it would need a Trust Magnate—” + </p> + <p> + “Dear heart! NO!” and the shopman swept the little men back again, shut + the lid, waved the box in the air, and there it was, in brown paper, tied + up and—WITH GIP'S FULL NAME AND ADDRESS ON THE PAPER! + </p> + <p> + The shopman laughed at my amazement. + </p> + <p> + “This is the genuine magic,” he said. “The real thing.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a little too genuine for my taste,” I said again. + </p> + <p> + After that he fell to showing Gip tricks, odd tricks, and still odder the + way they were done. He explained them, he turned them inside out, and + there was the dear little chap nodding his busy bit of a head in the + sagest manner. + </p> + <p> + I did not attend as well as I might. “Hey, presto!” said the Magic + Shopman, and then would come the clear, small “Hey, presto!” of the boy. + But I was distracted by other things. It was being borne in upon me just + how tremendously rum this place was; it was, so to speak, inundated by a + sense of rumness. There was something a little rum about the fixtures + even, about the ceiling, about the floor, about the casually distributed + chairs. I had a queer feeling that whenever I wasn't looking at them + straight they went askew, and moved about, and played a noiseless + puss-in-the-corner behind my back. And the cornice had a serpentine design + with masks—masks altogether too expressive for proper plaster. + </p> + <p> + Then abruptly my attention was caught by one of the odd-looking + assistants. He was some way off and evidently unaware of my presence—I + saw a sort of three-quarter length of him over a pile of toys and through + an arch—and, you know, he was leaning against a pillar in an idle + sort of way doing the most horrid things with his features! The particular + horrid thing he did was with his nose. He did it just as though he was + idle and wanted to amuse himself. First of all it was a short, blobby + nose, and then suddenly he shot it out like a telescope, and then out it + flew and became thinner and thinner until it was like a long, red, + flexible whip. Like a thing in a nightmare it was! He flourished it about + and flung it forth as a fly-fisher flings his line. + </p> + <p> + My instant thought was that Gip mustn't see him. I turned about, and there + was Gip quite preoccupied with the shopman, and thinking no evil. They + were whispering together and looking at me. Gip was standing on a little + stool, and the shopman was holding a sort of big drum in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Hide and seek, dadda!” cried Gip. “You're He!” + </p> + <p> + And before I could do anything to prevent it, the shopman had clapped the + big drum over him. I saw what was up directly. “Take that off,” I cried, + “this instant! You'll frighten the boy. Take it off!” + </p> + <p> + The shopman with the unequal ears did so without a word, and held the big + cylinder towards me to show its emptiness. And the little stool was + vacant! In that instant my boy had utterly disappeared?... + </p> + <p> + You know, perhaps, that sinister something that comes like a hand out of + the unseen and grips your heart about. You know it takes your common self + away and leaves you tense and deliberate, neither slow nor hasty, neither + angry nor afraid. So it was with me. + </p> + <p> + I came up to this grinning shopman and kicked his stool aside. + </p> + <p> + “Stop this folly!” I said. “Where is my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he said, still displaying the drum's interior, “there is no + deception—-” + </p> + <p> + I put out my hand to grip him, and he eluded me by a dexterous movement. I + snatched again, and he turned from me and pushed open a door to escape. + “Stop!” I said, and he laughed, receding. I leapt after him—into + utter darkness. + </p> + <p> + THUD! + </p> + <p> + “Lor' bless my 'eart! I didn't see you coming, sir!” + </p> + <p> + I was in Regent Street, and I had collided with a decent-looking working + man; and a yard away, perhaps, and looking a little perplexed with + himself, was Gip. There was some sort of apology, and then Gip had turned + and come to me with a bright little smile, as though for a moment he had + missed me. + </p> + <p> + And he was carrying four parcels in his arm! + </p> + <p> + He secured immediate possession of my finger. + </p> + <p> + For the second I was rather at a loss. I stared round to see the door of + the magic shop, and, behold, it was not there! There was no door, no shop, + nothing, only the common pilaster between the shop where they sell + pictures and the window with the chicks!... + </p> + <p> + I did the only thing possible in that mental tumult; I walked straight to + the kerbstone and held up my umbrella for a cab. + </p> + <p> + “'Ansoms,” said Gip, in a note of culminating exultation. + </p> + <p> + I helped him in, recalled my address with an effort, and got in also. + Something unusual proclaimed itself in my tail-coat pocket, and I felt and + discovered a glass ball. With a petulant expression I flung it into the + street. + </p> + <p> + Gip said nothing. + </p> + <p> + For a space neither of us spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Dada!” said Gip, at last, “that WAS a proper shop!” + </p> + <p> + I came round with that to the problem of just how the whole thing had + seemed to him. He looked completely undamaged—so far, good; he was + neither scared nor unhinged, he was simply tremendously satisfied with the + afternoon's entertainment, and there in his arms were the four parcels. + </p> + <p> + Confound it! what could be in them? + </p> + <p> + “Um!” I said. “Little boys can't go to shops like that every day.” + </p> + <p> + He received this with his usual stoicism, and for a moment I was sorry I + was his father and not his mother, and so couldn't suddenly there, coram + publico, in our hansom, kiss him. After all, I thought, the thing wasn't + so very bad. + </p> + <p> + But it was only when we opened the parcels that I really began to be + reassured. Three of them contained boxes of soldiers, quite ordinary lead + soldiers, but of so good a quality as to make Gip altogether forget that + originally these parcels had been Magic Tricks of the only genuine sort, + and the fourth contained a kitten, a little living white kitten, in + excellent health and appetite and temper. + </p> + <p> + I saw this unpacking with a sort of provisional relief. I hung about in + the nursery for quite an unconscionable time.... + </p> + <p> + That happened six months ago. And now I am beginning to believe it is all + right. The kitten had only the magic natural to all kittens, and the + soldiers seem as steady a company as any colonel could desire. And Gip—? + </p> + <p> + The intelligent parent will understand that I have to go cautiously with + Gip. + </p> + <p> + But I went so far as this one day. I said, “How would you like your + soldiers to come alive, Gip, and march about by themselves?” + </p> + <p> + “Mine do,” said Gip. “I just have to say a word I know before I open the + lid.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they march about alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, QUITE, dadda. I shouldn't like them if they didn't do that.” + </p> + <p> + I displayed no unbecoming surprise, and since then I have taken occasion + to drop in upon him once or twice, unannounced, when the soldiers were + about, but so far I have never discovered them performing in anything like + a magical manner. + </p> + <p> + It's so difficult to tell. + </p> + <p> + There's also a question of finance. I have an incurable habit of paying + bills. I have been up and down Regent Street several times, looking for + that shop. I am inclined to think, indeed, that in that matter honour is + satisfied, and that, since Gip's name and address are known to them, I may + very well leave it to these people, whoever they may be, to send in their + bill in their own time. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 3. THE VALLEY OF SPIDERS + </h2> + <p> + Towards mid-day the three pursuers came abruptly round a bend in the + torrent bed upon the sight of a very broad and spacious valley. The + difficult and winding trench of pebbles along which they had tracked the + fugitives for so long, expanded to a broad slope, and with a common + impulse the three men left the trail, and rode to a little eminence set + with olive-dun trees, and there halted, the two others, as became them, a + little behind the man with the silver-studded bridle. + </p> + <p> + For a space they scanned the great expanse below them with eager eyes. It + spread remoter and remoter, with only a few clusters of sere thorn bushes + here and there, and the dim suggestions of some now waterless ravine, to + break its desolation of yellow grass. Its purple distances melted at last + into the bluish slopes of the further hills—hills it might be of a + greener kind—and above them invisibly supported, and seeming indeed + to hang in the blue, were the snowclad summits of mountains that grew + larger and bolder to the north-westward as the sides of the valley drew + together. And westward the valley opened until a distant darkness under + the sky told where the forests began. But the three men looked neither + east nor west, but only steadfastly across the valley. + </p> + <p> + The gaunt man with the scarred lip was the first to speak. “Nowhere,” he + said, with a sigh of disappointment in his voice. “But after all, they had + a full day's start.” + </p> + <p> + “They don't know we are after them,” said the little man on the white + horse. + </p> + <p> + “SHE would know,” said the leader bitterly, as if speaking to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Even then they can't go fast. They've got no beast but the mule, and all + to-day the girl's foot has been bleeding—-” + </p> + <p> + The man with the silver bridle flashed a quick intensity of rage on him. + “Do you think I haven't seen that?” he snarled. + </p> + <p> + “It helps, anyhow,” whispered the little man to himself. + </p> + <p> + The gaunt man with the scarred lip stared impassively. “They can't be over + the valley,” he said. “If we ride hard—” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at the white horse and paused. + </p> + <p> + “Curse all white horses!” said the man with the silver bridle, and turned + to scan the beast his curse included. + </p> + <p> + The little man looked down between the melancholy ears of his steed. + </p> + <p> + “I did my best,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The two others stared again across the valley for a space. The gaunt man + passed the back of his hand across the scarred lip. + </p> + <p> + “Come up!” said the man who owned the silver bridle, suddenly. The little + man started and jerked his rein, and the horse hoofs of the three made a + multitudinous faint pattering upon the withered grass as they turned back + towards the trail.... + </p> + <p> + They rode cautiously down the long slope before them, and so came through + a waste of prickly, twisted bushes and strange dry shapes of horny + branches that grew amongst the rocks, into the levels below. And there the + trail grew faint, for the soil was scanty, and the only herbage was this + scorched dead straw that lay upon the ground. Still, by hard scanning, by + leaning beside the horses' necks and pausing ever and again, even these + white men could contrive to follow after their prey. + </p> + <p> + There were trodden places, bent and broken blades of the coarse grass, and + ever and again the sufficient intimation of a footmark. And once the + leader saw a brown smear of blood where the half-caste girl may have trod. + And at that under his breath he cursed her for a fool. + </p> + <p> + The gaunt man checked his leader's tracking, and the little man on the + white horse rode behind, a man lost in a dream. They rode one after + another, the man with the silver bridle led the way, and they spoke never + a word. After a time it came to the little man on the white horse that the + world was very still. He started out of his dream. Besides the little + noises of their horses and equipment, the whole great valley kept the + brooding quiet of a painted scene. + </p> + <p> + Before him went his master and his fellow, each intently leaning forward + to the left, each impassively moving with the paces of his horse; their + shadows went before them—still, noiseless, tapering attendants; and + nearer a crouched cool shape was his own. He looked about him. What was it + had gone? Then he remembered the reverberation from the banks of the gorge + and the perpetual accompaniment of shifting, jostling pebbles. And, + moreover—? There was no breeze. That was it! What a vast, still + place it was, a monotonous afternoon slumber. And the sky open and blank, + except for a sombre veil of haze that had gathered in the upper valley. + </p> + <p> + He straightened his back, fretted with his bridle, puckered his lips to + whistle, and simply sighed. He turned in his saddle for a time, and stared + at the throat of the mountain gorge out of which they had come. Blank! + Blank slopes on either side, with never a sign of a decent beast or tree—much + less a man. What a land it was! What a wilderness! He dropped again into + his former pose. + </p> + <p> + It filled him with a momentary pleasure to see a wry stick of purple black + flash out into the form of a snake, and vanish amidst the brown. After + all, the infernal valley WAS alive. And then, to rejoice him still more, + came a little breath across his face, a whisper that came and went, the + faintest inclination of a stiff black-antlered bush upon a little crest, + the first intimations of a possible breeze. Idly he wetted his finger, and + held it up. + </p> + <p> + He pulled up sharply to avoid a collision with the gaunt man, who had + stopped at fault upon the trail. Just at that guilty moment he caught his + master's eye looking towards him. + </p> + <p> + For a time he forced an interest in the tracking. Then, as they rode on + again, he studied his master's shadow and hat and shoulder, appearing and + disappearing behind the gaunt man's nearer contours. They had ridden four + days out of the very limits of the world into this desolate place, short + of water, with nothing but a strip of dried meat under their saddles, over + rocks and mountains, where surely none but these fugitives had ever been + before—for THAT! + </p> + <p> + And all this was for a girl, a mere wilful child! And the man had whole + cityfuls of people to do his basest bidding—girls, women! Why in the + name of passionate folly THIS one in particular? asked the little man, and + scowled at the world, and licked his parched lips with a blackened tongue. + It was the way of the master, and that was all he knew. Just because she + sought to evade him.... + </p> + <p> + His eye caught a whole row of high plumed canes bending in unison, and + then the tails of silk that hung before his neck flapped and fell. The + breeze was growing stronger. Somehow it took the stiff stillness out of + things—and that was well. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” said the gaunt man. + </p> + <p> + All three stopped abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked the master. “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Over there,” said the gaunt man, pointing up the valley. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Something coming towards us.” + </p> + <p> + And as he spoke a yellow animal crested a rise and came bearing down upon + them. It was a big wild dog, coming before the wind, tongue out, at a + steady pace, and running with such an intensity of purpose that he did not + seem to see the horsemen he approached. He ran with his nose up, + following, it was plain, neither scent nor quarry. As he drew nearer the + little man felt for his sword. “He's mad,” said the gaunt rider. + </p> + <p> + “Shout!” said the little man, and shouted. + </p> + <p> + The dog came on. Then when the little man's blade was already out, it + swerved aside and went panting by them and past. The eyes of the little + man followed its flight. “There was no foam,” he said. For a space the man + with the silver-studded bridle stared up the valley. “Oh, come on!” he + cried at last. “What does it matter?” and jerked his horse into movement + again. + </p> + <p> + The little man left the insoluble mystery of a dog that fled from nothing + but the wind, and lapsed into profound musings on human character. “Come + on!” he whispered to himself. “Why should it be given to one man to say + 'Come on!' with that stupendous violence of effect. Always, all his life, + the man with the silver bridle has been saying that. If <i>I</i> said it—!” + thought the little man. But people marvelled when the master was disobeyed + even in the wildest things. This half-caste girl seemed to him, seemed to + every one, mad—blasphemous almost. The little man, by way of + comparison, reflected on the gaunt rider with the scarred lip, as stalwart + as his master, as brave and, indeed, perhaps braver, and yet for him there + was obedience, nothing but to give obedience duly and stoutly... + </p> + <p> + Certain sensations of the hands and knees called the little man back to + more immediate things. He became aware of something. He rode up beside his + gaunt fellow. “Do you notice the horses?” he said in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + The gaunt face looked interrogation. + </p> + <p> + “They don't like this wind,” said the little man, and dropped behind as + the man with the silver bridle turned upon him. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” said the gaunt-faced man. + </p> + <p> + They rode on again for a space in silence. The foremost two rode downcast + upon the trail, the hindmost man watched the haze that crept down the + vastness of the valley, nearer and nearer, and noted how the wind grew in + strength moment by moment. Far away on the left he saw a line of dark + bulks—wild hog perhaps, galloping down the valley, but of that he + said nothing, nor did he remark again upon the uneasiness of the horses. + </p> + <p> + And then he saw first one and then a second great white ball, a great + shining white ball like a gigantic head of thistle-down, that drove before + the wind athwart the path. These balls soared high in the air, and dropped + and rose again and caught for a moment, and hurried on and passed, but at + the sight of them the restlessness of the horses increased. + </p> + <p> + Then presently he saw that more of these drifting globes—and then + soon very many more—were hurrying towards him down the valley. + </p> + <p> + They became aware of a squealing. Athwart the path a huge boar rushed, + turning his head but for one instant to glance at them, and then hurling + on down the valley again. And at that, all three stopped and sat in their + saddles, staring into the thickening haze that was coming upon them. + </p> + <p> + “If it were not for this thistle-down—” began the leader. + </p> + <p> + But now a big globe came drifting past within a score of yards of them. It + was really not an even sphere at all, but a vast, soft, ragged, filmy + thing, a sheet gathered by the corners, an aerial jelly-fish, as it were, + but rolling over and over as it advanced, and trailing long, cobwebby + threads and streamers that floated in its wake. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't thistle-down,” said the little man. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like the stuff,” said the gaunt man. + </p> + <p> + And they looked at one another. + </p> + <p> + “Curse it!” cried the leader. “The air's full of it up there. If it keeps + on at this pace long, it will stop us altogether.” + </p> + <p> + An instinctive feeling, such as lines out a herd of deer at the approach + of some ambiguous thing, prompted them to turn their horses to the wind, + ride forward for a few paces, and stare at that advancing multitude of + floating masses. They came on before the wind with a sort of smooth + swiftness, rising and falling noiselessly, sinking to earth, rebounding + high, soaring—all with a perfect unanimity, with a still, deliberate + assurance. + </p> + <p> + Right and left of the horsemen the pioneers of this strange army passed. + At one that rolled along the ground, breaking shapelessly and trailing out + reluctantly into long grappling ribbons and bands, all three horses began + to shy and dance. The master was seized with a sudden unreasonable + impatience. He cursed the drifting globes roundly. “Get on!” he cried; + “get on! What do these things matter? How CAN they matter? Back to the + trail!” He fell swearing at his horse and sawed the bit across its mouth. + </p> + <p> + He shouted aloud with rage. “I will follow that trail, I tell you!” he + cried. “Where is the trail?” + </p> + <p> + He gripped the bridle of his prancing horse and searched amidst the grass. + A long and clinging thread fell across his face, a grey streamer dropped + about his bridle-arm, some big, active thing with many legs ran down the + back of his head. He looked up to discover one of those grey masses + anchored as it were above him by these things and flapping out ends as a + sail flaps when a boat comes, about—but noiselessly. + </p> + <p> + He had an impression of many eyes, of a dense crew of squat bodies, of + long, many-jointed limbs hauling at their mooring ropes to bring the thing + down upon him. For a space he stared up, reining in his prancing horse + with the instinct born of years of horsemanship. Then the flat of a sword + smote his back, and a blade flashed overhead and cut the drifting balloon + of spider-web free, and the whole mass lifted softly and drove clear and + away. + </p> + <p> + “Spiders!” cried the voice of the gaunt man. “The things are full of big + spiders! Look, my lord!” + </p> + <p> + The man with the silver bridle still followed the mass that drove away. + </p> + <p> + “Look, my lord!” + </p> + <p> + The master found himself staring down at a red, smashed thing on the + ground that, in spite of partial obliteration, could still wriggle + unavailing legs. Then when the gaunt man pointed to another mass that bore + down upon them, he drew his sword hastily. Up the valley now it was like a + fog bank torn to rags. He tried to grasp the situation. + </p> + <p> + “Ride for it!” the little man was shouting. “Ride for it down the valley.” + </p> + <p> + What happened then was like the confusion of a battle. The man with the + silver bridle saw the little man go past him slashing furiously at + imaginary cobwebs, saw him cannon into the horse of the gaunt man and hurl + it and its rider to earth. His own horse went a dozen paces before he + could rein it in. Then he looked up to avoid imaginary dangers, and then + back again to see a horse rolling on the ground, the gaunt man standing + and slashing over it at a rent and fluttering mass of grey that streamed + and wrapped about them both. And thick and fast as thistle-down on waste + land on a windy day in July, the cobweb masses were coming on. + </p> + <p> + The little man had dismounted, but he dared not release his horse. He was + endeavouring to lug the struggling brute back with the strength of one + arm, while with the other he slashed aimlessly, The tentacles of a second + grey mass had entangled themselves with the struggle, and this second grey + mass came to its moorings, and slowly sank. + </p> + <p> + The master set his teeth, gripped his bridle, lowered his head, and + spurred his horse forward. The horse on the ground rolled over, there were + blood and moving shapes upon the flanks, and the gaunt man, suddenly + leaving it, ran forward towards his master, perhaps ten paces. His legs + were swathed and encumbered with grey; he made ineffectual movements with + his sword. Grey streamers waved from him; there was a thin veil of grey + across his face. With his left hand he beat at something on his body, and + suddenly he stumbled and fell. He struggled to rise, and fell again, and + suddenly, horribly, began to howl, “Oh—ohoo, ohooh!” + </p> + <p> + The master could see the great spiders upon him, and others upon the + ground. + </p> + <p> + As he strove to force his horse nearer to this gesticulating, screaming + grey object that struggled up and down, there came a clatter of hoofs, and + the little man, in act of mounting, swordless, balanced on his belly + athwart the white horse, and clutching its mane, whirled past. And again a + clinging thread of grey gossamer swept across the master's face. All about + him, and over him, it seemed this drifting, noiseless cobweb circled and + drew nearer him.... + </p> + <p> + To the day of his death he never knew just how the event of that moment + happened. Did he, indeed, turn his horse, or did it really of its own + accord stampede after its fellow? Suffice it that in another second he was + galloping full tilt down the valley with his sword whirling furiously + overhead. And all about him on the quickening breeze, the spiders' + airships, their air bundles and air sheets, seemed to him to hurry in a + conscious pursuit. + </p> + <p> + Clatter, clatter, thud, thud—the man with the silver bridle rode, + heedless of his direction, with his fearful face looking up now right, now + left, and his sword arm ready to slash. And a few hundred yards ahead of + him, with a tail of torn cobweb trailing behind him, rode the little man + on the white horse, still but imperfectly in the saddle. The reeds bent + before them, the wind blew fresh and strong, over his shoulder the master + could see the webs hurrying to overtake.... + </p> + <p> + He was so intent to escape the spiders' webs that only as his horse + gathered together for a leap did he realise the ravine ahead. And then he + realised it only to misunderstand and interfere. He was leaning forward on + his horse's neck and sat up and back all too late. + </p> + <p> + But if in his excitement he had failed to leap, at any rate he had not + forgotten how to fall. He was horseman again in mid-air. He came off clear + with a mere bruise upon his shoulder, and his horse rolled, kicking + spasmodic legs, and lay still. But the master's sword drove its point into + the hard soil, and snapped clean across, as though Chance refused him any + longer as her Knight, and the splintered end missed his face by an inch or + so. + </p> + <p> + He was on his feet in a moment, breathlessly scanning the onrushing + spider-webs. For a moment he was minded to run, and then thought of the + ravine, and turned back. He ran aside once to dodge one drifting terror, + and then he was swiftly clambering down the precipitous sides, and out of + the touch of the gale. + </p> + <p> + There under the lee of the dry torrent's steeper banks he might crouch, + and watch these strange, grey masses pass and pass in safety till the wind + fell, and it became possible to escape. And there for a long time he + crouched, watching the strange, grey, ragged masses trail their streamers + across his narrowed sky. + </p> + <p> + Once a stray spider fell into the ravine close beside him—a full + foot it measured from leg to leg, and its body was half a man's hand—and + after he had watched its monstrous alacrity of search and escape for a + little while, and tempted it to bite his broken sword, he lifted up his + iron-heeled boot and smashed it into a pulp. He swore as he did so, and + for a time sought up and down for another. + </p> + <p> + Then presently, when he was surer these spider swarms could not drop into + the ravine, he found a place where he could sit down, and sat and fell + into deep thought and began after his manner to gnaw his knuckles and bite + his nails. And from this he was moved by the coming of the man with the + white horse. + </p> + <p> + He heard him long before he saw him, as a clattering of hoofs, stumbling + footsteps, and a reassuring voice. Then the little man appeared, a rueful + figure, still with a tail of white cobweb trailing behind him. They + approached each other without speaking, without a salutation. The little + man was fatigued and shamed to the pitch of hopeless bitterness, and came + to a stop at last, face to face with his seated master. The latter winced + a little under his dependant's eye. “Well?” he said at last, with no + pretence of authority. + </p> + <p> + “You left him?” + </p> + <p> + “My horse bolted.” + </p> + <p> + “I know. So did mine.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed at his master mirthlessly. + </p> + <p> + “I say my horse bolted,” said the man who once had a silver-studded + bridle. + </p> + <p> + “Cowards both,” said the little man. + </p> + <p> + The other gnawed his knuckle through some meditative moments, with his eye + on his inferior. + </p> + <p> + “Don't call me a coward,” he said at length. + </p> + <p> + “You are a coward like myself.” + </p> + <p> + “A coward possibly. There is a limit beyond which every man must fear. + That I have learnt at last. But not like yourself. That is where the + difference comes in.” + </p> + <p> + “I never could have dreamt you would have left him. He saved your life two + minutes before.... Why are you our lord?” + </p> + <p> + The master gnawed his knuckles again, and his countenance was dark. + </p> + <p> + “No man calls me a coward,” he said. “No. A broken sword is better than + none.... One spavined white horse cannot be expected to carry two men a + four days' journey. I hate white horses, but this time it cannot be + helped. You begin to understand me?... I perceive that you are minded, on + the strength of what you have seen and fancy, to taint my reputation. It + is men of your sort who unmake kings. Besides which—I never liked + you.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord!” said the little man. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the master. “NO!” + </p> + <p> + He stood up sharply as the little man moved. For a minute perhaps they + faced one another. Overhead the spiders' balls went driving. There was a + quick movement among the pebbles; a running of feet, a cry of despair, a + gasp and a blow.... + </p> + <p> + Towards nightfall the wind fell. The sun set in a calm serenity, and the + man who had once possessed the silver bridle came at last very cautiously + and by an easy slope out of the ravine again; but now he led the white + horse that once belonged to the little man. He would have gone back to his + horse to get his silver-mounted bridle again, but he feared night and a + quickening breeze might still find him in the valley, and besides he + disliked greatly to think he might discover his horse all swathed in + cobwebs and perhaps unpleasantly eaten. + </p> + <p> + And as he thought of those cobwebs and of all the dangers he had been + through, and the manner in which he had been preserved that day, his hand + sought a little reliquary that hung about his neck, and he clasped it for + a moment with heartfelt gratitude. As he did so his eyes went across the + valley. + </p> + <p> + “I was hot with passion,” he said, “and now she has met her reward. They + also, no doubt—” + </p> + <p> + And behold! Far away out of the wooded slopes across the valley, but in + the clearness of the sunset distinct and unmistakable, he saw a little + spire of smoke. + </p> + <p> + At that his expression of serene resignation changed to an amazed anger. + Smoke? He turned the head of the white horse about, and hesitated. And as + he did so a little rustle of air went through the grass about him. Far + away upon some reeds swayed a tattered sheet of grey. He looked at the + cobwebs; he looked at the smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, after all, it is not them,” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + But he knew better. + </p> + <p> + After he had stared at the smoke for some time, he mounted the white + horse. + </p> + <p> + As he rode, he picked his way amidst stranded masses of web. For some + reason there were many dead spiders on the ground, and those that lived + feasted guiltily on their fellows. At the sound of his horse's hoofs they + fled. + </p> + <p> + Their time had passed. From the ground without either a wind to carry them + or a winding sheet ready, these things, for all their poison, could do him + little evil. He flicked with his belt at those he fancied came too near. + Once, where a number ran together over a bare place, he was minded to + dismount and trample them with his boots, but this impulse he overcame. + Ever and again he turned in his saddle, and looked back at the smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Spiders,” he muttered over and over again. “Spiders! Well, well.... The + next time I must spin a web.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 4. THE TRUTH ABOUT PYECRAFT + </h2> + <p> + He sits not a dozen yards away. If I glance over my shoulder I can see + him. And if I catch his eye—and usually I catch his eye—it + meets me with an expression. + </p> + <p> + It is mainly an imploring look—and yet with suspicion in it. + </p> + <p> + Confound his suspicion! If I wanted to tell on him I should have told long + ago. I don't tell and I don't tell, and he ought to feel at his ease. As + if anything so gross and fat as he could feel at ease! Who would believe + me if I did tell? + </p> + <p> + Poor old Pyecraft! Great, uneasy jelly of substance! The fattest clubman + in London. + </p> + <p> + He sits at one of the little club tables in the huge bay by the fire, + stuffing. What is he stuffing? I glance judiciously and catch him biting + at a round of hot buttered tea-cake, with his eyes on me. Confound him!—with + his eyes on me! + </p> + <p> + That settles it, Pyecraft! Since you WILL be abject, since you WILL behave + as though I was not a man of honour, here, right under your embedded eyes, + I write the thing down—the plain truth about Pyecraft. The man I + helped, the man I shielded, and who has requited me by making my club + unendurable, absolutely unendurable, with his liquid appeal, with the + perpetual “don't tell” of his looks. + </p> + <p> + And, besides, why does he keep on eternally eating? + </p> + <p> + Well, here goes for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth! + </p> + <p> + Pyecraft—. I made the acquaintance of Pyecraft in this very + smoking-room. I was a young, nervous new member, and he saw it. I was + sitting all alone, wishing I knew more of the members, and suddenly he + came, a great rolling front of chins and abdomina, towards me, and grunted + and sat down in a chair close by me and wheezed for a space, and scraped + for a space with a match and lit a cigar, and then addressed me. I forget + what he said—something about the matches not lighting properly, and + afterwards as he talked he kept stopping the waiters one by one as they + went by, and telling them about the matches in that thin, fluty voice he + has. But, anyhow, it was in some such way we began our talking. + </p> + <p> + He talked about various things and came round to games. And thence to my + figure and complexion. “YOU ought to be a good cricketer,” he said. I + suppose I am slender, slender to what some people would call lean, and I + suppose I am rather dark, still—I am not ashamed of having a Hindu + great-grandmother, but, for all that, I don't want casual strangers to see + through me at a glance to HER. So that I was set against Pyecraft from the + beginning. + </p> + <p> + But he only talked about me in order to get to himself. + </p> + <p> + “I expect,” he said, “you take no more exercise than I do, and probably + you eat no less.” (Like all excessively obese people he fancied he ate + nothing.) “Yet,”—and he smiled an oblique smile—“we differ.” + </p> + <p> + And then he began to talk about his fatness and his fatness; all he did + for his fatness and all he was going to do for his fatness; what people + had advised him to do for his fatness and what he had heard of people + doing for fatness similar to his. “A priori,” he said, “one would think a + question of nutrition could be answered by dietary and a question of + assimilation by drugs.” It was stifling. It was dumpling talk. It made me + feel swelled to hear him. + </p> + <p> + One stands that sort of thing once in a way at a club, but a time came + when I fancied I was standing too much. He took to me altogether too + conspicuously. I could never go into the smoking-room but he would come + wallowing towards me, and sometimes he came and gormandised round and + about me while I had my lunch. He seemed at times almost to be clinging to + me. He was a bore, but not so fearful a bore as to be limited to me; and + from the first there was something in his manner—almost as though he + knew, almost as though he penetrated to the fact that I MIGHT—that + there was a remote, exceptional chance in me that no one else presented. + </p> + <p> + “I'd give anything to get it down,” he would say—“anything,” and + peer at me over his vast cheeks and pant. + </p> + <p> + Poor old Pyecraft! He has just gonged, no doubt to order another buttered + tea-cake! + </p> + <p> + He came to the actual thing one day. “Our Pharmacopoeia,” he said, “our + Western Pharmacopoeia, is anything but the last word of medical science. + In the East, I've been told—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and stared at me. It was like being at an aquarium. + </p> + <p> + I was quite suddenly angry with him. “Look here,” I said, “who told you + about my great-grandmother's recipes?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he fenced. + </p> + <p> + “Every time we've met for a week,” I said, “and we've met pretty often—you've + given me a broad hint or so about that little secret of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “now the cat's out of the bag, I'll admit, yes, it is so. + I had it—” + </p> + <p> + “From Pattison?” + </p> + <p> + “Indirectly,” he said, which I believe was lying, “yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Pattison,” I said, “took that stuff at his own risk.” + </p> + <p> + He pursed his mouth and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “My great-grandmother's recipes,” I said, “are queer things to handle. My + father was near making me promise—” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But he warned me. He himself used one—once.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!... But do you think—? Suppose—suppose there did happen to + be one—” + </p> + <p> + “The things are curious documents,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Even the smell of 'em.... No!” + </p> + <p> + But after going so far Pyecraft was resolved I should go farther. I was + always a little afraid if I tried his patience too much he would fall on + me suddenly and smother me. I own I was weak. But I was also annoyed with + Pyecraft. I had got to that state of feeling for him that disposed me to + say, “Well, TAKE the risk!” The little affair of Pattison to which I have + alluded was a different matter altogether. What it was doesn't concern us + now, but I knew, anyhow, that the particular recipe I used then was safe. + The rest I didn't know so much about, and, on the whole, I was inclined to + doubt their safety pretty completely. + </p> + <p> + Yet even if Pyecraft got poisoned— + </p> + <p> + I must confess the poisoning of Pyecraft struck me as an immense + undertaking. + </p> + <p> + That evening I took that queer, odd-scented sandalwood box out of my safe + and turned the rustling skins over. The gentleman who wrote the recipes + for my great-grandmother evidently had a weakness for skins of a + miscellaneous origin, and his handwriting was cramped to the last degree. + Some of the things are quite unreadable to me—though my family, with + its Indian Civil Service associations, has kept up a knowledge of + Hindustani from generation to generation—and none are absolutely + plain sailing. But I found the one that I knew was there soon enough, and + sat on the floor by my safe for some time looking at it. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said I to Pyecraft next day, and snatched the slip away from + his eager grasp. + </p> + <p> + “So far as I—can make it out, this is a recipe for Loss of Weight. + (“Ah!” said Pyecraft.) I'm not absolutely sure, but I think it's that. And + if you take my advice you'll leave it alone. Because, you know—I + blacken my blood in your interest, Pyecraft—my ancestors on that + side were, so far as I can gather, a jolly queer lot. See?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me try it,” said Pyecraft. + </p> + <p> + I leant back in my chair. My imagination made one mighty effort and fell + flat within me. “What in Heaven's name, Pyecraft,” I asked, “do you think + you'll look like when you get thin?” + </p> + <p> + He was impervious to reason. I made him promise never to say a word to me + about his disgusting fatness again whatever happened—never, and then + I handed him that little piece of skin. + </p> + <p> + “It's nasty stuff,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” he said, and took it. + </p> + <p> + He goggled at it. “But—but—” he said. + </p> + <p> + He had just discovered that it wasn't English. + </p> + <p> + “To the best of my ability,” I said, “I will do you a translation.” + </p> + <p> + I did my best. After that we didn't speak for a fortnight. Whenever he + approached me I frowned and motioned him away, and he respected our + compact, but at the end of a fortnight he was as fat as ever. And then he + got a word in. + </p> + <p> + “I must speak,” he said. “It isn't fair. There's something wrong. It's + done me no good. You're not doing your great-grandmother justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the recipe?” + </p> + <p> + He produced it gingerly from his pocket-book. + </p> + <p> + I ran my eye over the items. “Was the egg addled?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. Ought it to have been?” + </p> + <p> + “That,” I said, “goes without saying in all my poor dear + great-grandmother's recipes. When condition or quality is not specified + you must get the worst. She was drastic or nothing.... And there's one or + two possible alternatives to some of these other things. You got FRESH + rattlesnake venom.” + </p> + <p> + “I got a rattlesnake from Jamrach's. It cost—it cost—” + </p> + <p> + “That's your affair, anyhow. This last item—” + </p> + <p> + “I know a man who—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. H'm. Well, I'll write the alternatives down. So far as I know the + language, the spelling of this recipe is particularly atrocious. + By-the-bye, dog here probably means pariah dog.” + </p> + <p> + For a month after that I saw Pyecraft constantly at the club and as fat + and anxious as ever. He kept our treaty, but at times he broke the spirit + of it by shaking his head despondently. Then one day in the cloakroom he + said, “Your great-grandmother—” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word against her,” I said; and he held his peace. + </p> + <p> + I could have fancied he had desisted, and I saw him one day talking to + three new members about his fatness as though he was in search of other + recipes. And then, quite unexpectedly, his telegram came. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Formalyn!” bawled a page-boy under my nose, and I took the telegram + and opened it at once. + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven's sake come.—Pyecraft.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm,” said I, and to tell the truth I was so pleased at the + rehabilitation of my great grandmother's reputation this evidently + promised that I made a most excellent lunch. + </p> + <p> + I got Pyecraft's address from the hall porter. Pyecraft inhabited the + upper half of a house in Bloomsbury, and I went there so soon as I had + done my coffee and Trappistine. I did not wait to finish my cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pyecraft?” said I, at the front door. + </p> + <p> + They believed he was ill; he hadn't been out for two days. + </p> + <p> + “He expects me,” said I, and they sent me up. + </p> + <p> + I rang the bell at the lattice-door upon the landing. + </p> + <p> + “He shouldn't have tried it, anyhow,” I said to myself. “A man who eats + like a pig ought to look like a pig.” + </p> + <p> + An obviously worthy woman, with an anxious face and a carelessly placed + cap, came and surveyed me through the lattice. + </p> + <p> + I gave my name and she let me in in a dubious fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said I, as we stood together inside Pyecraft's piece of the + landing. + </p> + <p> + “'E said you was to come in if you came,” she said, and regarded me, + making no motion to show me anywhere. And then, confidentially, “'E's + locked in, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Locked in?” + </p> + <p> + “Locked himself in yesterday morning and 'asn't let any one in since, sir. + And ever and again SWEARING. Oh, my!” + </p> + <p> + I stared at the door she indicated by her glances. + </p> + <p> + “In there?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What's up?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head sadly, “'E keeps on calling for vittles, sir. 'EAVY + vittles 'e wants. I get 'im what I can. Pork 'e's 'ad, sooit puddin', + sossiges, noo bread. Everythink like that. Left outside, if you please, + and me go away. 'E's eatin', sir, somethink AWFUL.” + </p> + <p> + There came a piping bawl from inside the door: “That Formalyn?” + </p> + <p> + “That you, Pyecraft?” I shouted, and went and banged the door. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her to go away.” + </p> + <p> + I did. + </p> + <p> + Then I could hear a curious pattering upon the door, almost like some one + feeling for the handle in the dark, and Pyecraft's familiar grunts. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” I said, “she's gone.” + </p> + <p> + But for a long time the door didn't open. + </p> + <p> + I heard the key turn. Then Pyecraft's voice said, “Come in.” + </p> + <p> + I turned the handle and opened the door. Naturally I expected to see + Pyecraft. + </p> + <p> + Well, you know, he wasn't there! + </p> + <p> + I never had such a shock in my life. There was his sitting-room in a state + of untidy disorder, plates and dishes among the books and writing things, + and several chairs overturned, but Pyecraft— + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, o' man; shut the door,” he said, and then I discovered + him. + </p> + <p> + There he was right up close to the cornice in the corner by the door, as + though some one had glued him to the ceiling. His face was anxious and + angry. He panted and gesticulated. “Shut the door,” he said. “If that + woman gets hold of it—” + </p> + <p> + I shut the door, and went and stood away from him and stared. + </p> + <p> + “If anything gives way and you tumble down,” I said, “you'll break your + neck, Pyecraft.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could,” he wheezed. + </p> + <p> + “A man of your age and weight getting up to kiddish gymnastics—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't,” he said, and looked agonised. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you,” he said, and gesticulated. + </p> + <p> + “How the deuce,” said I, “are you holding on up there?” + </p> + <p> + And then abruptly I realised that he was not holding on at all, that he + was floating up there—just as a gas-filled bladder might have + floated in the same position. He began a struggle to thrust himself away + from the ceiling and to clamber down the wall to me. “It's that + prescription,” he panted, as he did so. “Your great-gran—” + </p> + <p> + He took hold of a framed engraving rather carelessly as he spoke and it + gave way, and he flew back to the ceiling again, while the picture smashed + onto the sofa. Bump he went against the ceiling, and I knew then why he + was all over white on the more salient curves and angles of his person. He + tried again more carefully, coming down by way of the mantel. + </p> + <p> + It was really a most extraordinary spectacle, that great, fat, + apoplectic-looking man upside down and trying to get from the ceiling to + the floor. “That prescription,” he said. “Too successful.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Loss of weight—almost complete.” + </p> + <p> + And then, of course, I understood. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, Pyecraft,” said I, “what you wanted was a cure for fatness! But + you always called it weight. You would call it weight.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow I was extremely delighted. I quite liked Pyecraft for the time. + “Let me help you!” I said, and took his hand and pulled him down. He + kicked about, trying to get a foothold somewhere. It was very like holding + a flag on a windy day. + </p> + <p> + “That table,” he said, pointing, “is solid mahogany and very heavy. If you + can put me under that—-” + </p> + <p> + I did, and there he wallowed about like a captive balloon, while I stood + on his hearthrug and talked to him. + </p> + <p> + I lit a cigar. “Tell me,” I said, “what happened?” + </p> + <p> + “I took it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “How did it taste?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, BEASTLY!” + </p> + <p> + I should fancy they all did. Whether one regards the ingredients or the + probable compound or the possible results, almost all of my + great-grandmother's remedies appear to me at least to be extraordinarily + uninviting. For my own part— + </p> + <p> + “I took a little sip first.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “And as I felt lighter and better after an hour, I decided to take the + draught.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Pyecraft!” + </p> + <p> + “I held my nose,” he explained. “And then I kept on getting lighter and + lighter—and helpless, you know.” + </p> + <p> + He gave way to a sudden burst of passion. “What the goodness am I to DO?” + he said. + </p> + <p> + “There's one thing pretty evident,” I said, “that you mustn't do. If you + go out of doors, you'll go up and up.” I waved an arm upward. “They'd have + to send Santos-Dumont after you to bring you down again.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it will wear off?” + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. “I don't think you can count on that,” I said. + </p> + <p> + And then there was another burst of passion, and he kicked out at adjacent + chairs and banged the floor. He behaved just as I should have expected a + great, fat, self-indulgent man to behave under trying circumstances—that + is to say, very badly. He spoke of me and my great-grandmother with an + utter want of discretion. + </p> + <p> + “I never asked you to take the stuff,” I said. + </p> + <p> + And generously disregarding the insults he was putting upon me, I sat down + in his armchair and began to talk to him in a sober, friendly fashion. + </p> + <p> + I pointed out to him that this was a trouble he had brought upon himself, + and that it had almost an air of poetical justice. He had eaten too much. + This he disputed, and for a time we argued the point. + </p> + <p> + He became noisy and violent, so I desisted from this aspect of his lesson. + “And then,” said I, “you committed the sin of euphuism. You called it not + Fat, which is just and inglorious, but Weight. You—” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted to say he recognised all that. What was he to DO? + </p> + <p> + I suggested he should adapt himself to his new conditions. So we came to + the really sensible part of the business. I suggested that it would not be + difficult for him to learn to walk about on the ceiling with his hands— + </p> + <p> + “I can't sleep,” he said. + </p> + <p> + But that was no great difficulty. It was quite possible, I pointed out, to + make a shake-up under a wire mattress, fasten the under things on with + tapes, and have a blanket, sheet, and coverlet to button at the side. He + would have to confide in his housekeeper, I said; and after some + squabbling he agreed to that. (Afterwards it was quite delightful to see + the beautifully matter-of-fact way with which the good lady took all these + amazing inversions.) He could have a library ladder in his room, and all + his meals could be laid on the top of his bookcase. We also hit on an + ingenious device by which he could get to the floor whenever he wanted, + which was simply to put the British Encyclopaedia (tenth edition) on the + top of his open shelves. He just pulled out a couple of volumes and held + on, and down he came. And we agreed there must be iron staples along the + skirting, so that he could cling to those whenever he wanted to get about + the room on the lower level. + </p> + <p> + As we got on with the thing I found myself almost keenly interested. It + was I who called in the housekeeper and broke matters to her, and it was I + chiefly who fixed up the inverted bed. In fact, I spent two whole days at + his flat. I am a handy, interfering sort of man with a screw-driver, and I + made all sorts of ingenious adaptations for him—ran a wire to bring + his bells within reach, turned all his electric lights up instead of down, + and so on. The whole affair was extremely curious and interesting to me, + and it was delightful to think of Pyecraft like some great, fat blow-fly, + crawling about on his ceiling and clambering round the lintels of his + doors from one room to another, and never, never, never coming to the club + any more.... + </p> + <p> + Then, you know, my fatal ingenuity got the better of me. I was sitting by + his fire drinking his whisky, and he was up in his favourite corner by the + cornice, tacking a Turkey carpet to the ceiling, when the idea struck me. + “By Jove, Pyecraft!” I said, “all this is totally unnecessary.” + </p> + <p> + And before I could calculate the complete consequences of my notion I + blurted it out. “Lead underclothing,” said I, and the mischief was done. + </p> + <p> + Pyecraft received the thing almost in tears. “To be right ways up again—” + he said. I gave him the whole secret before I saw where it would take me. + “Buy sheet lead,” I said, “stamp it into discs. Sew 'em all over your + underclothes until you have enough. Have lead-soled boots, carry a bag of + solid lead, and the thing is done! Instead of being a prisoner here you + may go abroad again, Pyecraft; you may travel—” + </p> + <p> + A still happier idea came to me. “You need never fear a shipwreck. All you + need do is just slip off some or all of your clothes, take the necessary + amount of luggage in your hand, and float up in the air—” + </p> + <p> + In his emotion he dropped the tack-hammer within an ace of my head. “By + Jove!” he said, “I shall be able to come back to the club again.” + </p> + <p> + The thing pulled me up short. “By Jove!” I said faintly. “Yes. Of course—you + will.” + </p> + <p> + He did. He does. There he sits behind me now, stuffing—as I live!—a + third go of buttered tea-cake. And no one in the whole world knows—except + his housekeeper and me—that he weighs practically nothing; that he + is a mere boring mass of assimilatory matter, mere clouds in clothing, + niente, nefas, the most inconsiderable of men. There he sits watching + until I have done this writing. Then, if he can, he will waylay me. He + will come billowing up to me.... + </p> + <p> + He will tell me over again all about it, how it feels, how it doesn't + feel, how he sometimes hopes it is passing off a little. And always + somewhere in that fat, abundant discourse he will say, “The secret's + keeping, eh? If any one knew of it—I should be so ashamed.... Makes + a fellow look such a fool, you know. Crawling about on a ceiling and all + that....” + </p> + <p> + And now to elude Pyecraft, occupying, as he does, an admirable strategic + position between me and the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 5. MR. SKELMERSDALE IN FAIRYLAND + </h2> + <p> + “There's a man in that shop,” said the Doctor, “who has been in + Fairyland.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” I said, and stared back at the shop. It was the usual village + shop, post-office, telegraph wire on its brow, zinc pans and brushes + outside, boots, shirtings, and potted meats in the window. “Tell me about + it,” I said, after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> don't know,” said the Doctor. “He's an ordinary sort of lout—Skelmersdale + is his name. But everybody about here believes it like Bible truth.” + </p> + <p> + I reverted presently to the topic. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about it,” said the Doctor, “and I don't WANT to know. I + attended him for a broken finger—Married and Single cricket match—and + that's when I struck the nonsense. That's all. But it shows you the sort + of stuff I have to deal with, anyhow, eh? Nice to get modern sanitary + ideas into a people like this!” + </p> + <p> + “Very,” I said in a mildly sympathetic tone, and he went on to tell me + about that business of the Bonham drain. Things of that kind, I observe, + are apt to weigh on the minds of Medical Officers of Health. I was as + sympathetic as I knew how, and when he called the Bonham people “asses,” I + said they were “thundering asses,” but even that did not allay him. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards, later in the summer, an urgent desire to seclude myself, while + finishing my chapter on Spiritual Pathology—it was really, I + believe, stiffer to write than it is to read—took me to Bignor. I + lodged at a farmhouse, and presently found myself outside that little + general shop again, in search of tobacco. “Skelmersdale,” said I to myself + at the sight of it, and went in. + </p> + <p> + I was served by a short, but shapely, young man, with a fair downy + complexion, good, small teeth, blue eyes, and a languid manner. I + scrutinised him curiously. Except for a touch of melancholy in his + expression, he was nothing out of the common. He was in the shirt-sleeves + and tucked-up apron of his trade, and a pencil was thrust behind his + inoffensive ear. Athwart his black waistcoat was a gold chain, from which + dangled a bent guinea. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more to-day, sir?” he inquired. He leant forward over my bill as + he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Mr. Skelmersdale?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “I am, sir,” he said, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true that you have been in Fairyland?” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at me for a moment with wrinkled brows, with an aggrieved, + exasperated face. “O SHUT it!” he said, and, after a moment of hostility, + eye to eye, he went on adding up my bill. “Four, six and a half,” he said, + after a pause. “Thank you, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + So, unpropitiously, my acquaintance with Mr. Skelmersdale began. + </p> + <p> + Well, I got from that to confidence—through a series of toilsome + efforts. I picked him up again in the Village Room, where of a night I + went to play billiards after my supper, and mitigate the extreme seclusion + from my kind that was so helpful to work during the day. I contrived to + play with him and afterwards to talk with him. I found the one subject to + avoid was Fairyland. On everything else he was open and amiable in a + commonplace sort of way, but on that he had been worried—it was a + manifest taboo. Only once in the room did I hear the slightest allusion to + his experience in his presence, and that was by a cross-grained farm hand + who was losing to him. Skelmersdale had run a break into double figures, + which, by the Bignor standards, was uncommonly good play. “Steady on!” + said his adversary. “None of your fairy flukes!” + </p> + <p> + Skelmersdale stared at him for a moment, cue in hand, then flung it down + and walked out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Why can't you leave 'im alone?” said a respectable elder who had been + enjoying the game, and in the general murmur of disapproval the grin of + satisfied wit faded from the ploughboy's face. + </p> + <p> + I scented my opportunity. “What's this joke,” said I, “about Fairyland?” + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't no joke about Fairyland, not to young Skelmersdale,” said the + respectable elder, drinking. A little man with rosy cheeks was more + communicative. “They DO say, sir,” he said, “that they took him into + Aldington Knoll an' kep' him there a matter of three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + And with that the gathering was well under weigh. Once one sheep had + started, others were ready enough to follow, and in a little time I had at + least the exterior aspect of the Skelmersdale affair. Formerly, before he + came to Bignor, he had been in that very similar little shop at Aldington + Corner, and there whatever it was did happen had taken place. The story + was clear that he had stayed out late one night on the Knoll and vanished + for three weeks from the sight of men, and had returned with “his cuffs as + clean as when he started,” and his pockets full of dust and ashes. He + returned in a state of moody wretchedness that only slowly passed away, + and for many days he would give no account of where it was he had been. + The girl he was engaged to at Clapton Hill tried to get it out of him, and + threw him over partly because he refused, and partly because, as she said, + he fairly gave her the “'ump.” And then when, some time after, he let out + to some one carelessly that he had been in Fairyland and wanted to go + back, and when the thing spread and the simple badinage of the countryside + came into play, he threw up his situation abruptly, and came to Bignor to + get out of the fuss. But as to what had happened in Fairyland none of + these people knew. There the gathering in the Village Room went to pieces + like a pack at fault. One said this, and another said that. + </p> + <p> + Their air in dealing with this marvel was ostensibly critical and + sceptical, but I could see a considerable amount of belief showing through + their guarded qualifications. I took a line of intelligent interest, + tinged with a reasonable doubt of the whole story. + </p> + <p> + “If Fairyland's inside Aldington Knoll,” I said, “why don't you dig it + out?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I says,” said the young ploughboy. + </p> + <p> + “There's a-many have tried to dig on Aldington Knoll,” said the + respectable elder, solemnly, “one time and another. But there's none as + goes about to-day to tell what they got by digging.” + </p> + <p> + The unanimity of vague belief that surrounded me was rather impressive; I + felt there must surely be SOMETHING at the root of so much conviction, and + the already pretty keen curiosity I felt about the real facts of the case + was distinctly whetted. If these real facts were to be got from any one, + they were to be got from Skelmersdale himself; and I set myself, + therefore, still more assiduously to efface the first bad impression I had + made and win his confidence to the pitch of voluntary speech. In that + endeavour I had a social advantage. Being a person of affability and no + apparent employment, and wearing tweeds and knickerbockers, I was + naturally classed as an artist in Bignor, and in the remarkable code of + social precedence prevalent in Bignor an artist ranks considerably higher + than a grocer's assistant. Skelmersdale, like too many of his class, is + something of a snob; he had told me to “shut it,” only under sudden, + excessive provocation, and with, I am certain, a subsequent repentance; he + was, I knew, quite glad to be seen walking about the village with me. In + due course, he accepted the proposal of a pipe and whisky in my rooms + readily enough, and there, scenting by some happy instinct that there was + trouble of the heart in this, and knowing that confidences beget + confidences, I plied him with much of interest and suggestion from my real + and fictitious past. And it was after the third whisky of the third visit + of that sort, if I remember rightly, that a propos of some artless + expansion of a little affair that had touched and left me in my teens, + that he did at last, of his own free will and motion, break the ice. “It + was like that with me,” he said, “over there at Aldington. It's just that + that's so rum. First I didn't care a bit and it was all her, and + afterwards, when it was too late, it was, in a manner of speaking, all + me.” + </p> + <p> + I forbore to jump upon this allusion, and so he presently threw out + another, and in a little while he was making it as plain as daylight that + the one thing he wanted to talk about now was this Fairyland adventure he + had sat tight upon for so long. You see, I'd done the trick with him, and + from being just another half-incredulous, would-be facetious stranger, I + had, by all my wealth of shameless self-exposure, become the possible + confidant. He had been bitten by the desire to show that he, too, had + lived and felt many things, and the fever was upon him. + </p> + <p> + He was certainly confoundedly allusive at first, and my eagerness to clear + him up with a few precise questions was only equalled and controlled by my + anxiety not to get to this sort of thing too soon. But in another meeting + or so the basis of confidence was complete; and from first to last I think + I got most of the items and aspects—indeed, I got quite a number of + times over almost everything that Mr. Skelmersdale, with his very limited + powers of narration, will ever be able to tell. And so I come to the story + of his adventure, and I piece it all together again. Whether it really + happened, whether he imagined it or dreamt it, or fell upon it in some + strange hallucinatory trance, I do not profess to say. But that he + invented it I will not for one moment entertain. The man simply and + honestly believes the thing happened as he says it happened; he is + transparently incapable of any lie so elaborate and sustained, and in the + belief of the simple, yet often keenly penetrating, rustic minds about him + I find a very strong confirmation of his sincerity. He believes—and + nobody can produce any positive fact to falsify his belief. As for me, + with this much of endorsement, I transmit his story—I am a little + old now to justify or explain. + </p> + <p> + He says he went to sleep on Aldington Knoll about ten o'clock one night—it + was quite possibly Midsummer night, though he has never thought of the + date, and he cannot be sure within a week or so—and it was a fine + night and windless, with a rising moon. I have been at the pains to visit + this Knoll thrice since his story grew up under my persuasions, and once I + went there in the twilight summer moonrise on what was, perhaps, a similar + night to that of his adventure. Jupiter was great and splendid above the + moon, and in the north and northwest the sky was green and vividly bright + over the sunken sun. The Knoll stands out bare and bleak under the sky, + but surrounded at a little distance by dark thickets, and as I went up + towards it there was a mighty starting and scampering of ghostly or quite + invisible rabbits. Just over the crown of the Knoll, but nowhere else, was + a multitudinous thin trumpeting of midges. The Knoll is, I believe, an + artificial mound, the tumulus of some great prehistoric chieftain, and + surely no man ever chose a more spacious prospect for a sepulchre. + Eastward one sees along the hills to Hythe, and thence across the Channel + to where, thirty miles and more perhaps, away, the great white lights by + Gris Nez and Boulogne wink and pass and shine. Westward lies the whole + tumbled valley of the Weald, visible as far as Hindhead and Leith Hill, + and the valley of the Stour opens the Downs in the north to interminable + hills beyond Wye. All Romney Marsh lies southward at one's feet, Dymchurch + and Romney and Lydd, Hastings and its hill are in the middle distance, and + the hills multiply vaguely far beyond where Eastbourne rolls up to Beachy + Head. + </p> + <p> + And out upon all this it was that Skelmersdale wandered, being troubled in + his earlier love affair, and as he says, “not caring WHERE he went.” And + there he sat down to think it over, and so, sulking and grieving, was + overtaken by sleep. And so he fell into the fairies' power. + </p> + <p> + The quarrel that had upset him was some trivial matter enough between + himself and the girl at Clapton Hill to whom he was engaged. She was a + farmer's daughter, said Skelmersdale, and “very respectable,” and no doubt + an excellent match for him; but both girl and lover were very young and + with just that mutual jealousy, that intolerantly keen edge of criticism, + that irrational hunger for a beautiful perfection, that life and wisdom do + presently and most mercifully dull. What the precise matter of quarrel was + I have no idea. She may have said she liked men in gaiters when he hadn't + any gaiters on, or he may have said he liked her better in a different + sort of hat, but however it began, it got by a series of clumsy stages to + bitterness and tears. She no doubt got tearful and smeary, and he grew + dusty and drooping, and she parted with invidious comparisons, grave + doubts whether she ever had REALLY cared for him, and a clear certainty + she would never care again. And with this sort of thing upon his mind he + came out upon Aldington Knoll grieving, and presently, after a long + interval, perhaps, quite inexplicably, fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + He woke to find himself on a softer turf than ever he had slept on before, + and under the shade of very dark trees that completely hid the sky. + Always, indeed, in Fairyland the sky is hidden, it seems. Except for one + night when the fairies were dancing, Mr. Skelmersdale, during all his time + with them, never saw a star. And of that night I am in doubt whether he + was in Fairyland proper or out where the rings and rushes are, in those + low meadows near the railway line at Smeeth. + </p> + <p> + But it was light under these trees for all that, and on the leaves and + amidst the turf shone a multitude of glow-worms, very bright and fine. Mr. + Skelmersdale's first impression was that he was SMALL, and the next that + quite a number of people still smaller were standing all about him. For + some reason, he says, he was neither surprised nor frightened, but sat up + quite deliberately and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. And there all + about him stood the smiling elves who had caught him sleeping under their + privileges and had brought him into Fairyland. + </p> + <p> + What these elves were like I have failed to gather, so vague and imperfect + is his vocabulary, and so unobservant of all minor detail does he seem to + have been. They were clothed in something very light and beautiful, that + was neither wool, nor silk, nor leaves, nor the petals of flowers. They + stood all about him as he sat and waked, and down the glade towards him, + down a glow-worm avenue and fronted by a star, came at once that Fairy + Lady who is the chief personage of his memory and tale. Of her I gathered + more. She was clothed in filmy green, and about her little waist was a + broad silver girdle. Her hair waved back from her forehead on either side; + there were curls not too wayward and yet astray, and on her brow was a + little tiara, set with a single star. Her sleeves were some sort of open + sleeves that gave little glimpses of her arms; her throat, I think, was a + little displayed, because he speaks of the beauty of her neck and chin. + There was a necklace of coral about her white throat, and in her breast a + coral-coloured flower. She had the soft lines of a little child in her + chin and cheeks and throat. And her eyes, I gather, were of a kindled + brown, very soft and straight and sweet under her level brows. You see by + these particulars how greatly this lady must have loomed in Mr. + Skelmersdale's picture. Certain things he tried to express and could not + express; “the way she moved,” he said several times; and I fancy a sort of + demure joyousness radiated from this Lady. + </p> + <p> + And it was in the company of this delightful person, as the guest and + chosen companion of this delightful person, that Mr. Skelmersdale set out + to be taken into the intimacies of Fairyland. She welcomed him gladly and + a little warmly—I suspect a pressure of his hand in both of hers and + a lit face to his. After all, ten years ago young Skelmersdale may have + been a very comely youth. And once she took his arm, and once, I think, + she led him by the hand adown the glade that the glow-worms lit. + </p> + <p> + Just how things chanced and happened there is no telling from Mr. + Skelmersdale's disarticulated skeleton of description. He gives little + unsatisfactory glimpses of strange corners and doings, of places where + there were many fairies together, of “toadstool things that shone pink,” + of fairy food, of which he could only say “you should have tasted it!” and + of fairy music, “like a little musical box,” that came out of nodding + flowers. There was a great open place where fairies rode and raced on + “things,” but what Mr. Skelmersdale meant by “these here things they + rode,” there is no telling. Larvae, perhaps, or crickets, or the little + beetles that elude us so abundantly. There was a place where water + splashed and gigantic king-cups grew, and there in the hotter times the + fairies bathed together. There were games being played and dancing and + much elvish love-making, too, I think, among the moss-branch thickets. + There can be no doubt that the Fairy Lady made love to Mr. Skelmersdale, + and no doubt either that this young man set himself to resist her. A time + came, indeed, when she sat on a bank beside him, in a quiet, secluded + place “all smelling of vi'lets,” and talked to him of love. + </p> + <p> + “When her voice went low and she whispered,” said Mr. Skelmersdale, “and + laid 'er 'and on my 'and, you know, and came close with a soft, warm + friendly way she 'ad, it was as much as I could do to keep my 'ead.” + </p> + <p> + It seems he kept his head to a certain limited unfortunate extent. He saw + “'ow the wind was blowing,” he says, and so, sitting there in a place all + smelling of violets, with the touch of this lovely Fairy Lady about him, + Mr. Skelmersdale broke it to her gently—that he was engaged! + </p> + <p> + She had told him she loved him dearly, that he was a sweet human lad for + her, and whatever he would ask of her he should have—even his + heart's desire. + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Skelmersdale, who, I fancy, tried hard to avoid looking at her + little lips as they just dropped apart and came together, led up to the + more intimate question by saying he would like enough capital to start a + little shop. He'd just like to feel, he said, he had money enough to do + that. I imagine a little surprise in those brown eyes he talked about, but + she seemed sympathetic for all that, and she asked him many questions + about the little shop, “laughing like” all the time. So he got to the + complete statement of his affianced position, and told her all about + Millie. + </p> + <p> + “All?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” said Mr. Skelmersdale, “just who she was, and where she + lived, and everything about her. I sort of felt I 'ad to all the time, I + did.” + </p> + <p> + “'Whatever you want you shall have,' said the Fairy Lady. 'That's as good + as done. You SHALL feel you have the money just as you wish. And now, you + know—YOU MUST KISS ME.'” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Skelmersdale pretended not to hear the latter part of her remark, + and said she was very kind. That he really didn't deserve she should be so + kind. And— + </p> + <p> + The Fairy Lady suddenly came quite close to him and whispered, “Kiss me!” + </p> + <p> + “And,” said Mr. Skelmersdale, “like a fool, I did.” + </p> + <p> + There are kisses and kisses, I am told, and this must have been quite the + other sort from Millie's resonant signals of regard. There was something + magic in that kiss; assuredly it marked a turning point. At any rate, this + is one of the passages that he thought sufficiently important to describe + most at length. I have tried to get it right, I have tried to disentangle + it from the hints and gestures through which it came to me, but I have no + doubt that it was all different from my telling and far finer and sweeter, + in the soft filtered light and the subtly stirring silences of the fairy + glades. The Fairy Lady asked him more about Millie, and was she very + lovely, and so on—a great many times. As to Millie's loveliness, I + conceive him answering that she was “all right.” And then, or on some such + occasion, the Fairy Lady told him she had fallen in love with him as he + slept in the moonlight, and so he had been brought into Fairyland, and she + had thought, not knowing of Millie, that perhaps he might chance to love + her. “But now you know you can't,” she said, “so you must stop with me + just a little while, and then you must go back to Millie.” She told him + that, and you know Skelmersdale was already in love with her, but the pure + inertia of his mind kept him in the way he was going. I imagine him + sitting in a sort of stupefaction amidst all these glowing beautiful + things, answering about his Millie and the little shop he projected and + the need of a horse and cart.... And that absurd state of affairs must + have gone on for days and days. I see this little lady, hovering about him + and trying to amuse him, too dainty to understand his complexity and too + tender to let him go. And he, you know, hypnotised as it were by his + earthly position, went his way with her hither and thither, blind to + everything in Fairyland but this wonderful intimacy that had come to him. + It is hard, it is impossible, to give in print the effect of her radiant + sweetness shining through the jungle of poor Skelmersdale's rough and + broken sentences. To me, at least, she shone clear amidst the muddle of + his story like a glow-worm in a tangle of weeds. + </p> + <p> + There must have been many days of things while all this was happening—and + once, I say, they danced under the moonlight in the fairy rings that stud + the meadows near Smeeth—but at last it all came to an end. She led + him into a great cavernous place, lit by a red nightlight sort of thing, + where there were coffers piled on coffers, and cups and golden boxes, and + a great heap of what certainly seemed to all Mr. Skelmersdale's senses—coined + gold. There were little gnomes amidst this wealth, who saluted her at her + coming, and stood aside. And suddenly she turned on him there with + brightly shining eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” she said, “you have been kind to stay with me so long, and it + is time I let you go. You must go back to your Millie. You must go back to + your Millie, and here—just as I promised you—they will give + you gold.” + </p> + <p> + “She choked like,” said Mr. Skelmersdale. “At that, I had a sort of + feeling—” (he touched his breastbone) “as though I was fainting + here. I felt pale, you know, and shivering, and even then—I 'adn't a + thing to say.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. “Yes,” I said. + </p> + <p> + The scene was beyond his describing. But I know that she kissed him + good-bye. + </p> + <p> + “And you said nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” he said. “I stood like a stuffed calf. She just looked back + once, you know, and stood smiling like and crying—I could see the + shine of her eyes—and then she was gone, and there was all these + little fellows bustling about me, stuffing my 'ands and my pockets and the + back of my collar and everywhere with gold.” + </p> + <p> + And then it was, when the Fairy Lady had vanished, that Mr. Skelmersdale + really understood and knew. He suddenly began plucking out the gold they + were thrusting upon him, and shouting out at them to prevent their giving + him more. “'I don't WANT yer gold,' I said. 'I 'aven't done yet. I'm not + going. I want to speak to that Fairy Lady again.' I started off to go + after her and they held me back. Yes, stuck their little 'ands against my + middle and shoved me back. They kept giving me more and more gold until it + was running all down my trouser legs and dropping out of my 'ands. 'I + don't WANT yer gold,' I says to them, 'I want just to speak to the Fairy + Lady again.'” + </p> + <p> + “And did you?” + </p> + <p> + “It came to a tussle.” + </p> + <p> + “Before you saw her?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't see her. When I got out from them she wasn't anywhere to be + seen.” + </p> + <p> + So he ran in search of her out of this red-lit cave, down a long grotto, + seeking her, and thence he came out in a great and desolate place athwart + which a swarm of will-o'-the-wisps were flying to and fro. And about him + elves were dancing in derision, and the little gnomes came out of the cave + after him, carrying gold in handfuls and casting it after him, shouting, + “Fairy love and fairy gold! Fairy love and fairy gold!” + </p> + <p> + And when he heard these words, came a great fear that it was all over, and + he lifted up his voice and called to her by her name, and suddenly set + himself to run down the slope from the mouth of the cavern, through a + place of thorns and briers, calling after her very loudly and often. The + elves danced about him unheeded, pinching him and pricking him, and the + will-o'-the-wisps circled round him and dashed into his face, and the + gnomes pursued him shouting and pelting him with fairy gold. As he ran + with all this strange rout about him and distracting him, suddenly he was + knee-deep in a swamp, and suddenly he was amidst thick twisted roots, and + he caught his foot in one and stumbled and fell.... + </p> + <p> + He fell and he rolled over, and in that instant he found himself sprawling + upon Aldington Knoll, all lonely under the stars. + </p> + <p> + He sat up sharply at once, he says, and found he was very stiff and cold, + and his clothes were damp with dew. The first pallor of dawn and a chilly + wind were coming up together. He could have believed the whole thing a + strangely vivid dream until he thrust his hand into his side pocket and + found it stuffed with ashes. Then he knew for certain it was fairy gold + they had given him. He could feel all their pinches and pricks still, + though there was never a bruise upon him. And in that manner, and so + suddenly, Mr. Skelmersdale came out of Fairyland back into this world of + men. Even then he fancied the thing was but the matter of a night until he + returned to the shop at Aldington Corner and discovered amidst their + astonishment that he had been away three weeks. + </p> + <p> + “Lor'! the trouble I 'ad!” said Mr. Skelmersdale. + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Explaining. I suppose you've never had anything like that to explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” I said, and he expatiated for a time on the behaviour of this + person and that. One name he avoided for a space. + </p> + <p> + “And Millie?” said I at last. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't seem to care a bit for seeing Millie,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I expect she seemed changed?” + </p> + <p> + “Every one was changed. Changed for good. Every one seemed big, you know, + and coarse. And their voices seemed loud. Why, the sun, when it rose in + the morning, fair hit me in the eye!” + </p> + <p> + “And Millie?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't want to see Millie.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you did?” + </p> + <p> + “I came up against her Sunday, coming out of church. 'Where you been?' she + said, and I saw there was a row. <i>I</i> didn't care if there was. I + seemed to forget about her even while she was there a-talking to me. She + was just nothing. I couldn't make out whatever I 'ad seen in 'er ever, or + what there could 'ave been. Sometimes when she wasn't about, I did get + back a little, but never when she was there. Then it was always the other + came up and blotted her out.... Anyow, it didn't break her heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Married?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Married 'er cousin,” said Mr. Skelmersdale, and reflected on the pattern + of the tablecloth for a space. + </p> + <p> + When he spoke again it was clear that his former sweetheart had clean + vanished from his mind, and that the talk had brought back the Fairy Lady + triumphant in his heart. He talked of her—soon he was letting out + the oddest things, queer love secrets it would be treachery to repeat. I + think, indeed, that was the queerest thing in the whole affair, to hear + that neat little grocer man after his story was done, with a glass of + whisky beside him and a cigar between his fingers, witnessing, with sorrow + still, though now, indeed, with a time-blunted anguish, of the + inappeasable hunger of the heart that presently came upon him. “I couldn't + eat,” he said, “I couldn't sleep. I made mistakes in orders and got mixed + with change. There she was day and night, drawing me and drawing me. Oh, I + wanted her. Lord! how I wanted her! I was up there, most evenings I was up + there on the Knoll, often even when it rained. I used to walk over the + Knoll and round it and round it, calling for them to let me in. Shouting. + Near blubbering I was at times. Daft I was and miserable. I kept on saying + it was all a mistake. And every Sunday afternoon I went up there, wet and + fine, though I knew as well as you do it wasn't no good by day. And I've + tried to go to sleep there.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped sharply and decided to drink some whisky. + </p> + <p> + “I've tried to go to sleep there,” he said, and I could swear his lips + trembled. “I've tried to go to sleep there, often and often. And, you + know, I couldn't, sir—never. I've thought if I could go to sleep + there, there might be something. But I've sat up there and laid up there, + and I couldn't—not for thinking and longing. It's the longing.... + I've tried—” + </p> + <p> + He blew, drank up the rest of his whisky spasmodically, stood up suddenly + and buttoned his jacket, staring closely and critically at the cheap + oleographs beside the mantel meanwhile. The little black notebook in which + he recorded the orders of his daily round projected stiffly from his + breast pocket. When all the buttons were quite done, he patted his chest + and turned on me suddenly. “Well,” he said, “I must be going.” + </p> + <p> + There was something in his eyes and manner that was too difficult for him + to express in words. “One gets talking,” he said at last at the door, and + smiled wanly, and so vanished from my eyes. And that is the tale of Mr. + Skelmersdale in Fairyland just as he told it to me. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 6. THE STORY OF THE INEXPERIENCED GHOST + </h2> + <p> + The scene amidst which Clayton told his last story comes back very vividly + to my mind. There he sat, for the greater part of the time, in the corner + of the authentic settle by the spacious open fire, and Sanderson sat + beside him smoking the Broseley clay that bore his name. There was Evans, + and that marvel among actors, Wish, who is also a modest man. We had all + come down to the Mermaid Club that Saturday morning, except Clayton, who + had slept there overnight—which indeed gave him the opening of his + story. We had golfed until golfing was invisible; we had dined, and we + were in that mood of tranquil kindliness when men will suffer a story. + When Clayton began to tell one, we naturally supposed he was lying. It may + be that indeed he was lying—of that the reader will speedily be able + to judge as well as I. He began, it is true, with an air of matter-of-fact + anecdote, but that we thought was only the incurable artifice of the man. + </p> + <p> + “I say!” he remarked, after a long consideration of the upward rain of + sparks from the log that Sanderson had thumped, “you know I was alone here + last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Except for the domestics,” said Wish. + </p> + <p> + “Who sleep in the other wing,” said Clayton. “Yes. Well—” He pulled + at his cigar for some little time as though he still hesitated about his + confidence. Then he said, quite quietly, “I caught a ghost!” + </p> + <p> + “Caught a ghost, did you?” said Sanderson. “Where is it?” + </p> + <p> + And Evans, who admires Clayton immensely and has been four weeks in + America, shouted, “CAUGHT a ghost, did you, Clayton? I'm glad of it! Tell + us all about it right now.” + </p> + <p> + Clayton said he would in a minute, and asked him to shut the door. + </p> + <p> + He looked apologetically at me. “There's no eavesdropping of course, but + we don't want to upset our very excellent service with any rumours of + ghosts in the place. There's too much shadow and oak panelling to trifle + with that. And this, you know, wasn't a regular ghost. I don't think it + will come again—ever.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say you didn't keep it?” said Sanderson. + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't the heart to,” said Clayton. + </p> + <p> + And Sanderson said he was surprised. + </p> + <p> + We laughed, and Clayton looked aggrieved. “I know,” he said, with the + flicker of a smile, “but the fact is it really WAS a ghost, and I'm as + sure of it as I am that I am talking to you now. I'm not joking. I mean + what I say.” + </p> + <p> + Sanderson drew deeply at his pipe, with one reddish eye on Clayton, and + then emitted a thin jet of smoke more eloquent than many words. + </p> + <p> + Clayton ignored the comment. “It is the strangest thing that has ever + happened in my life. You know, I never believed in ghosts or anything of + the sort, before, ever; and then, you know, I bag one in a corner; and the + whole business is in my hands.” + </p> + <p> + He meditated still more profoundly, and produced and began to pierce a + second cigar with a curious little stabber he affected. + </p> + <p> + “You talked to it?” asked Wish. + </p> + <p> + “For the space, probably, of an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Chatty?” I said, joining the party of the sceptics. + </p> + <p> + “The poor devil was in trouble,” said Clayton, bowed over his cigar-end + and with the very faintest note of reproof. + </p> + <p> + “Sobbing?” some one asked. + </p> + <p> + Clayton heaved a realistic sigh at the memory. “Good Lord!” he said; + “yes.” And then, “Poor fellow! yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you strike it?” asked Evans, in his best American accent. + </p> + <p> + “I never realised,” said Clayton, ignoring him, “the poor sort of thing a + ghost might be,” and he hung us up again for a time, while he sought for + matches in his pocket and lit and warmed to his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “I took an advantage,” he reflected at last. + </p> + <p> + We were none of us in a hurry. “A character,” he said, “remains just the + same character for all that it's been disembodied. That's a thing we too + often forget. People with a certain strength or fixity of purpose may have + ghosts of a certain strength and fixity of purpose—most haunting + ghosts, you know, must be as one-idea'd as monomaniacs and as obstinate as + mules to come back again and again. This poor creature wasn't.” He + suddenly looked up rather queerly, and his eye went round the room. “I say + it,” he said, “in all kindliness, but that is the plain truth of the case. + Even at the first glance he struck me as weak.” + </p> + <p> + He punctuated with the help of his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “I came upon him, you know, in the long passage. His back was towards me + and I saw him first. Right off I knew him for a ghost. He was transparent + and whitish; clean through his chest I could see the glimmer of the little + window at the end. And not only his physique but his attitude struck me as + being weak. He looked, you know, as though he didn't know in the slightest + whatever he meant to do. One hand was on the panelling and the other + fluttered to his mouth. Like—SO!” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of physique?” said Sanderson. + </p> + <p> + “Lean. You know that sort of young man's neck that has two great flutings + down the back, here and here—so! And a little, meanish head with + scrubby hair—And rather bad ears. Shoulders bad, narrower than the + hips; turn-down collar, ready-made short jacket, trousers baggy and a + little frayed at the heels. That's how he took me. I came very quietly up + the staircase. I did not carry a light, you know—the candles are on + the landing table and there is that lamp—and I was in my list + slippers, and I saw him as I came up. I stopped dead at that—taking + him in. I wasn't a bit afraid. I think that in most of these affairs one + is never nearly so afraid or excited as one imagines one would be. I was + surprised and interested. I thought, 'Good Lord! Here's a ghost at last! + And I haven't believed for a moment in ghosts during the last + five-and-twenty years.'” + </p> + <p> + “Um,” said Wish. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I wasn't on the landing a moment before he found out I was + there. He turned on me sharply, and I saw the face of an immature young + man, a weak nose, a scrubby little moustache, a feeble chin. So for an + instant we stood—he looking over his shoulder at me and regarded one + another. Then he seemed to remember his high calling. He turned round, + drew himself up, projected his face, raised his arms, spread his hands in + approved ghost fashion—came towards me. As he did so his little jaw + dropped, and he emitted a faint, drawn-out 'Boo.' No, it wasn't—not + a bit dreadful. I'd dined. I'd had a bottle of champagne, and being all + alone, perhaps two or three—perhaps even four or five—whiskies, + so I was as solid as rocks and no more frightened than if I'd been + assailed by a frog. 'Boo!' I said. 'Nonsense. You don't belong to THIS + place. What are you doing here?' + </p> + <p> + “I could see him wince. 'Boo-oo,' he said. + </p> + <p> + “'Boo—be hanged! Are you a member?' I said; and just to show I + didn't care a pin for him I stepped through a corner of him and made to + light my candle. 'Are you a member?' I repeated, looking at him sideways. + </p> + <p> + “He moved a little so as to stand clear of me, and his bearing became + crestfallen. 'No,' he said, in answer to the persistent interrogation of + my eye; 'I'm not a member—I'm a ghost.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well, that doesn't give you the run of the Mermaid Club. Is there any + one you want to see, or anything of that sort?' and doing it as steadily + as possible for fear that he should mistake the carelessness of whisky for + the distraction of fear, I got my candle alight. I turned on him, holding + it. 'What are you doing here?' I said. + </p> + <p> + “He had dropped his hands and stopped his booing, and there he stood, + abashed and awkward, the ghost of a weak, silly, aimless young man. 'I'm + haunting,' he said. + </p> + <p> + “'You haven't any business to,' I said in a quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + “'I'm a ghost,' he said, as if in defence. + </p> + <p> + “'That may be, but you haven't any business to haunt here. This is a + respectable private club; people often stop here with nursemaids and + children, and, going about in the careless way you do, some poor little + mite could easily come upon you and be scared out of her wits. I suppose + you didn't think of that?' + </p> + <p> + “'No, sir,' he said, 'I didn't.' + </p> + <p> + “'You should have done. You haven't any claim on the place, have you? + Weren't murdered here, or anything of that sort?' + </p> + <p> + “'None, sir; but I thought as it was old and oak-panelled—' + </p> + <p> + “'That's NO excuse.' I regarded him firmly. 'Your coming here is a + mistake,' I said, in a tone of friendly superiority. I feigned to see if I + had my matches, and then looked up at him frankly. 'If I were you I + wouldn't wait for cock-crow—I'd vanish right away.' + </p> + <p> + “He looked embarrassed. 'The fact IS, sir—' he began. + </p> + <p> + “'I'd vanish,' I said, driving it home. + </p> + <p> + “'The fact is, sir, that—somehow—I can't.' + </p> + <p> + “'You CAN'T?' + </p> + <p> + “'No, sir. There's something I've forgotten. I've been hanging about here + since midnight last night, hiding in the cupboards of the empty bedrooms + and things like that. I'm flurried. I've never come haunting before, and + it seems to put me out.' + </p> + <p> + “'Put you out?' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes, sir. I've tried to do it several times, and it doesn't come off. + There's some little thing has slipped me, and I can't get back.' + </p> + <p> + “That, you know, rather bowled me over. He looked at me in such an abject + way that for the life of me I couldn't keep up quite the high, hectoring + vein I had adopted. 'That's queer,' I said, and as I spoke I fancied I + heard some one moving about down below. 'Come into my room and tell me + more about it,' I said. 'I didn't, of course, understand this,' and I + tried to take him by the arm. But, of course, you might as well have tried + to take hold of a puff of smoke! I had forgotten my number, I think; + anyhow, I remember going into several bedrooms—it was lucky I was + the only soul in that wing—until I saw my traps. 'Here we are,' I + said, and sat down in the arm-chair; 'sit down and tell me all about it. + It seems to me you have got yourself into a jolly awkward position, old + chap.' + </p> + <p> + “Well, he said he wouldn't sit down! he'd prefer to flit up and down the + room if it was all the same to me. And so he did, and in a little while we + were deep in a long and serious talk. And presently, you know, something + of those whiskies and sodas evaporated out of me, and I began to realise + just a little what a thundering rum and weird business it was that I was + in. There he was, semi-transparent—the proper conventional phantom, + and noiseless except for his ghost of a voice—flitting to and fro in + that nice, clean, chintz-hung old bedroom. You could see the gleam of the + copper candlesticks through him, and the lights on the brass fender, and + the corners of the framed engravings on the wall,—and there he was + telling me all about this wretched little life of his that had recently + ended on earth. He hadn't a particularly honest face, you know, but being + transparent, of course, he couldn't avoid telling the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” said Wish, suddenly sitting up in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Clayton. + </p> + <p> + “Being transparent—couldn't avoid telling the truth—I don't + see it,” said Wish. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> don't see it,” said Clayton, with inimitable assurance. “But it + IS so, I can assure you nevertheless. I don't believe he got once a nail's + breadth off the Bible truth. He told me how he had been killed—he + went down into a London basement with a candle to look for a leakage of + gas—and described himself as a senior English master in a London + private school when that release occurred.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor wretch!” said I. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I thought, and the more he talked the more I thought it. + There he was, purposeless in life and purposeless out of it. He talked of + his father and mother and his schoolmaster, and all who had ever been + anything to him in the world, meanly. He had been too sensitive, too + nervous; none of them had ever valued him properly or understood him, he + said. He had never had a real friend in the world, I think; he had never + had a success. He had shirked games and failed examinations. 'It's like + that with some people,' he said; 'whenever I got into the examination-room + or anywhere everything seemed to go.' Engaged to be married of course—to + another over-sensitive person, I suppose—when the indiscretion with + the gas escape ended his affairs. 'And where are you now?' I asked. 'Not + in—?' + </p> + <p> + “He wasn't clear on that point at all. The impression he gave me was of a + sort of vague, intermediate state, a special reserve for souls too + non-existent for anything so positive as either sin or virtue. <i>I</i> + don't know. He was much too egotistical and unobservant to give me any + clear idea of the kind of place, kind of country, there is on the Other + Side of Things. Wherever he was, he seems to have fallen in with a set of + kindred spirits: ghosts of weak Cockney young men, who were on a footing + of Christian names, and among these there was certainly a lot of talk + about 'going haunting' and things like that. Yes—going haunting! + They seemed to think 'haunting' a tremendous adventure, and most of them + funked it all the time. And so primed, you know, he had come.” + </p> + <p> + “But really!” said Wish to the fire. + </p> + <p> + “These are the impressions he gave me, anyhow,” said Clayton, modestly. “I + may, of course, have been in a rather uncritical state, but that was the + sort of background he gave to himself. He kept flitting up and down, with + his thin voice going talking, talking about his wretched self, and never a + word of clear, firm statement from first to last. He was thinner and + sillier and more pointless than if he had been real and alive. Only then, + you know, he would not have been in my bedroom here—if he HAD been + alive. I should have kicked him out.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Evans, “there ARE poor mortals like that.” + </p> + <p> + “And there's just as much chance of their having ghosts as the rest of + us,” I admitted. + </p> + <p> + “What gave a sort of point to him, you know, was the fact that he did seem + within limits to have found himself out. The mess he had made of haunting + had depressed him terribly. He had been told it would be a 'lark'; he had + come expecting it to be a 'lark,' and here it was, nothing but another + failure added to his record! He proclaimed himself an utter out-and-out + failure. He said, and I can quite believe it, that he had never tried to + do anything all his life that he hadn't made a perfect mess of—and + through all the wastes of eternity he never would. If he had had sympathy, + perhaps—. He paused at that, and stood regarding me. He remarked + that, strange as it might seem to me, nobody, not any one, ever, had given + him the amount of sympathy I was doing now. I could see what he wanted + straight away, and I determined to head him off at once. I may be a brute, + you know, but being the Only Real Friend, the recipient of the confidences + of one of these egotistical weaklings, ghost or body, is beyond my + physical endurance. I got up briskly. 'Don't you brood on these things too + much,' I said. 'The thing you've got to do is to get out of this get out + of this—sharp. You pull yourself together and TRY.' 'I can't,' he + said. 'You try,' I said, and try he did.” + </p> + <p> + “Try!” said Sanderson. “HOW?” + </p> + <p> + “Passes,” said Clayton. + </p> + <p> + “Passes?” + </p> + <p> + “Complicated series of gestures and passes with the hands. That's how he + had come in and that's how he had to get out again. Lord! what a business + I had!” + </p> + <p> + “But how could ANY series of passes—?” I began. + </p> + <p> + “My dear man,” said Clayton, turning on me and putting a great emphasis on + certain words, “you want EVERYTHING clear. <i>I</i> don't know HOW. All I + know is that you DO—that HE did, anyhow, at least. After a fearful + time, you know, he got his passes right and suddenly disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you,” said Sanderson, slowly, “observe the passes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Clayton, and seemed to think. “It was tremendously queer,” he + said. “There we were, I and this thin vague ghost, in that silent room, in + this silent, empty inn, in this silent little Friday-night town. Not a + sound except our voices and a faint panting he made when he swung. There + was the bedroom candle, and one candle on the dressing-table alight, that + was all—sometimes one or other would flare up into a tall, lean, + astonished flame for a space. And queer things happened. 'I can't,' he + said; 'I shall never—!' And suddenly he sat down on a little chair + at the foot of the bed and began to sob and sob. Lord! what a harrowing, + whimpering thing he seemed! + </p> + <p> + “'You pull yourself together,' I said, and tried to pat him on the back, + and... my confounded hand went through him! By that time, you know, I + wasn't nearly so—massive as I had been on the landing. I got the + queerness of it full. I remember snatching back my hand out of him, as it + were, with a little thrill, and walking over to the dressing-table. 'You + pull yourself together,' I said to him, 'and try.' And in order to + encourage and help him I began to try as well.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Sanderson, “the passes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the passes.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” I said, moved by an idea that eluded me for a space. + </p> + <p> + “This is interesting,” said Sanderson, with his finger in his pipe-bowl. + “You mean to say this ghost of yours gave away—” + </p> + <p> + “Did his level best to give away the whole confounded barrier? YES.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't,” said Wish; “he couldn't. Or you'd have gone there too.” + </p> + <p> + “That's precisely it,” I said, finding my elusive idea put into words for + me. + </p> + <p> + “That IS precisely it,” said Clayton, with thoughtful eyes upon the fire. + </p> + <p> + For just a little while there was silence. + </p> + <p> + “And at last he did it?” said Sanderson. + </p> + <p> + “At last he did it. I had to keep him up to it hard, but he did it at last—rather + suddenly. He despaired, we had a scene, and then he got up abruptly and + asked me to go through the whole performance, slowly, so that he might + see. 'I believe,' he said, 'if I could SEE I should spot what was wrong at + once.' And he did. '<i>I</i> know,' he said. 'What do you know?' said I. '<i>I</i> + know,' he repeated. Then he said, peevishly, 'I CAN'T do it if you look at + me—I really CAN'T; it's been that, partly, all along. I'm such a + nervous fellow that you put me out.' Well, we had a bit of an argument. + Naturally I wanted to see; but he was as obstinate as a mule, and suddenly + I had come over as tired as a dog—he tired me out. 'All right,' I + said, '<i>I</i> won't look at you,' and turned towards the mirror, on the + wardrobe, by the bed. + </p> + <p> + “He started off very fast. I tried to follow him by looking in the + looking-glass, to see just what it was had hung. Round went his arms and + his hands, so, and so, and so, and then with a rush came to the last + gesture of all—you stand erect and open out your arms—and so, + don't you know, he stood. And then he didn't! He didn't! He wasn't! I + wheeled round from the looking-glass to him. There was nothing, I was + alone, with the flaring candles and a staggering mind. What had happened? + Had anything happened? Had I been dreaming?... And then, with an absurd + note of finality about it, the clock upon the landing discovered the + moment was ripe for striking ONE. So!—Ping! And I was as grave and + sober as a judge, with all my champagne and whisky gone into the vast + serene. Feeling queer, you know—confoundedly QUEER! Queer! Good + Lord!” + </p> + <p> + He regarded his cigar-ash for a moment. “That's all that happened,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “And then you went to bed?” asked Evans. + </p> + <p> + “What else was there to do?” + </p> + <p> + I looked Wish in the eye. We wanted to scoff, and there was something, + something perhaps in Clayton's voice and manner, that hampered our desire. + </p> + <p> + “And about these passes?” said Sanderson. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I could do them now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Sanderson, and produced a penknife and set himself to grub the + dottel out of the bowl of his clay. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you do them now?” said Sanderson, shutting his pen-knife with a + click. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I'm going to do,” said Clayton. + </p> + <p> + “They won't work,” said Evans. + </p> + <p> + “If they do—” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “You know, I'd rather you didn't,” said Wish, stretching out his legs. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Evans. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather he didn't,” said Wish. + </p> + <p> + “But he hasn't got 'em right,” said Sanderson, plugging too much tobacco + in his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “All the same, I'd rather he didn't,” said Wish. + </p> + <p> + We argued with Wish. He said that for Clayton to go through those gestures + was like mocking a serious matter. “But you don't believe—?” I said. + Wish glanced at Clayton, who was staring into the fire, weighing something + in his mind. “I do—more than half, anyhow, I do,” said Wish. + </p> + <p> + “Clayton,” said I, “you're too good a liar for us. Most of it was all + right. But that disappearance... happened to be convincing. Tell us, it's + a tale of cock and bull.” + </p> + <p> + He stood up without heeding me, took the middle of the hearthrug, and + faced me. For a moment he regarded his feet thoughtfully, and then for all + the rest of the time his eyes were on the opposite wall, with an intent + expression. He raised his two hands slowly to the level of his eyes and so + began.... + </p> + <p> + Now, Sanderson is a Freemason, a member of the lodge of the Four Kings, + which devotes itself so ably to the study and elucidation of all the + mysteries of Masonry past and present, and among the students of this + lodge Sanderson is by no means the least. He followed Clayton's motions + with a singular interest in his reddish eye. “That's not bad,” he said, + when it was done. “You really do, you know, put things together, Clayton, + in a most amazing fashion. But there's one little detail out.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Clayton. “I believe I could tell you which.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “This,” said Clayton, and did a queer little twist and writhing and thrust + of the hands. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That, you know, was what HE couldn't get right,” said Clayton. “But how + do YOU—?” + </p> + <p> + “Most of this business, and particularly how you invented it, I don't + understand at all,” said Sanderson, “but just that phase—I do.” He + reflected. “These happen to be a series of gestures—connected with a + certain branch of esoteric Masonry. Probably you know. Or else—HOW?” + He reflected still further. “I do not see I can do any harm in telling you + just the proper twist. After all, if you know, you know; if you don't, you + don't.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing,” said Clayton, “except what the poor devil let out last + night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyhow,” said Sanderson, and placed his churchwarden very carefully + upon the shelf over the fireplace. Then very rapidly he gesticulated with + his hands. + </p> + <p> + “So?” said Clayton, repeating. + </p> + <p> + “So,” said Sanderson, and took his pipe in hand again. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, NOW,” said Clayton, “I can do the whole thing—right.” + </p> + <p> + He stood up before the waning fire and smiled at us all. But I think there + was just a little hesitation in his smile. “If I begin—” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't begin,” said Wish. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right!” said Evans. “Matter is indestructible. You don't think + any jiggery-pokery of this sort is going to snatch Clayton into the world + of shades. Not it! You may try, Clayton, so far as I'm concerned, until + your arms drop off at the wrists.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe that,” said Wish, and stood up and put his arm on + Clayton's shoulder. “You've made me half believe in that story somehow, + and I don't want to see the thing done!” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness!” said I, “here's Wish frightened!” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said Wish, with real or admirably feigned intensity. “I believe + that if he goes through these motions right he'll GO.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll not do anything of the sort,” I cried. “There's only one way out of + this world for men, and Clayton is thirty years from that. Besides... And + such a ghost! Do you think—?” + </p> + <p> + Wish interrupted me by moving. He walked out from among our chairs and + stopped beside the tole and stood there. “Clayton,” he said, “you're a + fool.” + </p> + <p> + Clayton, with a humorous light in his eyes, smiled back at him. “Wish,” he + said, “is right and all you others are wrong. I shall go. I shall get to + the end of these passes, and as the last swish whistles through the air, + Presto!—this hearthrug will be vacant, the room will be blank + amazement, and a respectably dressed gentleman of fifteen stone will plump + into the world of shades. I'm certain. So will you be. I decline to argue + further. Let the thing be tried.” + </p> + <p> + “NO,” said Wish, and made a step and ceased, and Clayton raised his hands + once more to repeat the spirit's passing. + </p> + <p> + By that time, you know, we were all in a state of tension—largely + because of the behaviour of Wish. We sat all of us with our eyes on + Clayton—I, at least, with a sort of tight, stiff feeling about me as + though from the back of my skull to the middle of my thighs my body had + been changed to steel. And there, with a gravity that was imperturbably + serene, Clayton bowed and swayed and waved his hands and arms before us. + As he drew towards the end one piled up, one tingled in one's teeth. The + last gesture, I have said, was to swing the arms out wide open, with the + face held up. And when at last he swung out to this closing gesture I + ceased even to breathe. It was ridiculous, of course, but you know that + ghost-story feeling. It was after dinner, in a queer, old shadowy house. + Would he, after all—? + </p> + <p> + There he stood for one stupendous moment, with his arms open and his + upturned face, assured and bright, in the glare of the hanging lamp. We + hung through that moment as if it were an age, and then came from all of + us something that was half a sigh of infinite relief and half a reassuring + “NO!” For visibly—he wasn't going. It was all nonsense. He had told + an idle story, and carried it almost to conviction, that was all!... And + then in that moment the face of Clayton, changed. + </p> + <p> + It changed. It changed as a lit house changes when its lights are suddenly + extinguished. His eyes were suddenly eyes that were fixed, his smile was + frozen on his lips, and he stood there still. He stood there, very gently + swaying. + </p> + <p> + That moment, too, was an age. And then, you know, chairs were scraping, + things were falling, and we were all moving. His knees seemed to give, and + he fell forward, and Evans rose and caught him in his arms.... + </p> + <p> + It stunned us all. For a minute I suppose no one said a coherent thing. We + believed it, yet could not believe it.... I came out of a muddled + stupefaction to find myself kneeling beside him, and his vest and shirt + were torn open, and Sanderson's hand lay on his heart.... + </p> + <p> + Well—the simple fact before us could very well wait our convenience; + there was no hurry for us to comprehend. It lay there for an hour; it lies + athwart my memory, black and amazing still, to this day. Clayton had, + indeed, passed into the world that lies so near to and so far from our + own, and he had gone thither by the only road that mortal man may take. + But whether he did indeed pass there by that poor ghost's incantation, or + whether he was stricken suddenly by apoplexy in the midst of an idle tale—as + the coroner's jury would have us believe—is no matter for my + judging; it is just one of those inexplicable riddles that must remain + unsolved until the final solution of all things shall come. All I + certainly know is that, in the very moment, in the very instant, of + concluding those passes, he changed, and staggered, and fell down before + us—dead! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 7. JIMMY GOGGLES THE GOD + </h2> + <p> + “It isn't every one who's been a god,” said the sunburnt man. “But it's + happened to me. Among other things.” + </p> + <p> + I intimated my sense of his condescension. + </p> + <p> + “It don't leave much for ambition, does it?” said the sunburnt man. + </p> + <p> + “I was one of those men who were saved from the Ocean Pioneer. Gummy! how + time flies! It's twenty years ago. I doubt if you'll remember anything of + the Ocean Pioneer?” + </p> + <p> + The name was familiar, and I tried to recall when and where I had read it. + The Ocean Pioneer? “Something about gold dust,” I said vaguely, “but the + precise—” + </p> + <p> + “That's it,” he said. “In a beastly little channel she hadn't no business + in—dodging pirates. It was before they'd put the kybosh on that + business. And there'd been volcanoes or something and all the rocks was + wrong. There's places about by Soona where you fair have to follow the + rocks about to see where they're going next. Down she went in twenty + fathoms before you could have dealt for whist, with fifty thousand pounds + worth of gold aboard, it was said, in one form or another.” + </p> + <p> + “Survivors?” + </p> + <p> + “Three.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember the case now,” I said. “There was something about salvage—” + </p> + <p> + But at the word salvage the sunburnt man exploded into language so + extraordinarily horrible that I stopped aghast. He came down to more + ordinary swearing, and pulled himself up abruptly. “Excuse me,” he said, + “but—salvage!” + </p> + <p> + He leant over towards me. “I was in that job,” he said. “Tried to make + myself a rich man, and got made a god instead. I've got my feelings— + </p> + <p> + “It ain't all jam being a god,” said the sunburnt man, and for some time + conversed by means of such pithy but unprogressive axioms. At last he took + up his tale again. + </p> + <p> + “There was me,” said the sunburnt man, “and a seaman named Jacobs, and + Always, the mate of the Ocean Pioneer. And him it was that set the whole + thing going. I remember him now, when we was in the jolly-boat, suggesting + it all to our minds just by one sentence. He was a wonderful hand at + suggesting things. 'There was forty thousand pounds,' he said, 'on that + ship, and it's for me to say just where she went down.' It didn't need + much brains to tumble to that. And he was the leader from the first to the + last. He got hold of the Sanderses and their brig; they were brothers, and + the brig was the Pride of Banya, and he it was bought the diving-dress—a + second-hand one with a compressed air apparatus instead of pumping. He'd + have done the diving too, if it hadn't made him sick going down. And the + salvage people were mucking about with a chart he'd cooked up, as solemn + as could be, at Starr Race, a hundred and twenty miles away. + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you we was a happy lot aboard that brig, jokes and drink and + bright hopes all the time. It all seemed so neat and clean and + straightforward, and what rough chaps call a 'cert.' And we used to + speculate how the other blessed lot, the proper salvagers, who'd started + two days before us, were getting on, until our sides fairly ached. We all + messed together in the Sanderses' cabin—it was a curious crew, all + officers and no men—and there stood the diving-dress waiting its + turn. Young Sanders was a humorous sort of chap, and there certainly was + something funny in the confounded thing's great fat head and its stare, + and he made us see it too. 'Jimmie Goggles,' he used to call it, and talk + to it like a Christian. Asked if he was married, and how Mrs. Goggles was, + and all the little Goggleses. Fit to make you split. And every blessed day + all of us used to drink the health of Jimmy Goggles in rum, and unscrew + his eye and pour a glass of rum in him, until, instead of that nasty + mackintosheriness, he smelt as nice in his inside as a cask of rum. It was + jolly times we had in those days, I can tell you—little suspecting, + poor chaps! what was a-coming. + </p> + <p> + “We weren't going to throw away our chances by any blessed hurry, you + know, and we spent a whole day sounding our way towards where the Ocean + Pioneer had gone down, right between two chunks of ropy grey rock—lava + rocks that rose nearly out of the water. We had to lay off about half a + mile to get a safe anchorage, and there was a thundering row who should + stop on board. And there she lay just as she had gone down, so that you + could see the top of the masts that was still standing perfectly + distinctly. The row ending in all coming in the boat. I went down in the + diving-dress on Friday morning directly it was light. + </p> + <p> + “What a surprise it was! I can see it all now quite distinctly. It was a + queer-looking place, and the light was just coming. People over here think + every blessed place in the tropics is a flat shore and palm trees and + surf, bless 'em! This place, for instance, wasn't a bit that way. Not + common rocks they were, undermined by waves; but great curved banks like + ironwork cinder heaps, with green slime below, and thorny shrubs and + things just waving upon them here and there, and the water glassy calm and + clear, and showing you a kind of dirty grey-black shine, with huge flaring + red-brown weeds spreading motionless, and crawling and darting things + going through it. And far away beyond the ditches and pools and the heaps + was a forest on the mountain flank, growing again after the fires and + cinder showers of the last eruption. And the other way forest, too, and a + kind of broken—what is it?—ambytheatre of black and rusty + cinders rising out of it all, and the sea in a kind of bay in the middle. + </p> + <p> + “The dawn, I say, was just coming, and there wasn't much colour about + things, and not a human being but ourselves anywhere in sight up or down + the channel. Except the Pride of Banya, lying out beyond a lump of rocks + towards the line of the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Not a human being in sight,” he repeated, and paused. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know where they came from, not a bit. And we were feeling so safe + that we were all alone that poor young Sanders was a-singing. I was in + Jimmy Goggles, all except the helmet. 'Easy,' says Always, 'there's her + mast.' And after I'd had just one squint over the gunwale, I caught up the + bogey and almost tipped out as old Sanders brought the boat round. When + the windows were screwed and everything was all right, I shut the valve + from the air belt in order to help my sinking, and jumped overboard, feet + foremost—for we hadn't a ladder. I left the boat pitching, and all + of them staring down into the water after me, as my head sank down into + the weeds and blackness that lay about the mast. I suppose nobody, not the + most cautious chap in the world, would have bothered about a lookout at + such a desolate place. It stunk of solitude. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you must understand that I was a greenhorn at diving. None of + us were divers. We'd had to muck about with the thing to get the way of + it, and this was the first time I'd been deep. It feels damnable. Your + ears hurt beastly. I don't know if you've ever hurt yourself yawning or + sneezing, but it takes you like that, only ten times worse. And a pain + over the eyebrows here—splitting—and a feeling like influenza + in the head. And it isn't all heaven in your lungs and things. And going + down feels like the beginning of a lift, only it keeps on. And you can't + turn your head to see what's above you, and you can't get a fair squint at + what's happening to your feet without bending down something painful. And + being deep it was dark, let alone the blackness of the ashes and mud that + formed the bottom. It was like going down out of the dawn back into the + night, so to speak. + </p> + <p> + “The mast came up like a ghost out of the black, and then a lot of fishes, + and then a lot of flapping red seaweed, and then whack I came with a kind + of dull bang on the deck of the Ocean Pioneer, and the fishes that had + been feeding on the dead rose about me like a swarm of flies from road + stuff in summer time. I turned on the compressed air again—for the + suit was a bit thick and mackintoshery after all, in spite of the rum—and + stood recovering myself. It struck coolish down there, and that helped + take off the stuffiness a bit. + </p> + <p> + “When I began to feel easier, I started looking about me. It was an + extraordinary sight. Even the light was extraordinary, a kind of + reddy-coloured twilight, on account of the streamers of seaweed that + floated up on either side of the ship. And far overhead just a moony, deep + green-blue. The deck of the ship, except for a slight list to starboard, + was level, and lay all dark and long between the weeds, clear except where + the masts had snapped when she rolled, and vanishing into black night + towards the forecastle. There wasn't any dead on the decks, most were in + the weeds alongside, I suppose; but afterwards I found two skeletons lying + in the passengers' cabins, where death had come to them. It was curious to + stand on that deck and recognise it all, bit by bit; a place against the + rail where I'd been fond of smoking by starlight, and the corner where an + old chap from Sydney used to flirt with a widow we had aboard. A + comfortable couple they'd been, only a month ago, and now you couldn't + have got a meal for a baby crab off either of them. + </p> + <p> + “I've always had a bit of a philosophical turn, and I dare say I spent the + best part of five minutes in such thoughts before I went below to find + where the blessed dust was stored. It was slow work hunting, feeling it + was for the most part, pitchy dark, with confusing blue gleams down the + companion. And there were things moving about, a dab at my glass once, and + once a pinch at my leg. Crabs, I expect. I kicked a lot of loose stuff + that puzzled me, and stooped and picked up something all knobs and spikes. + What do you think? Backbone! But I never had any particular feeling for + bones. We had talked the affair over pretty thoroughly, and Always knew + just where the stuff was stowed. I found it that trip. I lifted a box one + end an inch or more.” + </p> + <p> + He broke off in his story. “I've lifted it,” he said, “as near as that! + Forty thousand pounds worth of pure gold! Gold! I shouted inside my helmet + as a kind of cheer and hurt my ears. I was getting confounded stuffy and + tired by this time—I must have been down twenty-five minutes or more—and + I thought this was good enough. I went up the companion again, and as my + eyes came up flush with the deck, a thundering great crab gave a kind of + hysterical jump and went scuttling off sideways. Quite a start it gave me. + I stood up clear on deck and shut the valve behind the helmet to let the + air accumulate to carry me up again—I noticed a kind of whacking + from above, as though they were hitting the water with an oar, but I + didn't look up. I fancied they were signalling me to come up. + </p> + <p> + “And then something shot down by me—something heavy, and stood + a-quiver in the planks. I looked, and there was a long knife I'd seen + young Sanders handling. Thinks I, he's dropped it, and I was still calling + him this kind of fool and that—for it might have hurt me serious—when + I began to lift and drive up towards the daylight. Just about the level of + the top spars of the Ocean Pioneer, whack! I came against something + sinking down, and a boot knocked in front of my helmet. Then something + else, struggling frightful. It was a big weight atop of me, whatever it + was, and moving and twisting about. I'd have thought it a big octopus, or + some such thing, if it hadn't been for the boot. But octopuses don't wear + boots. It was all in a moment, of course. I felt myself sinking down + again, and I threw my arms about to keep steady, and the whole lot rolled + free of me and shot down as I went up—” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “I saw young Sanders's face, over a naked black shoulder, and a spear + driven clean through his neck, and out of his mouth and neck what looked + like spirts of pink smoke in the water. And down they went clutching one + another, and turning over, and both too far gone to leave go. And in + another second my helmet came a whack, fit to split, against the niggers' + canoe. It was niggers! Two canoes full. + </p> + <p> + “It was lively times, I tell you! Overboard came Always with three spears + in him. There was the legs of three or four black chaps kicking about me + in the water. I couldn't see much, but I saw the game was up at a glance, + gave my valve a tremendous twist, and went bubbling down again after poor + Always, in as awful a state of scare and astonishment as you can well + imagine. I passed young Sanders and the nigger going up again and + struggling still a bit, and in another moment I was standing in the dim + again on the deck of the Ocean Pioneer. + </p> + <p> + “'Gummy,' thinks I, 'here's a fix!' Niggers? At first I couldn't see + anything for it but Stifle below or Stabs above. I didn't properly + understand how much air there was to last me, but I didn't feel like + standing very much more of it down below. I was hot and frightfully heady—quite + apart from the blue funk I was in. We'd never repined with these beastly + natives, filthy Papuan beasts. It wasn't any good, coming up where I was, + but I had to do something. On the spur of the moment, I clambered over the + side of the brig and landed among the weeds, and set off through the + darkness as fast as I could. I just stopped once and knelt, and twisted + back my head in the helmet and had a look up. It was a most extraordinary + bright green-blue above, and the two canoes and the boat floating there + very small and distant like a kind of twisted H. And it made me feel sick + to squint up at it, and think what the pitching and swaying of the three + meant. + </p> + <p> + “It was just about the most horrible ten minutes I ever had, blundering + about in that darkness, pressure something awful, like being buried in + sand, pain across the chest, sick with funk, and breathing nothing as it + seemed but the smell of rum and mackintosh. Gummy! After a bit, I found + myself going up a steepish sort of slope. I had another squint to see if + anything was visible of the canoes and boats, and then kept on. I stopped + with my head a foot from the surface, and tried to see where I was going, + but, of course, nothing was to be seen but the reflection of the bottom. + Then out I dashed like knocking my head through a mirror. Directly I got + my eyes out of the water, I saw I'd come up a kind of beach near the + forest. I had a look round, but the natives and the brig were both hidden + by a big, hummucky heap of twisted lava, the born fool in me suggested a + run for the woods. I didn't take the helmet off, but eased open one of the + windows, and, after a bit of a pant, went on out of the water. You'd + hardly imagine how clean and light the air tasted. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, with four inches of lead in your boot soles, and your head in + a copper knob the size of a football, and been thirty-five minutes under + water, you don't break any records running. I ran like a ploughboy going + to work. And half way to the trees I saw a dozen niggers or more, coming + out in a gaping, astonished sort of way to meet me. + </p> + <p> + “I just stopped dead, and cursed myself for all the fools out of London. I + had about as much chance of cutting back to the water as a turned turtle. + I just screwed up my window again to leave my hands free, and waited for + them. There wasn't anything else for me to do. + </p> + <p> + “But they didn't come on very much. I began to suspect why. 'Jimmy + Goggles,' I says, 'it's your beauty does it.' I was inclined to be a + little light-headed, I think, with all these dangers about and the change + in the pressure of the blessed air. 'Who're ye staring at?' I said, as if + the savages could hear me. 'What d'ye take me for? I'm hanged if I don't + give you something to stare at,' I said, and with that I screwed up the + escape valve and turned on the compressed air from the belt, until I was + swelled out like a blown frog. Regular imposing it must have been. I'm + blessed if they'd come on a step; and presently one and then another went + down on their hands and knees. They didn't know what to make of me, and + they was doing the extra polite, which was very wise and reasonable of + them. I had half a mind to edge back seaward and cut and run, but it + seemed too hopeless. A step back and they'd have been after me. And out of + sheer desperation I began to march towards them up the beach, with slow, + heavy steps, and waving my blown-out arms about, in a dignified manner. + And inside of me I was singing as small as a tomtit. + </p> + <p> + “But there's nothing like a striking appearance to help a man over a + difficulty,—I've found that before and since. People like ourselves, + who're up to diving-dresses by the time we're seven, can scarcely imagine + the effect of one on a simple-minded savage. One or two of these niggers + cut and run, the others started in a great hurry trying to knock their + brains out on the ground. And on I went as slow and solemn and + silly-looking and artful as a jobbing plumber. It was evident they took me + for something immense. + </p> + <p> + “Then up jumped one and began pointing, making extraordinary gestures to + me as he did so, and all the others began sharing their attention between + me and something out at sea. 'What's the matter now?' I said. I turned + slowly on account of my dignity, and there I saw, coming round a point, + the poor old Pride of Banya towed by a couple of canoes. The sight fairly + made me sick. But they evidently expected some recognition, so I waved my + arms in a striking sort of non-committal manner. And then I turned and + stalked on towards the trees again. At that time I was praying like mad, I + remember, over and over again: 'Lord help me through with it! Lord help me + through with it!' It's only fools who know nothing of dangers can afford + to laugh at praying. + </p> + <p> + “But these niggers weren't going to let me walk through and away like + that. They started a kind of bowing dance about me, and sort of pressed me + to take a pathway that lay through the trees. It was clear to me they + didn't take me for a British citizen, whatever else they thought of me, + and for my own part I was never less anxious to own up to the old country. + </p> + <p> + “You'd hardly believe it, perhaps, unless you're familiar with savages, + but these poor misguided, ignorant creatures took me straight to their + kind of joss place to present me to the blessed old black stone there. By + this time I was beginning to sort of realise the depth of their ignorance, + and directly I set eyes on this deity I took my cue. I started a baritone + howl, 'wow-wow,' very long on one note, and began waving my arms about a + lot, and then very slowly and ceremoniously turned their image over on its + side and sat down on it. I wanted to sit down badly, for diving-dresses + ain't much wear in the tropics. Or, to put it different like, they're a + sight too much. It took away their breath, I could see, my sitting on + their joss, but in less time than a minute they made up their minds and + were hard at work worshipping me. And I can tell you I felt a bit relieved + to see things turning out so well, in spite of the weight on my shoulders + and feet. + </p> + <p> + “But what made me anxious was what the chaps in the canoes might think + when they came back. If they'd seen me in the boat before I went down, and + without the helmet on—for they might have been spying and hiding + since over night—they would very likely take a different view from + the others. I was in a deuce of a stew about that for hours, as it seemed, + until the shindy of the arrival began. + </p> + <p> + “But they took it down—the whole blessed village took it down. At + the cost of sitting up stiff and stern, as much like those sitting + Egyptian images one sees as I could manage, for pretty nearly twelve + hours, I should guess at least, on end, I got over it. You'd hardly think + what it meant in that heat and stink. I don't think any of them dreamt of + the man inside. I was just a wonderful leathery great joss that had come + up with luck out of the water. But the fatigue! the heat! the beastly + closeness! the mackintosheriness and the rum! and the fuss! They lit a + stinking fire on a kind of lava slab there was before me, and brought in a + lot of gory muck—the worst parts of what they were feasting on + outside, the Beasts—and burnt it all in my honour. I was getting a + bit hungry, but I understand now how gods manage to do without eating, + what with the smell of burnt offerings about them. And they brought in a + lot of the stuff they'd got off the brig and, among other stuff, what I + was a bit relieved to see, the kind of pneumatic pump that was used for + the compressed air affair, and then a lot of chaps and girls came in and + danced about me something disgraceful. It's extraordinary the different + ways different people have of showing respect. If I'd had a hatchet handy + I'd have gone for the lot of them—they made me feel that wild. All + this time I sat as stiff as company, not knowing anything better to do. + And at last, when nightfall came, and the wattle joss-house place got a + bit too shadowy for their taste—all these here savages are afraid of + the dark, you know—and I started a sort of 'Moo' noise, they built + big bonfires outside and left me alone in peace in the darkness of my hut, + free to unscrew my windows a bit and think things over, and feel just as + bad as I liked. And, Lord! I was sick. + </p> + <p> + “I was weak and hungry, and my mind kept on behaving like a beetle on a + pin, tremendous activity and nothing done at the end of it. Come round + just where it was before. There was sorrowing for the other chaps, beastly + drunkards certainly, but not deserving such a fate, and young Sanders with + the spear through his neck wouldn't go out of my mind. There was the + treasure down there in the Ocean Pioneer, and how one might get it and + hide it somewhere safer, and get away and come back for it. And there was + the puzzle where to get anything to eat. I tell you I was fair rambling. I + was afraid to ask by signs for food, for fear of behaving too human, and + so there I sat and hungered until very near the dawn. Then the village got + a bit quiet, and I couldn't stand it any longer, and I went out and got + some stuff like artichokes in a bowl and some sour milk. What was left of + these I put away among the other offerings, just to give them a hint of my + tastes. And in the morning they came to worship, and found me sitting up + stiff and respectable on their previous god, just as they'd left me + overnight. I'd got my back against the central pillar of the hut, and, + practically, I was asleep. And that's how I became a god among the heathen—a + false god no doubt, and blasphemous, but one can't always pick and choose. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I don't want to crack myself up as a god beyond my merits, but I + must confess that while I was god to these people they was extraordinary + successful. I don't say there's anything in it, mind you. They won a + battle with another tribe—I got a lot of offerings I didn't want + through it—they had wonderful fishing, and their crop of pourra was + exceptional fine. And they counted the capture of the brig among the + benefits I brought 'em. I must say I don't think that was a poor record + for a perfectly new hand. And, though perhaps you'd scarcely credit it, I + was the tribal god of those beastly savages for pretty nearly four + months.... + </p> + <p> + “What else could I do, man? But I didn't wear that diving-dress all the + time. I made 'em rig me up a sort of holy of holies, and a deuce of a time + I had too, making them understand what it was I wanted them to do. That + indeed was the great difficulty—making them understand my wishes. I + couldn't let myself down by talking their lingo badly—even if I'd + been able to speak at all—and I couldn't go flapping a lot of + gestures at them. So I drew pictures in sand and sat down beside them and + hooted like one o'clock. Sometimes they did the things I wanted all right, + and sometimes they did them all wrong. They was always very willing, + certainly. All the while I was puzzling how I was to get the confounded + business settled. Every night before the dawn I used to march out in full + rig and go off to a place where I could see the channel in which the Ocean + Pioneer lay sunk, and once even, one moonlight night, I tried to walk out + to her, but the weeds and rocks and dark clean beat me. I didn't get back + till full day, and then I found all those silly niggers out on the beach + praying their sea-god to return to them. I was that vexed and tired, + messing and tumbling about, and coming up and going down again, I could + have punched their silly heads all round when they started rejoicing. I'm + hanged if I like so much ceremony. + </p> + <p> + “And then came the missionary. That missionary! It was in the afternoon, + and I was sitting in state in my outer temple place, sitting on that old + black stone of theirs when he came. I heard a row outside and jabbering, + and then his voice speaking to an interpreter. 'They worship stocks and + stones,' he said, and I knew what was up, in a flash. I had one of my + windows out for comfort, and I sang out straight away on the spur of the + moment. 'Stocks and stones!' I says. 'You come inside,' I says, 'and I'll + punch your blooming head.' There was a kind of silence and more jabbering, + and in he came, Bible in hand, after the manner of them—a little + sandy chap in specks and a pith helmet. I flatter myself that me sitting + there in the shadows, with my copper head and my big goggles, struck him a + bit of a heap at first. 'Well,' I says, 'how's the trade in calico?' for I + don't hold with missionaries. + </p> + <p> + “I had a lark with that missionary. He was a raw hand, and quite + outclassed with a man like me. He gasped out who was I, and I told him to + read the inscription at my feet if he wanted to know. Down he goes to + read, and his interpreter, being of course as superstitious as any of + them, took it as an act of worship and plumped down like a shot. All my + people gave a howl of triumph, and there wasn't any more business to be + done in my village after that journey, not by the likes of him. + </p> + <p> + “But, of course, I was a fool to choke him off like that. If I'd had any + sense I should have told him straight away of the treasure and taken him + into Co. I've no doubt he'd have come into Co. A child, with a few hours + to think it over, could have seen the connection between my diving-dress + and the loss of the Ocean Pioneer. A week after he left I went out one + morning and saw the Motherhood, the salver's ship from Starr Race, towing + up the channel and sounding. The whole blessed game was up, and all my + trouble thrown away. Gummy! How wild I felt! And guying it in that + stinking silly dress! Four months!” + </p> + <p> + The sunburnt man's story degenerated again. “Think of it,” he said, when + he emerged to linguistic purity once more. “Forty thousand pounds worth of + gold.” + </p> + <p> + “Did the little missionary come back?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! Bless him! And he pledged his reputation there was a man inside + the god, and started out to see as much with tremendous ceremony. But + there wasn't—he got sold again. I always did hate scenes and + explanations, and long before he came I was out of it all—going home + to Banya along the coast, hiding in bushes by day, and thieving food from + the villages by night. Only weapon, a spear. No clothes, no money. + Nothing. My face was my fortune, as the saying is. And just a squeak of + eight thousand pounds of gold—fifth share. But the natives cut up + rusty, thank goodness, because they thought it was him had driven their + luck away.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 8. THE NEW ACCELERATOR + </h2> + <p> + Certainly, if ever a man found a guinea when he was looking for a pin it + is my good friend Professor Gibberne. I have heard before of investigators + overshooting the mark, but never quite to the extent that he has done. He + has really, this time at any rate, without any touch of exaggeration in + the phrase, found something to revolutionise human life. And that when he + was simply seeking an all-round nervous stimulant to bring languid people + up to the stresses of these pushful days. I have tasted the stuff now + several times, and I cannot do better than describe the effect the thing + had on me. That there are astonishing experiences in store for all in + search of new sensations will become apparent enough. + </p> + <p> + Professor Gibberne, as many people know, is my neighbour in Folkestone. + Unless my memory plays me a trick, his portrait at various ages has + already appeared in The Strand Magazine—I think late in 1899; but I + am unable to look it up because I have lent that volume to some one who + has never sent it back. The reader may, perhaps, recall the high forehead + and the singularly long black eyebrows that give such a Mephistophelian + touch to his face. He occupies one of those pleasant little detached + houses in the mixed style that make the western end of the Upper Sandgate + Road so interesting. His is the one with the Flemish gables and the + Moorish portico, and it is in the little room with the mullioned bay + window that he works when he is down here, and in which of an evening we + have so often smoked and talked together. He is a mighty jester, but, + besides, he likes to talk to me about his work; he is one of those men who + find a help and stimulus in talking, and so I have been able to follow the + conception of the New Accelerator right up from a very early stage. Of + course, the greater portion of his experimental work is not done in + Folkestone, but in Gower Street, in the fine new laboratory next to the + hospital that he has been the first to use. + </p> + <p> + As every one knows, or at least as all intelligent people know, the + special department in which Gibberne has gained so great and deserved a + reputation among physiologists is the action of drugs upon the nervous + system. Upon soporifics, sedatives, and anaesthetics he is, I am told, + unequalled. He is also a chemist of considerable eminence, and I suppose + in the subtle and complex jungle of riddles that centres about the + ganglion cell and the axis fibre there are little cleared places of his + making, little glades of illumination, that, until he sees fit to publish + his results, are still inaccessible to every other living man. And in the + last few years he has been particularly assiduous upon this question of + nervous stimulants, and already, before the discovery of the New + Accelerator, very successful with them. Medical science has to thank him + for at least three distinct and absolutely safe invigorators of unrivalled + value to practising men. In cases of exhaustion the preparation known as + Gibberne's B Syrup has, I suppose, saved more lives already than any + lifeboat round the coast. + </p> + <p> + “But none of these little things begin to satisfy me yet,” he told me + nearly a year ago. “Either they increase the central energy without + affecting the nerves or they simply increase the available energy by + lowering the nervous conductivity; and all of them are unequal and local + in their operation. One wakes up the heart and viscera and leaves the + brain stupefied, one gets at the brain champagne fashion and does nothing + good for the solar plexus, and what I want—and what, if it's an + earthly possibility, I mean to have—is a stimulant that stimulates + all round, that wakes you up for a time from the crown of your head to the + tip of your great toe, and makes you go two—or even three—to + everybody else's one. Eh? That's the thing I'm after.” + </p> + <p> + “It would tire a man,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Not a doubt of it. And you'd eat double or treble—and all that. But + just think what the thing would mean. Imagine yourself with a little phial + like this”—he held up a little bottle of green glass and marked his + points with it—“and in this precious phial is the power to think + twice as fast, move twice as quickly, do twice as much work in a given + time as you could otherwise do.” + </p> + <p> + “But is such a thing possible?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so. If it isn't, I've wasted my time for a year. These various + preparations of the hypophosphites, for example, seem to show that + something of the sort... Even if it was only one and a half times as fast + it would do.” + </p> + <p> + “It WOULD do,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “If you were a statesman in a corner, for example, time rushing up against + you, something urgent to be done, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “He could dose his private secretary,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “And gain—double time. And think if YOU, for example, wanted to + finish a book.” + </p> + <p> + “Usually,” I said, “I wish I'd never begun 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Or a doctor, driven to death, wants to sit down and think out a case. Or + a barrister—or a man cramming for an examination.” + </p> + <p> + “Worth a guinea a drop,” said I, “and more to men like that.” + </p> + <p> + “And in a duel, again,” said Gibberne, “where it all depends on your + quickness in pulling the trigger.” + </p> + <p> + “Or in fencing,” I echoed. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said Gibberne, “if I get it as an all-round thing it will + really do you no harm at all—except perhaps to an infinitesimal + degree it brings you nearer old age. You will just have lived twice to + other people's once—” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” I meditated, “in a duel—it would be fair?” + </p> + <p> + “That's a question for the seconds,” said Gibberne. + </p> + <p> + I harked back further. “And you really think such a thing IS possible?” I + said. + </p> + <p> + “As possible,” said Gibberne, and glanced at something that went throbbing + by the window, “as a motor-bus. As a matter of fact—” + </p> + <p> + He paused and smiled at me deeply, and tapped slowly on the edge of his + desk with the green phial. “I think I know the stuff.... Already I've got + something coming.” The nervous smile upon his face betrayed the gravity of + his revelation. He rarely talked of his actual experimental work unless + things were very near the end. “And it may be, it may be—I shouldn't + be surprised—it may even do the thing at a greater rate than twice.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be rather a big thing,” I hazarded. + </p> + <p> + “It will be, I think, rather a big thing.” + </p> + <p> + But I don't think he quite knew what a big thing it was to be, for all + that. + </p> + <p> + I remember we had several talks about the stuff after that. “The New + Accelerator” he called it, and his tone about it grew more confident on + each occasion. Sometimes he talked nervously of unexpected physiological + results its use might have, and then he would get a little unhappy; at + others he was frankly mercenary, and we debated long and anxiously how the + preparation might be turned to commercial account. “It's a good thing,” + said Gibberne, “a tremendous thing. I know I'm giving the world something, + and I think it only reasonable we should expect the world to pay. The + dignity of science is all very well, but I think somehow I must have the + monopoly of the stuff for, say, ten years. I don't see why ALL the fun in + life should go to the dealers in ham.” + </p> + <p> + My own interest in the coming drug certainly did not wane in the time. I + have always had a queer little twist towards metaphysics in my mind. I + have always been given to paradoxes about space and time, and it seemed to + me that Gibberne was really preparing no less than the absolute + acceleration of life. Suppose a man repeatedly dosed with such a + preparation: he would live an active and record life indeed, but he would + be an adult at eleven, middle-aged at twenty-five, and by thirty well on + the road to senile decay. It seemed to me that so far Gibberne was only + going to do for any one who took his drug exactly what Nature has done for + the Jews and Orientals, who are men in their teens and aged by fifty, and + quicker in thought and act than we are all the time. The marvel of drugs + has always been great to my mind; you can madden a man, calm a man, make + him incredibly strong and alert or a helpless log, quicken this passion + and allay that, all by means of drugs, and here was a new miracle to be + added to this strange armoury of phials the doctors use! But Gibberne was + far too eager upon his technical points to enter very keenly into my + aspect of the question. + </p> + <p> + It was the 7th or 8th of August when he told me the distillation that + would decide his failure or success for a time was going forward as we + talked, and it was on the 10th that he told me the thing was done and the + New Accelerator a tangible reality in the world. I met him as I was going + up the Sandgate Hill towards Folkestone—I think I was going to get + my hair cut, and he came hurrying down to meet me—I suppose he was + coming to my house to tell me at once of his success. I remember that his + eyes were unusually bright and his face flushed, and I noted even then the + swift alacrity of his step. + </p> + <p> + “It's done,” he cried, and gripped my hand, speaking very fast; “it's more + than done. Come up to my house and see.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Really!” he shouted. “Incredibly! Come up and see.” + </p> + <p> + “And it does—twice? + </p> + <p> + “It does more, much more. It scares me. Come up and see the stuff. Taste + it! Try it! It's the most amazing stuff on earth.” He gripped my arm and, + walking at such a pace that he forced me into a trot, went shouting with + me up the hill. A whole char-a-banc-ful of people turned and stared at us + in unison after the manner of people in chars-a-banc. It was one of those + hot, clear days that Folkestone sees so much of, every colour incredibly + bright and every outline hard. There was a breeze, of course, but not so + much breeze as sufficed under these conditions to keep me cool and dry. I + panted for mercy. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not walking fast, am I?” cried Gibberne, and slackened his pace to a + quick march. + </p> + <p> + “You've been taking some of this stuff,” I puffed. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “At the utmost a drop of water that stood in a beaker from + which I had washed out the last traces of the stuff. I took some last + night, you know. But that is ancient history, now.” + </p> + <p> + “And it goes twice?” I said, nearing his doorway in a grateful + perspiration. + </p> + <p> + “It goes a thousand times, many thousand times!” cried Gibberne, with a + dramatic gesture, flinging open his Early English carved oak gate. + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” said I, and followed him to the door. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know how many times it goes,” he said, with his latch-key in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “And you—” + </p> + <p> + “It throws all sorts of light on nervous physiology, it kicks the theory + of vision into a perfectly new shape!... Heaven knows how many thousand + times. We'll try all that after—The thing is to try the stuff now.” + </p> + <p> + “Try the stuff?” I said, as we went along the passage. + </p> + <p> + “Rather,” said Gibberne, turning on me in his study. “There it is in that + little green phial there! Unless you happen to be afraid?” + </p> + <p> + I am a careful man by nature, and only theoretically adventurous. I WAS + afraid. But on the other hand there is pride. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I haggled. “You say you've tried it?” + </p> + <p> + “I've tried it,” he said, “and I don't look hurt by it, do I? I don't even + look livery and I FEEL—” + </p> + <p> + I sat down. “Give me the potion,” I said. “If the worst comes to the worst + it will save having my hair cut, and that I think is one of the most + hateful duties of a civilised man. How do you take the mixture?” + </p> + <p> + “With water,” said Gibberne, whacking down a carafe. + </p> + <p> + He stood up in front of his desk and regarded me in his easy chair; his + manner was suddenly affected by a touch of the Harley Street specialist. + “It's rum stuff, you know,” he said. + </p> + <p> + I made a gesture with my hand. + </p> + <p> + “I must warn you in the first place as soon as you've got it down to shut + your eyes, and open them very cautiously in a minute or so's time. One + still sees. The sense of vision is a question of length of vibration, and + not of multitude of impacts; but there's a kind of shock to the retina, a + nasty giddy confusion just at the time, if the eyes are open. Keep 'em + shut.” + </p> + <p> + “Shut,” I said. “Good!” + </p> + <p> + “And the next thing is, keep still. Don't begin to whack about. You may + fetch something a nasty rap if you do. Remember you will be going several + thousand times faster than you ever did before, heart, lungs, muscles, + brain—everything—and you will hit hard without knowing it. You + won't know it, you know. You'll feel just as you do now. Only everything + in the world will seem to be going ever so many thousand times slower than + it ever went before. That's what makes it so deuced queer.” + </p> + <p> + “Lor',” I said. “And you mean—” + </p> + <p> + “You'll see,” said he, and took up a little measure. He glanced at the + material on his desk. “Glasses,” he said, “water. All here. Mustn't take + too much for the first attempt.” + </p> + <p> + The little phial glucked out its precious contents. + </p> + <p> + “Don't forget what I told you,” he said, turning the contents of the + measure into a glass in the manner of an Italian waiter measuring whisky. + “Sit with the eyes tightly shut and in absolute stillness for two + minutes,” he said. “Then you will hear me speak.” + </p> + <p> + He added an inch or so of water to the little dose in each glass. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-by,” he said, “don't put your glass down. Keep it in your hand and + rest your hand on your knee. Yes—so. And now—” + </p> + <p> + He raised his glass. + </p> + <p> + “The New Accelerator,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “The New Accelerator,” he answered, and we touched glasses and drank, and + instantly I closed my eyes. + </p> + <p> + You know that blank non-existence into which one drops when one has taken + “gas.” For an indefinite interval it was like that. Then I heard Gibberne + telling me to wake up, and I stirred and opened my eyes. There he stood as + he had been standing, glass still in hand. It was empty, that was all the + difference. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing out of the way?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. A slight feeling of exhilaration, perhaps. Nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “Sounds?” + </p> + <p> + “Things are still,” I said. “By Jove! yes! They ARE still. Except the sort + of faint pat, patter, like rain falling on different things. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Analysed sounds,” I think he said, but I am not sure. He glanced at the + window. “Have you ever seen a curtain before a window fixed in that way + before?” + </p> + <p> + I followed his eyes, and there was the end of the curtain, frozen, as it + were, corner high, in the act of flapping briskly in the breeze. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I; “that's odd.” + </p> + <p> + “And here,” he said, and opened the hand that held the glass. Naturally I + winced, expecting the glass to smash. But so far from smashing it did not + even seem to stir; it hung in mid-air—motionless. + </p> + <p> + “Roughly speaking,” said Gibberne, “an object in these latitudes falls 16 + feet in the first second. This glass is falling 16 feet in a second now. + Only, you see, it hasn't been falling yet for the hundredth part of a + second. That gives you some idea of the pace of my Accelerator.” And he + waved his hand round and round, over and under the slowly sinking glass. + Finally, he took it by the bottom, pulled it down, and placed it very + carefully on the table. “Eh?” he said to me, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “That seems all right,” I said, and began very gingerly to raise myself + from my chair. I felt perfectly well, very light and comfortable, and + quite confident in my mind. I was going fast all over. My heart, for + example, was beating a thousand times a second, but that caused me no + discomfort at all. I looked out of the window. An immovable cyclist, head + down and with a frozen puff of dust behind his driving-wheel, scorched to + overtake a galloping char-a-banc that did not stir. I gaped in amazement + at this incredible spectacle. “Gibberne,” I cried, “how long will this + confounded stuff last?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows!” he answered. “Last time I took it I went to bed and slept + it off. I tell you, I was frightened. It must have lasted some minutes, I + think—it seemed like hours. But after a bit it slows down rather + suddenly, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + I was proud to observe that I did not feel frightened—I suppose + because there were two of us. “Why shouldn't we go out?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “They'll see us.” + </p> + <p> + “Not they. Goodness, no! Why, we shall be going a thousand times faster + than the quickest conjuring trick that was ever done. Come along! Which + way shall we go? Window, or door?” + </p> + <p> + And out by the window we went. + </p> + <p> + Assuredly of all the strange experiences that I have ever had, or + imagined, or read of other people having or imagining, that little raid I + made with Gibberne on the Folkestone Leas, under the influence of the New + Accelerator, was the strangest and maddest of all. We went out by his gate + into the road, and there we made a minute examination of the statuesque + passing traffic. The tops of the wheels and some of the legs of the horses + of this char-a-banc, the end of the whip-lash and the lower jaw of the + conductor—who was just beginning to yawn—were perceptibly in + motion, but all the rest of the lumbering conveyance seemed still. And + quite noiseless except for a faint rattling that came from one man's + throat! And as parts of this frozen edifice there were a driver, you know, + and a conductor, and eleven people! The effect as we walked about the + thing began by being madly queer, and ended by being disagreeable. There + they were, people like ourselves and yet not like ourselves, frozen in + careless attitudes, caught in mid-gesture. A girl and a man smiled at one + another, a leering smile that threatened to last for evermore; a woman in + a floppy capelline rested her arm on the rail and stared at Gibberne's + house with the unwinking stare of eternity; a man stroked his moustache + like a figure of wax, and another stretched a tiresome stiff hand with + extended fingers towards his loosened hat. We stared at them, we laughed + at them, we made faces at them, and then a sort of disgust of them came + upon us, and we turned away and walked round in front of the cyclist + towards the Leas. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness!” cried Gibberne, suddenly; “look there!” + </p> + <p> + He pointed, and there at the tip of his finger and sliding down the air + with wings flapping slowly and at the speed of an exceptionally languid + snail—was a bee. + </p> + <p> + And so we came out upon the Leas. There the thing seemed madder than ever. + The band was playing in the upper stand, though all the sound it made for + us was a low-pitched, wheezy rattle, a sort of prolonged last sigh that + passed at times into a sound like the slow, muffled ticking of some + monstrous clock. Frozen people stood erect, strange, silent, + self-conscious-looking dummies hung unstably in mid-stride, promenading + upon the grass. I passed close to a little poodle dog suspended in the act + of leaping, and watched the slow movement of his legs as he sank to earth. + “Lord, look here!” cried Gibberne, and we halted for a moment before a + magnificent person in white faint-striped flannels, white shoes, and a + Panama hat, who turned back to wink at two gaily dressed ladies he had + passed. A wink, studied with such leisurely deliberation as we could + afford, is an unattractive thing. It loses any quality of alert gaiety, + and one remarks that the winking eye does not completely close, that under + its drooping lid appears the lower edge of an eyeball and a little line of + white. “Heaven give me memory,” said I, “and I will never wink again.” + </p> + <p> + “Or smile,” said Gibberne, with his eye on the lady's answering teeth. + </p> + <p> + “It's infernally hot, somehow,” said I. “Let's go slower.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come along!” said Gibberne. + </p> + <p> + We picked our way among the bath-chairs in the path. Many of the people + sitting in the chairs seemed almost natural in their passive poses, but + the contorted scarlet of the bandsmen was not a restful thing to see. A + purple-faced little gentleman was frozen in the midst of a violent + struggle to refold his newspaper against the wind; there were many + evidences that all these people in their sluggish way were exposed to a + considerable breeze, a breeze that had no existence so far as our + sensations went. We came out and walked a little way from the crowd, and + turned and regarded it. To see all that multitude changed, to a picture, + smitten rigid, as it were, into the semblance of realistic wax, was + impossibly wonderful. It was absurd, of course; but it filled me with an + irrational, an exultant sense of superior advantage. Consider the wonder + of it! All that I had said, and thought, and done since the stuff had + begun to work in my veins had happened, so far as those people, so far as + the world in general went, in the twinkling of an eye. “The New + Accelerator—” I began, but Gibberne interrupted me. + </p> + <p> + “There's that infernal old woman!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What old woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Lives next door to me,” said Gibberne. “Has a lapdog that yaps. Gods! The + temptation is strong!” + </p> + <p> + There is something very boyish and impulsive about Gibberne at times. + Before I could expostulate with him he had dashed forward, snatched the + unfortunate animal out of visible existence, and was running violently + with it towards the cliff of the Leas. It was most extraordinary. The + little brute, you know, didn't bark or wriggle or make the slightest sign + of vitality. It kept quite stiffly in an attitude of somnolent repose, and + Gibberne held it by the neck. It was like running about with a dog of + wood. “Gibberne,” I cried, “put it down!” Then I said something else. “If + you run like that, Gibberne,” I cried, “you'll set your clothes on fire. + Your linen trousers are going brown as it is!” + </p> + <p> + He clapped his hand on his thigh and stood hesitating on the verge. + “Gibberne,” I cried, coming up, “put it down. This heat is too much! It's + our running so! Two or three miles a second! Friction of the air!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” he said, glancing at the dog. + </p> + <p> + “Friction of the air,” I shouted. “Friction of the air. Going too fast. + Like meteorites and things. Too hot. And, Gibberne! Gibberne! I'm all over + pricking and a sort of perspiration. You can see people stirring slightly. + I believe the stuff's working off! Put that dog down.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It's working off,” I repeated. “We're too hot and the stuff's working + off! I'm wet through.” + </p> + <p> + He stared at me. Then at the band, the wheezy rattle of whose performance + was certainly going faster. Then with a tremendous sweep of the arm he + hurled the dog away from him and it went spinning upward, still inanimate, + and hung at last over the grouped parasols of a knot of chattering people. + Gibberne was gripping my elbow. “By Jove!” he cried. “I believe—it + is! A sort of hot pricking and—yes. That man's moving his + pocket-handkerchief! Perceptibly. We must get out of this sharp.” + </p> + <p> + But we could not get out of it sharply enough. Luckily, perhaps! For we + might have run, and if we had run we should, I believe, have burst into + flames. Almost certainly we should have burst into flames! You know we had + neither of us thought of that.... But before we could even begin to run + the action of the drug had ceased. It was the business of a minute + fraction of a second. The effect of the New Accelerator passed like the + drawing of a curtain, vanished in the movement of a hand. I heard + Gibberne's voice in infinite alarm. “Sit down,” he said, and flop, down + upon the turf at the edge of the Leas I sat—scorching as I sat. + There is a patch of burnt grass there still where I sat down. The whole + stagnation seemed to wake up as I did so, the disarticulated vibration of + the band rushed together into a blast of music, the promenaders put their + feet down and walked their ways, the papers and flags began flapping, + smiles passed into words, the winker finished his wink and went on his way + complacently, and all the seated people moved and spoke. + </p> + <p> + The whole world had come alive again, was going as fast as we were, or + rather we were going no faster than the rest of the world. It was like + slowing down as one comes into a railway station. Everything seemed to + spin round for a second or two, I had the most transient feeling of + nausea, and that was all. And the little dog which had seemed to hang for + a moment when the force of Gibberne's arm was expended fell with a swift + acceleration clean through a lady's parasol! + </p> + <p> + That was the saving of us. Unless it was for one corpulent old gentleman + in a bath-chair, who certainly did start at the sight of us and afterwards + regarded us at intervals with a darkly suspicious eye, and, finally, I + believe, said something to his nurse about us, I doubt if a solitary + person remarked our sudden appearance among them. Plop! We must have + appeared abruptly. We ceased to smoulder almost at once, though the turf + beneath me was uncomfortably hot. The attention of every one—including + even the Amusements' Association band, which on this occasion, for the + only time in its history, got out of tune—was arrested by the + amazing fact, and the still more amazing yapping and uproar caused by the + fact that a respectable, over-fed lap-dog sleeping quietly to the east of + the bandstand should suddenly fall through the parasol of a lady on the + west—in a slightly singed condition due to the extreme velocity of + its movements through the air. In these absurd days, too, when we are all + trying to be as psychic, and silly, and superstitious as possible! People + got up and trod on other people, chairs were overturned, the Leas + policeman ran. How the matter settled itself I do not know—we were + much too anxious to disentangle ourselves from the affair and get out of + range of the eye of the old gentleman in the bath-chair to make minute + inquiries. As soon as we were sufficiently cool and sufficiently recovered + from our giddiness and nausea and confusion of mind to do so we stood up + and, skirting the crowd, directed our steps back along the road below the + Metropole towards Gibberne's house. But amidst the din I heard very + distinctly the gentleman who had been sitting beside the lady of the + ruptured sunshade using quite unjustifiable threats and language to one of + those chair-attendants who have “Inspector” written on their caps. “If you + didn't throw the dog,” he said, “who DID?” + </p> + <p> + The sudden return of movement and familiar noises, and our natural anxiety + about ourselves (our clothe's were still dreadfully hot, and the fronts of + the thighs of Gibberne's white trousers were scorched a drabbish brown), + prevented the minute observations I should have liked to make on all these + things. Indeed, I really made no observations of any scientific value on + that return. The bee, of course, had gone. I looked for that cyclist, but + he was already out of sight as we came into the Upper Sandgate Road or + hidden from us by traffic; the char-a-banc, however, with its people now + all alive and stirring, was clattering along at a spanking pace almost + abreast of the nearer church. + </p> + <p> + We noted, however, that the window-sill on which we had stepped in getting + out of the house was slightly singed, and that the impressions of our feet + on the gravel of the path were unusually deep. + </p> + <p> + So it was I had my first experience of the New Accelerator. Practically we + had been running about and saying and doing all sorts of things in the + space of a second or so of time. We had lived half an hour while the band + had played, perhaps, two bars. But the effect it had upon us was that the + whole world had stopped for our convenient inspection. Considering all + things, and particularly considering our rashness in venturing out of the + house, the experience might certainly have been much more disagreeable + than it was. It showed, no doubt, that Gibberne has still much to learn + before his preparation is a manageable convenience, but its practicability + it certainly demonstrated beyond all cavil. + </p> + <p> + Since that adventure he has been steadily bringing its use under control, + and I have several times, and without the slightest bad result, taken + measured doses under his direction; though I must confess I have not yet + ventured abroad again while under its influence. I may mention, for + example, that this story has been written at one sitting and without + interruption, except for the nibbling of some chocolate, by its means. I + began at 6.25, and my watch is now very nearly at the minute past the + half-hour. The convenience of securing a long, uninterrupted spell of work + in the midst of a day full of engagements cannot be exaggerated. Gibberne + is now working at the quantitative handling of his preparation, with + especial reference to its distinctive effects upon different types of + constitution. He then hopes to find a Retarder with which to dilute its + present rather excessive potency. The Retarder will, of course, have the + reverse effect to the Accelerator; used alone it should enable the patient + to spread a few seconds over many hours of ordinary time,—and so to + maintain an apathetic inaction, a glacier-like absence of alacrity, amidst + the most animated or irritating surroundings. The two things together must + necessarily work an entire revolution in civilised existence. It is the + beginning of our escape from that Time Garment of which Carlyle speaks. + While this Accelerator will enable us to concentrate ourselves with + tremendous impact upon any moment or occasion that demands our utmost + sense and vigour, the Retarder will enable us to pass in passive + tranquillity through infinite hardship and tedium. Perhaps I am a little + optimistic about the Retarder, which has indeed still to be discovered, + but about the Accelerator there is no possible sort of doubt whatever. Its + appearance upon the market in a convenient, controllable, and assimilable + form is a matter of the next few months. It will be obtainable of all + chemists and druggists, in small green bottles, at a high but, considering + its extraordinary qualities, by no means excessive price. Gibberne's + Nervous Accelerator it will be called, and he hopes to be able to supply + it in three strengths: one in 200, one in 900, and one in 2000, + distinguished by yellow, pink, and white labels respectively. + </p> + <p> + No doubt its use renders a great number of very extraordinary things + possible; for, of course, the most remarkable and, possibly, even criminal + proceedings may be effected with impunity by thus dodging, as it were, + into the interstices of time. Like all potent preparations it will be + liable to abuse. We have, however, discussed this aspect of the question + very thoroughly, and we have decided that this is purely a matter of + medical jurisprudence and altogether outside our province. We shall + manufacture and sell the Accelerator, and, as for the consequences—we + shall see. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 9. MR. LEDBETTER'S VACATION + </h2> + <p> + My friend, Mr. Ledbetter, is a round-faced little man, whose natural + mildness of eye is gigantically exaggerated when you catch the beam + through his glasses, and whose deep, deliberate voice irritates irritable + people. A certain elaborate clearness of enunciation has come with him to + his present vicarage from his scholastic days, an elaborate clearness of + enunciation and a certain nervous determination to be firm and correct + upon all issues, important and unimportant alike. He is a sacerdotalist + and a chess player, and suspected by many of the secret practice of the + higher mathematics—creditable rather than interesting things. His + conversation is copious and given much to needless detail. By many, + indeed, his intercourse is condemned, to put it plainly, as “boring,” and + such have even done me the compliment to wonder why I countenance him. + But, on the other hand, there is a large faction who marvel at his + countenancing such a dishevelled, discreditable acquaintance as myself. + Few appear to regard our friendship with equanimity. But that is because + they do not know of the link that binds us, of my amiable connection via + Jamaica with Mr. Ledbetter's past. + </p> + <p> + About that past he displays an anxious modesty. “I do not KNOW what I + should do if it became known,” he says; and repeats, impressively, “I do + not know WHAT I should do.” As a matter of fact, I doubt if he would do + anything except get very red about the ears. But that will appear later; + nor will I tell here of our first encounter, since, as a general rule—though + I am prone to break it—the end of a story should come after, rather + than before, the beginning. And the beginning of the story goes a long way + back; indeed, it is now nearly twenty years since Fate, by a series of + complicated and startling manoeuvres, brought Mr. Ledbetter, so to speak, + into my hands. + </p> + <p> + In those days I was living in Jamaica, and Mr. Ledbetter was a + schoolmaster in England. He was in orders, and already recognisably the + same man that he is to-day: the same rotundity of visage, the same or + similar glasses, and the same faint shadow of surprise in his resting + expression. He was, of course, dishevelled when I saw him, and his collar + less of a collar than a wet bandage, and that may have helped to bridge + the natural gulf between us—but of that, as I say, later. + </p> + <p> + The business began at Hithergate-on-Sea, and simultaneously with Mr. + Ledbetter's summer vacation. Thither he came for a greatly needed rest, + with a bright brown portmanteau marked “F. W. L.”, a new white-and-black + straw hat, and two pairs of white flannel trousers. He was naturally + exhilarated at his release from school—for he was not very fond of + the boys he taught. After dinner he fell into a discussion with a + talkative person established in the boarding-house to which, acting on the + advice of his aunt, he had resorted. This talkative person was the only + other man in the house. Their discussion concerned the melancholy + disappearance of wonder and adventure in these latter days, the prevalence + of globe-trotting, the abolition of distance by steam and electricity, the + vulgarity of advertisement, the degradation of men by civilisation, and + many such things. Particularly was the talkative person eloquent on the + decay of human courage through security, a security Mr. Ledbetter rather + thoughtlessly joined him in deploring. Mr. Ledbetter, in the first delight + of emancipation from “duty,” and being anxious, perhaps, to establish a + reputation for manly conviviality, partook, rather more freely than was + advisable, of the excellent whisky the talkative person produced. But he + did not become intoxicated, he insists. + </p> + <p> + He was simply eloquent beyond his sober wont, and with the finer edge gone + from his judgment. And after that long talk of the brave old days that + were past forever, he went out into moonlit Hithergate—alone and up + the cliff road where the villas cluster together. + </p> + <p> + He had bewailed, and now as he walked up the silent road he still + bewailed, the fate that had called him to such an uneventful life as a + pedagogue's. What a prosaic existence he led, so stagnant, so colourless! + Secure, methodical, year in year out, what call was there for bravery? He + thought enviously of those roving, mediaeval days, so near and so remote, + of quests and spies and condottieri and many a risky blade-drawing + business. And suddenly came a doubt, a strange doubt, springing out of + some chance thought of tortures, and destructive altogether of the + position he had assumed that evening. + </p> + <p> + Was he—Mr. Ledbetter—really, after all, so brave as he + assumed? Would he really be so pleased to have railways, policemen, and + security vanish suddenly from the earth? + </p> + <p> + The talkative man had spoken enviously of crime. “The burglar,” he said, + “is the only true adventurer left on earth. Think of his single-handed + fight against the whole civilised world!” And Mr. Ledbetter had echoed his + envy. “They DO have some fun out of life,” Mr. Ledbetter had said. “And + about the only people who do. Just think how it must feel to wire a lawn!” + And he had laughed wickedly. Now, in this franker intimacy of + self-communion he found himself instituting a comparison between his own + brand of courage and that of the habitual criminal. He tried to meet these + insidious questionings with blank assertion. “I could do all that,” said + Mr. Ledbetter. “I long to do all that. Only I do not give way to my + criminal impulses. My moral courage restrains me.” But he doubted even + while he told himself these things. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ledbetter passed a large villa standing by itself. Conveniently + situated above a quiet, practicable balcony was a window, gaping black, + wide open. At the time he scarcely marked it, but the picture of it came + with him, wove into his thoughts. He figured himself climbing up that + balcony, crouching—plunging into that dark, mysterious interior. + “Bah! You would not dare,” said the Spirit of Doubt. “My duty to my + fellow-men forbids,” said Mr. Ledbetter's self-respect. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly eleven, and the little seaside town was already very still. + The whole world slumbered under the moonlight. Only one warm oblong of + window-blind far down the road spoke of waking life. He turned and came + back slowly towards the villa of the open window. He stood for a time + outside the gate, a battlefield of motives. “Let us put things to the + test,” said Doubt. “For the satisfaction of these intolerable doubts, show + that you dare go into that house. Commit a burglary in blank. That, at any + rate, is no crime.” Very softly he opened and shut the gate and slipped + into the shadow of the shrubbery. “This is foolish,” said Mr. Ledbetter's + caution. “I expected that,” said Doubt. His heart was beating fast, but he + was certainly not afraid. He was NOT afraid. He remained in that shadow + for some considerable time. + </p> + <p> + The ascent of the balcony, it was evident, would have to be done in a + rush, for it was all in clear moonlight, and visible from the gate into + the avenue. A trellis thinly set with young, ambitious climbing roses made + the ascent ridiculously easy. There, in that black shadow by the stone + vase of flowers, one might crouch and take a closer view of this gaping + breach in the domestic defences, the open window. For a while Mr. + Ledbetter was as still as the night, and then that insidious whisky tipped + the balance. He dashed forward. He went up the trellis with quick, + convulsive movements, swung his legs over the parapet of the balcony, and + dropped panting in the shadow even as he had designed. He was trembling + violently, short of breath, and his heart pumped noisily, but his mood was + exultation. He could have shouted to find he was so little afraid. + </p> + <p> + A happy line that he had learnt from Wills's “Mephistopheles” came into + his mind as he crouched there. “I feel like a cat on the tiles,” he + whispered to himself. It was far better than he had expected—this + adventurous exhilaration. He was sorry for all poor men to whom burglary + was unknown. Nothing happened. He was quite safe. And he was acting in the + bravest manner! + </p> + <p> + And now for the window, to make the burglary complete! Must he dare do + that? Its position above the front door defined it as a landing or + passage, and there were no looking-glasses or any bedroom signs about it, + or any other window on the first floor, to suggest the possibility of a + sleeper within. For a time he listened under the ledge, then raised his + eyes above the sill and peered in. Close at hand, on a pedestal, and a + little startling at first, was a nearly life-size gesticulating bronze. He + ducked, and after some time he peered again. Beyond was a broad landing, + faintly gleaming; a flimsy fabric of bead curtain, very black and sharp, + against a further window; a broad staircase, plunging into a gulf of + darkness below; and another ascending to the second floor. He glanced + behind him, but the stillness of the night was unbroken. “Crime,” he + whispered, “crime,” and scrambled softly and swiftly over the sill into + the house. His feet fell noiselessly on a mat of skin. He was a burglar + indeed! + </p> + <p> + He crouched for a time, all ears and peering eyes. Outside was a + scampering and rustling, and for a moment he repented of his enterprise. A + short “miaow,” a spitting, and a rush into silence, spoke reassuringly of + cats. His courage grew. He stood up. Every one was abed, it seemed. So + easy is it to commit a burglary, if one is so minded. He was glad he had + put it to the test. He determined to take some petty trophy, just to prove + his freedom from any abject fear of the law, and depart the way he had + come. + </p> + <p> + He peered about him, and suddenly the critical spirit arose again. + Burglars did far more than such mere elementary entrance as this: they + went into rooms, they forced safes. Well—he was not afraid. He could + not force safes, because that would be a stupid want of consideration for + his hosts. But he would go into rooms—he would go upstairs. More: he + told himself that he was perfectly secure; an empty house could not be + more reassuringly still. He had to clench his hands, nevertheless, and + summon all his resolution before he began very softly to ascend the dim + staircase, pausing for several seconds between each step. Above was a + square landing with one open and several closed doors; and all the house + was still. For a moment he stood wondering what would happen if some + sleeper woke suddenly and emerged. The open door showed a moonlit bedroom, + the coverlet white and undisturbed. Into this room he crept in three + interminable minutes and took a piece of soap for his plunder—his + trophy. He turned to descend even more softly than he had ascended. It was + as easy as— + </p> + <p> + Hist!... + </p> + <p> + Footsteps! On the gravel outside the house—and then the noise of a + latchkey, the yawn and bang of a door, and the spitting of a match in the + hall below. Mr. Ledbetter stood petrified by the sudden discovery of the + folly upon which he had come. “How on earth am I to get out of this?” said + Mr. Ledbetter. + </p> + <p> + The hall grew bright with a candle flame, some heavy object bumped against + the umbrella-stand, and feet were ascending the staircase. In a flash Mr. + Ledbetter realised that his retreat was closed. He stood for a moment, a + pitiful figure of penitent confusion. “My goodness! What a FOOL I have + been!” he whispered, and then darted swiftly across the shadowy landing + into the empty bedroom from which he had just come. He stood listening—quivering. + The footsteps reached the first-floor landing. + </p> + <p> + Horrible thought! This was possibly the latecomer's room! Not a moment was + to be lost! Mr. Ledbetter stooped beside the bed, thanked Heaven for a + valance, and crawled within its protection not ten seconds too soon. He + became motionless on hands and knees. The advancing candle-light appeared + through the thinner stitches of the fabric, the shadows ran wildly about, + and became rigid as the candle was put down. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, what a day!” said the newcomer, blowing noisily, and it seemed he + deposited some heavy burthen on what Mr. Ledbetter, judging by the feet, + decided to be a writing-table. The unseen then went to the door and locked + it, examined the fastenings of the windows carefully and pulled down the + blinds, and returning sat down upon the bed with startling ponderosity. + </p> + <p> + “WHAT a day!” he said. “Good Lord!” and blew again, and Mr. Ledbetter + inclined to believe that the person was mopping his face. His boots were + good stout boots; the shadows of his legs upon the valance suggested a + formidable stoutness of aspect. After a time he removed some upper + garments—a coat and waistcoat, Mr. Ledbetter inferred—and + casting them over the rail of the bed remained breathing less noisily, and + as it seemed cooling from a considerable temperature. At intervals he + muttered to himself, and once he laughed softly. And Mr. Ledbetter + muttered to himself, but he did not laugh. “Of all the foolish things,” + said Mr. Ledbetter. “What on earth am I to do now?” + </p> + <p> + His outlook was necessarily limited. The minute apertures between the + stitches of the fabric of the valance admitted a certain amount of light, + but permitted no peeping. The shadows upon this curtain, save for those + sharply defined legs, were enigmatical, and intermingled confusingly with + the florid patterning of the chintz. Beneath the edge of the valance a + strip of carpet was visible, and, by cautiously depressing his eye, Mr. + Ledbetter found that this strip broadened until the whole area of the + floor came into view. The carpet was a luxurious one, the room spacious, + and, to judge by the castors and so forth of the furniture, well equipped. + </p> + <p> + What he should do he found it difficult to imagine. To wait until this + person had gone to bed, and then, when he seemed to be sleeping, to creep + to the door, unlock it, and bolt headlong for that balcony seemed the only + possible thing to do. Would it be possible to jump from the balcony? The + danger of it! When he thought of the chances against him, Mr. Ledbetter + despaired. He was within an ace of thrusting forth his head beside the + gentleman's legs, coughing if necessary to attract his attention, and + then, smiling, apologising and explaining his unfortunate intrusion by a + few well-chosen sentences. But he found these sentences hard to choose. + “No doubt, sir, my appearance is peculiar,” or, “I trust, sir, you will + pardon my somewhat ambiguous appearance from beneath you,” was about as + much as he could get. + </p> + <p> + Grave possibilities forced themselves on his attention. Suppose they did + not believe him, what would they do to him? Would his unblemished high + character count for nothing? Technically he was a burglar, beyond dispute. + Following out this train of thought, he was composing a lucid apology for + “this technical crime I have committed,” to be delivered before sentence + in the dock, when the stout gentleman got up and began walking about the + room. He locked and unlocked drawers, and Mr. Ledbetter had a transient + hope that he might be undressing. But, no! He seated himself at the + writing-table, and began to write and then tear up documents. Presently + the smell of burning cream-laid paper mingled with the odour of cigars in + Mr. Ledbetter's nostrils. + </p> + <p> + “The position I had assumed,” said Mr. Ledbetter when he told me of these + things, “was in many respects an ill-advised one. A transverse bar beneath + the bed depressed my head unduly, and threw a disproportionate share of my + weight upon my hands. After a time, I experienced what is called, I + believe, a crick in the neck. The pressure of my hands on the + coarsely-stitched carpet speedily became painful. My knees, too, were + painful, my trousers being drawn tightly over them. At that time I wore + rather higher collars than I do now—two and a half inches, in fact—and + I discovered what I had not remarked before, that the edge of the one I + wore was frayed slightly under the chin. But much worse than these things + was an itching of my face, which I could only relieve by violent grimacing—I + tried to raise my hand, but the rustle of the sleeve alarmed me. After a + time I had to desist from this relief also, because—happily in time—I + discovered that my facial contortions were shifting my glasses down my + nose. Their fall would, of course, have exposed me, and as it was they + came to rest in an oblique position of by no means stable equilibrium. In + addition I had a slight cold, and an intermittent desire to sneeze or + sniff caused me inconvenience. In fact, quite apart from the extreme + anxiety of my position, my physical discomfort became in a short time very + considerable indeed. But I had to stay there motionless, nevertheless.” + </p> + <p> + After an interminable time, there began a chinking sound. This deepened + into a rhythm: chink, chink, chink—twenty-five chinks—a rap on + the writing-table, and a grunt from the owner of the stout legs. It dawned + upon Mr. Ledbetter that this chinking was the chinking of gold. He became + incredulously curious as it went on. His curiosity grew. Already, if that + was the case, this extraordinary man must have counted some hundreds of + pounds. At last Mr. Ledbetter could resist it no longer, and he began very + cautiously to fold his arms and lower his head to the level of the floor, + in the hope of peeping under the valance. He moved his feet, and one made + a slight scraping on the floor. Suddenly the chinking ceased. Mr. + Ledbetter became rigid. After a while the chinking was resumed. Then it + ceased again, and everything was still, except Mr. Ledbetter's heart—that + organ seemed to him to be beating like a drum. + </p> + <p> + The stillness continued. Mr. Ledbetter's head was now on the floor, and he + could see the stout legs as far as the shins. They were quite still. The + feet were resting on the toes and drawn back, as it seemed, under the + chair of the owner. Everything was quite still, everything continued + still. A wild hope came to Mr. Ledbetter that the unknown was in a fit or + suddenly dead, with his head upon the writing-table.... + </p> + <p> + The stillness continued. What had happened? The desire to peep became + irresistible. Very cautiously Mr. Ledbetter shifted his hand forward, + projected a pioneer finger, and began to lift the valance immediately next + his eye. Nothing broke the stillness. He saw now the stranger's knees, saw + the back of the writing-table, and then—he was staring at the barrel + of a heavy revolver pointed over the writing-table at his head. + </p> + <p> + “Come out of that, you scoundrel!” said the voice of the stout gentleman + in a tone of quiet concentration. “Come out. This side, and now. None of + your hanky-panky—come right out, now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ledbetter came right out, a little reluctantly perhaps, but without + any hanky-panky, and at once, even as he was told. + </p> + <p> + “Kneel,” said the stout gentleman, “and hold up your hands.” + </p> + <p> + The valance dropped again behind Mr. Ledbetter, and he rose from all-fours + and held up his hands. “Dressed like a parson,” said the stout gentleman. + “I'm blest if he isn't! A little chap, too! You SCOUNDREL! What the deuce + possessed you to come here to-night? What the deuce possessed you to get + under my bed?” + </p> + <p> + He did not appear to require an answer, but proceeded at once to several + very objectionable remarks upon Mr. Ledbetter's personal appearance. He + was not a very big man, but he looked strong to Mr. Ledbetter: he was as + stout as his legs had promised, he had rather delicately-chiselled small + features distributed over a considerable area of whitish face, and quite a + number of chins. And the note of his voice had a sort of whispering + undertone. + </p> + <p> + “What the deuce, I say, possessed you to get under my bed?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ledbetter, by an effort, smiled a wan propitiatory smile. He coughed. + “I can quite understand—” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Why! What on earth? It's SOAP! No!—you scoundrel. Don't you move + that hand.” + </p> + <p> + “It's soap,” said Mr. Ledbetter. “From your washstand. No doubt it—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk,” said the stout man. “I see it's soap. Of all incredible + things.” + </p> + <p> + “If I might explain—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't explain. It's sure to be a lie, and there's no time for + explanations. What was I going to ask you? Ah! Have you any mates?” + </p> + <p> + “In a few minutes, if you—” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any mates? Curse you. If you start any soapy palaver I'll shoot. + Have you any mates?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mr. Ledbetter. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it's a lie,” said the stout man. “But you'll pay for it if it + is. Why the deuce didn't you floor me when I came upstairs? You won't get + a chance to now, anyhow. Fancy getting under the bed! I reckon it's a fair + cop, anyhow, so far as you are concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how I could prove an alibi,” remarked Mr. Ledbetter, trying + to show by his conversation that he was an educated man. There was a + pause. Mr. Ledbetter perceived that on a chair beside his captor was a + large black bag on a heap of crumpled papers, and that there were torn and + burnt papers on the table. And in front of these, and arranged + methodically along the edge were rows and rows of little yellow rouleaux—a + hundred times more gold than Mr. Ledbetter had seen in all his life + before. The light of two candles, in silver candlesticks, fell upon these. + The pause continued. “It is rather fatiguing holding up my hands like + this,” said Mr. Ledbetter, with a deprecatory smile. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right,” said the fat man. “But what to do with you I don't + exactly know.” + </p> + <p> + “I know my position is ambiguous.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord!” said the fat man, “ambiguous! And goes about with his own soap, + and wears a thundering great clerical collar. You ARE a blooming burglar, + you are—if ever there was one!” + </p> + <p> + “To be strictly accurate,” said Mr. Ledbetter, and suddenly his glasses + slipped off and clattered against his vest buttons. + </p> + <p> + The fat man changed countenance, a flash of savage resolution crossed his + face, and something in the revolver clicked. He put his other hand to the + weapon. And then he looked at Mr. Ledbetter, and his eye went down to the + dropped pince-nez. + </p> + <p> + “Full-cock now, anyhow,” said the fat man, after a pause, and his breath + seemed to catch. “But I'll tell you, you've never been so near death + before. Lord! I'M almost glad. If it hadn't been that the revolver wasn't + cocked you'd be lying dead there now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ledbetter said nothing, but he felt that the room was swaying. + </p> + <p> + “A miss is as good as a mile. It's lucky for both of us it wasn't. Lord!” + He blew noisily. “There's no need for you to go pale-green for a little + thing like that.” + </p> + <p> + “If I can assure you, sir—” said Mr. Ledbetter, with an effort. + </p> + <p> + “There's only one thing to do. If I call in the police, I'm bust—a + little game I've got on is bust. That won't do. If I tie you up and leave + you again, the thing may be out to-morrow. Tomorrow's Sunday, and Monday's + Bank Holiday—I've counted on three clear days. Shooting you's murder—and + hanging; and besides, it will bust the whole blooming kernooze. I'm hanged + if I can think what to do—I'm hanged if I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you permit me—” + </p> + <p> + “You gas as much as if you were a real parson, I'm blessed if you don't. + Of all the burglars you are the—Well! No!—I WON'T permit you. + There isn't time. If you start off jawing again, I'll shoot right in your + stomach. See? But I know now-I know now! What we're going to do first, my + man, is an examination for concealed arms—an examination for + concealed arms. And look here! When I tell you to do a thing, don't start + off at a gabble—do it brisk.” + </p> + <p> + And with many elaborate precautions, and always pointing the pistol at Mr. + Ledbetter's head, the stout man stood him up and searched him for weapons. + “Why, you ARE a burglar!” he said “You're a perfect amateur. You haven't + even a pistol-pocket in the back of your breeches. No, you don't! Shut up, + now.” + </p> + <p> + So soon as the issue was decided, the stout man made Mr. Ledbetter take + off his coat and roll up his shirt-sleeves, and, with the revolver at one + ear, proceed with the packing his appearance had interrupted. From the + stout man's point of view that was evidently the only possible + arrangement, for if he had packed, he would have had to put down the + revolver. So that even the gold on the table was handled by Mr. Ledbetter. + This nocturnal packing was peculiar. The stout man's idea was evidently to + distribute the weight of the gold as unostentatiously as possible through + his luggage. It was by no means an inconsiderable weight. There was, Mr. + Ledbetter says, altogether nearly L18,000 in gold in the black bag and on + the table. There were also many little rolls of L5 bank-notes. Each + rouleau of L25 was wrapped by Mr. Ledbetter in paper. These rouleaux were + then put neatly in cigar boxes and distributed between a travelling trunk, + a Gladstone bag, and a hatbox. About L600 went in a tobacco tin in a + dressing-bag. L10 in gold and a number of L5 notes the stout man pocketed. + Occasionally he objurgated Mr. Ledbetter's clumsiness, and urged him to + hurry, and several times he appealed to Mr. Ledbetter's watch for + information. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ledbetter strapped the trunk and bag, and returned the stout man the + keys. It was then ten minutes to twelve, and until the stroke of midnight + the stout man made him sit on the Gladstone bag, while he sat at a + reasonably safe distance on the trunk and held the revolver handy and + waited. He appeared to be now in a less aggressive mood, and having + watched Mr. Ledbetter for some time, he offered a few remarks. + </p> + <p> + “From your accent I judge you are a man of some education,” he said, + lighting a cigar. “No—DON'T begin that explanation of yours. I know + it will be long-winded from your face, and I am much too old a liar to be + interested in other men's lying. You are, I say, a person of education. + You do well to dress as a curate. Even among educated people you might + pass as a curate.” + </p> + <p> + “I AM a curate,” said Mr. Ledbetter, “or, at least—” + </p> + <p> + “You are trying to be. I know. But you didn't ought to burgle. You are not + the man to burgle. You are, if I may say it—the thing will have been + pointed out to you before—a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” said Mr. Ledbetter, trying to get a final opening, “it was + that very question—” + </p> + <p> + The stout man waved him into silence. + </p> + <p> + “You waste your education in burglary. You should do one of two things. + Either you should forge or you should embezzle. For my own part, I + embezzle. Yes; I embezzle. What do you think a man could be doing with all + this gold but that? Ah! Listen! Midnight!... Ten. Eleven. Twelve. There is + something very impressive to me in that slow beating of the hours. Time—space; + what mysteries they are! What mysteries.... It's time for us to be moving. + Stand up!” + </p> + <p> + And then kindly, but firmly, he induced Mr. Ledbetter to sling the + dressing bag over his back by a string across his chest, to shoulder the + trunk, and, overruling a gasping protest, to take the Gladstone bag in his + disengaged hand. So encumbered, Mr. Ledbetter struggled perilously + downstairs. The stout gentleman followed with an overcoat, the hatbox, and + the revolver, making derogatory remarks about Mr. Ledbetter's strength, + and assisting him at the turnings of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “The back door,” he directed, and Mr. Ledbetter staggered through a + conservatory, leaving a wake of smashed flower-pots behind him. “Never + mind the crockery,” said the stout man; “it's good for trade. We wait here + until a quarter past. You can put those things down. You have!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ledbetter collapsed panting on the trunk. “Last night,” he gasped, “I + was asleep in my little room, and I no more dreamt—” + </p> + <p> + “There's no need for you to incriminate yourself,” said the stout + gentleman, looking at the lock of the revolver. He began to hum. Mr. + Ledbetter made to speak, and thought better of it. + </p> + <p> + There presently came the sound of a bell, and Mr. Ledbetter was taken to + the back door and instructed to open it. A fair-haired man in yachting + costume entered. At the sight of Mr. Ledbetter he started violently and + clapped his hand behind him. Then he saw the stout man. “Bingham!” he + cried, “who's this?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a little philanthropic do of mine—burglar I'm trying to + reform. Caught him under my bed just now. He's all right. He's a frightful + ass. He'll be useful to carry some of our things.” + </p> + <p> + The newcomer seemed inclined to resent Mr. Ledbetter's presence at first, + but the stout man reassured him. + </p> + <p> + “He's quite alone. There's not a gang in the world would own him. No!—don't + start talking, for goodness' sake.” + </p> + <p> + They went out into the darkness of the garden with the trunk still bowing + Mr. Ledbetter's shoulders. The man in the yachting costume walked in front + with the Gladstone bag and a pistol; then came Mr. Ledbetter like Atlas; + Mr. Bingham followed with the hat-box, coat, and revolver as before. The + house was one of those that have their gardens right up to the cliff. At + the cliff was a steep wooden stairway, descending to a bathing tent dimly + visible on the beach. Below was a boat pulled up, and a silent little man + with a black face stood beside it. “A few moments' explanation,” said Mr. + Ledbetter; “I can assure you—” Somebody kicked him, and he said no + more. + </p> + <p> + They made him wade to the boat, carrying the trunk, they pulled him aboard + by the shoulders and hair, they called him no better name than “scoundrel” + and “burglar” all that night. But they spoke in undertones so that the + general public was happily unaware of his ignominy. They hauled him aboard + a yacht manned by strange, unsympathetic Orientals, and partly they thrust + him and partly he fell down a gangway into a noisome, dark place, where he + was to remain many days—how many he does not know, because he lost + count among other things when he was seasick. They fed him on biscuits and + incomprehensible words; they gave him water to drink mixed with + unwished-for rum. And there were cockroaches where they put him, night and + day there were cockroaches, and in the night-time there were rats. The + Orientals emptied his pockets and took his watch—but Mr. Bingham, + being appealed to, took that himself. And five or six times the five + Lascars—if they were Lascars—and the Chinaman and the negro + who constituted the crew, fished him out and took him aft to Bingham and + his friend to play cribbage and euchre and three-anded whist, and to + listen to their stories and boastings in an interested manner. + </p> + <p> + Then these principals would talk to him as men talk to those who have + lived a life of crime. Explanations they would never permit, though they + made it abundantly clear to him that he was the rummiest burglar they had + ever set eyes on. They said as much again and again. The fair man was of a + taciturn disposition and irascible at play; but Mr. Bingham, now that the + evident anxiety of his departure from England was assuaged, displayed a + vein of genial philosophy. He enlarged upon the mystery of space and time, + and quoted Kant and Hegel—or, at least, he said he did. Several + times Mr. Ledbetter got as far as: “My position under your bed, you know—,” + but then he always had to cut, or pass the whisky, or do some such + intervening thing. After his third failure, the fair man got quite to look + for this opening, and whenever Mr. Ledbetter began after that, he would + roar with laughter and hit him violently on the back. “Same old start, + same old story; good old burglar!” the fair-haired man would say. + </p> + <p> + So Mr. Ledbetter suffered for many days, twenty perhaps; and one evening + he was taken, together with some tinned provisions, over the side and put + ashore on a rocky little island with a spring. Mr. Bingham came in the + boat with him, giving him good advice all the way, and waving his last + attempts at an explanation aside. + </p> + <p> + “I am really NOT a burglar,” said Mr. Ledbetter. + </p> + <p> + “You never will be,” said Mr. Bingham. “You'll never make a burglar. I'm + glad you are beginning to see it. In choosing a profession a man must + study his temperament. If you don't, sooner or later you will fail. + Compare myself, for example. All my life I have been in banks—I have + got on in banks. I have even been a bank manager. But was I happy? No. Why + wasn't I happy? Because it did not suit my temperament. I am too + adventurous—too versatile. Practically I have thrown it over. I do + not suppose I shall ever manage a bank again. They would be glad to get + me, no doubt; but I have learnt the lesson of my temperament—at + last.... No! I shall never manage a bank again. + </p> + <p> + “Now, your temperament unfits you for crime—just as mine unfits me + for respectability. I know you better than I did, and now I do not even + recommend forgery. Go back to respectable courses, my man. YOUR lay is the + philanthropic lay—that is your lay. With that voice—the + Association for the Promotion of Snivelling among the Young—something + in that line. You think it over. + </p> + <p> + “The island we are approaching has no name apparently—at least, + there is none on the chart. You might think out a name for it while you + are there—while you are thinking about all these things. It has + quite drinkable water, I understand. It is one of the Grenadines—one + of the Windward Islands. Yonder, dim and blue, are others of the + Grenadines. There are quantities of Grenadines, but the majority are out + of sight. I have often wondered what these islands are for—now, you + see, I am wiser. This one at least is for you. Sooner or later some simple + native will come along and take you off. Say what you like about us then—abuse + us, if you like—we shan't care a solitary Grenadine! And here—here + is half a sovereign's worth of silver. Do not waste that in foolish + dissipation when you return to civilisation. Properly used, it may give + you a fresh start in life. And do not—Don't beach her, you beggars, + he can wade!—Do not waste the precious solitude before you in + foolish thoughts. Properly used, it may be a turning-point in your career. + Waste neither money nor time. You will die rich. I'm sorry, but I must ask + you to carry your tucker to land in your arms. No; it's not deep. Curse + that explanation of yours! There's not time. No, no, no! I won't listen. + Overboard you go!” + </p> + <p> + And the falling night found Mr. Ledbetter—the Mr. Ledbetter who had + complained that adventure was dead—sitting beside his cans of food, + his chin resting upon his drawn-up knees, staring through his glasses in + dismal mildness over the shining, vacant sea. + </p> + <p> + He was picked up in the course of three days by a negro fisherman and + taken to St. Vincent's, and from St. Vincent's he got, by the expenditure + of his last coins, to Kingston, in Jamaica. And there he might have + foundered. Even nowadays he is not a man of affairs, and then he was a + singularly helpless person. He had not the remotest idea what he ought to + do. The only thing he seems to have done was to visit all the ministers of + religion he could find in the place to borrow a passage home. But he was + much too dirty and incoherent—and his story far too incredible for + them. I met him quite by chance. It was close upon sunset, and I was + walking out after my siesta on the road to Dunn's Battery, when I met him—I + was rather bored, and with a whole evening on my hands—luckily for + him. He was trudging dismally towards the town. His woebegone face and the + quasi-clerical cut of his dust-stained, filthy costume caught my humour. + Our eyes met. He hesitated. “Sir,” he said, with a catching of the breath, + “could you spare a few minutes for what I fear will seem an incredible + story?” + </p> + <p> + “Incredible!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Quite,” he answered eagerly. “No one will believe it, alter it though I + may. Yet I can assure you, sir—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped hopelessly. The man's tone tickled me. He seemed an odd + character. “I am,” he said, “one of the most unfortunate beings alive.” + </p> + <p> + “Among other things, you haven't dined?” I said, struck with an idea. + </p> + <p> + “I have not,” he said solemnly, “for many days.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll tell it better after that,” I said; and without more ado led the + way to a low place I knew, where such a costume as his was unlikely to + give offence. And there—with certain omissions which he subsequently + supplied—I got his story. At first I was incredulous, but as the + wine warmed him, and the faint suggestion of cringing which his + misfortunes had added to his manner disappeared, I began to believe. At + last, I was so far convinced of his sincerity that I got him a bed for the + night, and next day verified the banker's reference he gave me through my + Jamaica banker. And that done, I took him shopping for underwear and such + like equipments of a gentleman at large. Presently came the verified + reference. His astonishing story was true. I will not amplify our + subsequent proceedings. He started for England in three days' time. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know how I can possibly thank you enough,” began the letter he + wrote me from England, “for all your kindness to a total stranger,” and + proceeded for some time in a similar strain. “Had it not been for your + generous assistance, I could certainly never have returned in time for the + resumption of my scholastic duties, and my few minutes of reckless folly + would, perhaps, have proved my ruin. As it is, I am entangled in a tissue + of lies and evasions, of the most complicated sort, to account for my + sunburnt appearance and my whereabouts. I have rather carelessly told two + or three different stories, not realising the trouble this would mean for + me in the end. The truth I dare not tell. I have consulted a number of + law-books in the British Museum, and there is not the slightest doubt that + I have connived at and abetted and aided a felony. That scoundrel Bingham + was the Hithergate bank manager, I find, and guilty of the most flagrant + embezzlement. Please, please burn this letter when read—I trust you + implicitly. The worst of it is, neither my aunt nor her friend who kept + the boarding-house at which I was staying seem altogether to believe a + guarded statement I have made them practically of what actually happened. + They suspect me of some discreditable adventure, but what sort of + discreditable adventure they suspect me of, I do not know. My aunt says + she would forgive me if I told her everything. I have—I have told + her MORE than everything, and still she is not satisfied. It would never + do to let them know the truth of the case, of course, and so I represent + myself as having been waylaid and gagged upon the beach. My aunt wants to + know WHY they waylaid and gagged me, why they took me away in their yacht. + I do not know. Can you suggest any reason? I can think of nothing. If, + when you wrote, you could write on TWO sheets so that I could show her + one, and on that one if you could show clearly that I really WAS in + Jamaica this summer, and had come there by being removed from a ship, it + would be of great service to me. It would certainly add to the load of my + obligation to you—a load that I fear I can never fully repay. + Although if gratitude...” And so forth. At the end he repeated his request + for me to burn the letter. + </p> + <p> + So the remarkable story of Mr. Ledbetter's Vacation ends. That breach with + his aunt was not of long duration. The old lady had forgiven him before + she died. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 10. THE STOLEN BODY + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Bessel was the senior partner in the firm of Bessel, Hart, and Brown, + of St. Paul's Churchyard, and for many years he was well known among those + interested in psychical research as a liberal-minded and conscientious + investigator. He was an unmarried man, and instead of living in the + suburbs, after the fashion of his class, he occupied rooms in the Albany, + near Piccadilly. He was particularly interested in the questions of + thought transference and of apparitions of the living, and in November, + 1896, he commenced a series of experiments in conjunction with Mr. Vincey, + of Staple Inn, in order to test the alleged possibility of projecting an + apparition of one's self by force of will through space. + </p> + <p> + Their experiments were conducted in the following manner: At a + pre-arranged hour Mr. Bessel shut himself in one of his rooms in the + Albany and Mr. Vincey in his sitting-room in Staple Inn, and each then + fixed his mind as resolutely as possible on the other. Mr. Bessel had + acquired the art of self-hypnotism, and, so far as he could, he attempted + first to hypnotise himself and then to project himself as a “phantom of + the living” across the intervening space of nearly two miles into Mr. + Vincey's apartment. On several evenings this was tried without any + satisfactory result, but on the fifth or sixth occasion Mr. Vincey did + actually see or imagine he saw an apparition of Mr. Bessel standing in his + room. He states that the appearance, although brief, was very vivid and + real. He noticed that Mr. Bessel's face was white and his expression + anxious, and, moreover, that his hair was disordered. For a moment Mr. + Vincey, in spite of his state of expectation, was too surprised to speak + or move, and in that moment it seemed to him as though the figure glanced + over its shoulder and incontinently vanished. + </p> + <p> + It had been arranged that an attempt should be made to photograph any + phantasm seen, but Mr. Vincey had not the instant presence of mind to snap + the camera that lay ready on the table beside him, and when he did so he + was too late. Greatly elated, however, even by this partial success, he + made a note of the exact time, and at once took a cab to the Albany to + inform Mr. Bessel of this result. + </p> + <p> + He was surprised to find Mr. Bessel's outer door standing open to the + night, and the inner apartments lit and in an extraordinary disorder. An + empty champagne magnum lay smashed upon the floor; its neck had been + broken off against the inkpot on the bureau and lay beside it. An + octagonal occasional table, which carried a bronze statuette and a number + of choice books, had been rudely overturned, and down the primrose paper + of the wall inky fingers had been drawn, as it seemed for the mere + pleasure of defilement. One of the delicate chintz curtains had been + violently torn from its rings and thrust upon the fire, so that the smell + of its smouldering filled the room. Indeed the whole place was disarranged + in the strangest fashion. For a few minutes Mr. Vincey, who had entered + sure of finding Mr. Bessel in his easy chair awaiting him, could scarcely + believe his eyes, and stood staring helplessly at these unanticipated + things. + </p> + <p> + Then, full of a vague sense of calamity, he sought the porter at the + entrance lodge. “Where is Mr. Bessel?” he asked. “Do you know that all the + furniture is broken in Mr. Bessel's room?” The porter said nothing, but, + obeying his gestures, came at once to Mr. Bessel's apartment to see the + state of affairs. “This settles it,” he said, surveying the lunatic + confusion. “I didn't know of this. Mr. Bessel's gone off. He's mad!” + </p> + <p> + He then proceeded to tell Mr. Vincey that about half an hour previously, + that is to say, at about the time of Mr. Bessel's apparition in Mr. + Vincey's rooms, the missing gentleman had rushed out of the gates of the + Albany into Vigo Street, hatless and with disordered hair, and had + vanished into the direction of Bond Street. “And as he went past me,” said + the porter, “he laughed—a sort of gasping laugh, with his mouth open + and his eyes glaring—I tell you, sir, he fair scared me!—like + this.” + </p> + <p> + According to his imitation it was anything but a pleasant laugh. “He waved + his hand, with all his fingers crooked and clawing—like that. And he + said, in a sort of fierce whisper, 'LIFE!' Just that one word, 'LIFE!'” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” said Mr. Vincey. “Tut, tut,” and “Dear me!” He could think of + nothing else to say. He was naturally very much surprised. He turned from + the room to the porter and from the porter to the room in the gravest + perplexity. Beyond his suggestion that probably Mr. Bessel would come back + presently and explain what had happened, their conversation was unable to + proceed. “It might be a sudden toothache,” said the porter, “a very sudden + and violent toothache, jumping on him suddenly-like and driving him wild. + I've broken things myself before now in such a case...” He thought. “If it + was, why should he say 'LIFE' to me as he went past?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincey did not know. Mr. Bessel did not return, and at last Mr. + Vincey, having done some more helpless staring, and having addressed a + note of brief inquiry and left it in a conspicuous position on the bureau, + returned in a very perplexed frame of mind to his own premises in Staple + Inn. This affair had given him a shock. He was at a loss to account for + Mr. Bessel's conduct on any sane hypothesis. He tried to read, but he + could not do so; he went for a short walk, and was so preoccupied that he + narrowly escaped a cab at the top of Chancery Lane; and at last—a + full hour before his usual time—he went to bed. For a considerable + time he could not sleep because of his memory of the silent confusion of + Mr. Bessel's apartment, and when at length he did attain an uneasy slumber + it was at once disturbed by a very vivid and distressing dream of Mr. + Bessel. + </p> + <p> + He saw Mr. Bessel gesticulating wildly, and with his face white and + contorted. And, inexplicably mingled with his appearance, suggested + perhaps by his gestures, was an intense fear, an urgency to act. He even + believes that he heard the voice of his fellow experimenter calling + distressfully to him, though at the time he considered this to be an + illusion. The vivid impression remained though Mr. Vincey awoke. For a + space he lay awake and trembling in the darkness, possessed with that + vague, unaccountable terror of unknown possibilities that comes out of + dreams upon even the bravest men. But at last he roused himself, and + turned over and went to sleep again, only for the dream to return with + enhanced vividness. + </p> + <p> + He awoke with such a strong conviction that Mr. Bessel was in overwhelming + distress and need of help that sleep was no longer possible. He was + persuaded that his friend had rushed out to some dire calamity. For a time + he lay reasoning vainly against this belief, but at last he gave way to + it. He arose, against all reason, lit his gas, and dressed, and set out + through the deserted streets—deserted, save for a noiseless + policeman or so and the early news carts—towards Vigo Street to + inquire if Mr. Bessel had returned. + </p> + <p> + But he never got there. As he was going down Long Acre some unaccountable + impulse turned him aside out of that street towards Covent Garden, which + was just waking to its nocturnal activities. He saw the market in front of + him—a queer effect of glowing yellow lights and busy black figures. + He became aware of a shouting, and perceived a figure turn the corner by + the hotel and run swiftly towards him. He knew at once that it was Mr. + Bessel. But it was Mr. Bessel transfigured. He was hatless and + dishevelled, his collar was torn open, he grasped a bone-handled + walking-cane near the ferrule end, and his mouth was pulled awry. And he + ran, with agile strides, very rapidly. Their encounter was the affair of + an instant. “Bessel!” cried Vincey. + </p> + <p> + The running man gave no sign of recognition either of Mr. Vincey or of his + own name. Instead, he cut at his friend savagely with the stick, hitting + him in the face within an inch of the eye. Mr. Vincey, stunned and + astonished, staggered back, lost his footing, and fell heavily on the + pavement. It seemed to him that Mr. Bessel leapt over him as he fell. When + he looked again Mr. Bessel had vanished, and a policeman and a number of + garden porters and salesmen were rushing past towards Long Acre in hot + pursuit. + </p> + <p> + With the assistance of several passers-by—for the whole street was + speedily alive with running people—Mr. Vincey struggled to his feet. + He at once became the centre of a crowd greedy to see his injury. A + multitude of voices competed to reassure him of his safety, and then to + tell him of the behaviour of the madman, as they regarded Mr. Bessel. He + had suddenly appeared in the middle of the market screaming “LIFE! LIFE!” + striking left and right with a blood-stained walking-stick, and dancing + and shouting with laughter at each successful blow. A lad and two women + had broken heads, and he had smashed a man's wrist; a little child had + been knocked insensible, and for a time he had driven every one before + him, so furious and resolute had his behaviour been. Then he made a raid + upon a coffee stall, hurled its paraffin flare through the window of the + post office, and fled laughing, after stunning the foremost of the two + policemen who had the pluck to charge him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vincey's first impulse was naturally to join in the pursuit of his + friend, in order if possible to save him from the violence of the + indignant people. But his action was slow, the blow had half stunned him, + and while this was still no more than a resolution came the news, shouted + through the crowd, that Mr. Bessel had eluded his pursuers. At first Mr. + Vincey could scarcely credit this, but the universality of the report, and + presently the dignified return of two futile policemen, convinced him. + After some aimless inquiries he returned towards Staple Inn, padding a + handkerchief to a now very painful nose. + </p> + <p> + He was angry and astonished and perplexed. It appeared to him indisputable + that Mr. Bessel must have gone violently mad in the midst of his + experiment in thought transference, but why that should make him appear + with a sad white face in Mr. Vincey's dreams seemed a problem beyond + solution. He racked his brains in vain to explain this. It seemed to him + at last that not simply Mr. Bessel, but the order of things must be + insane. But he could think of nothing to do. He shut himself carefully + into his room, lit his fire—it was a gas fire with asbestos bricks—and, + fearing fresh dreams if he went to bed, remained bathing his injured face, + or holding up books in a vain attempt to read, until dawn. Throughout that + vigil he had a curious persuasion that Mr. Bessel was endeavouring to + speak to him, but he would not let himself attend to any such belief. + </p> + <p> + About dawn, his physical fatigue asserted itself, and he went to bed and + slept at last in spite of dreaming. He rose late, unrested and anxious, + and in considerable facial pain. The morning papers had no news of Mr. + Bessel's aberration—it had come too late for them. Mr. Vincey's + perplexities, to which the fever of his bruise added fresh irritation, + became at last intolerable, and, after a fruitless visit to the Albany, he + went down to St. Paul's Churchyard to Mr. Hart, Mr. Bessel's partner, and, + so far as Mr. Vincey knew, his nearest friend. + </p> + <p> + He was surprised to learn that Mr. Hart, although he knew nothing of the + outbreak, had also been disturbed by a vision, the very vision that Mr. + Vincey had seen—Mr. Bessel, white and dishevelled, pleading + earnestly by his gestures for help. That was his impression of the import + of his signs. “I was just going to look him up in the Albany when you + arrived,” said Mr. Hart. “I was so sure of something being wrong with + him.” + </p> + <p> + As the outcome of their consultation the two gentlemen decided to inquire + at Scotland Yard for news of their missing friend. “He is bound to be laid + by the heels,” said Mr. Hart. “He can't go on at that pace for long.” But + the police authorities had not laid Mr. Bessel by the heels. They + confirmed Mr. Vincey's overnight experiences and added fresh + circumstances, some of an even graver character than those he knew—a + list of smashed glass along the upper half of Tottenham Court Road, an + attack upon a policeman in Hampstead Road, and an atrocious assault upon a + woman. All these outrages were committed between half-past twelve and a + quarter to two in the morning, and between those hours—and, indeed, + from the very moment of Mr. Bessel's first rush from his rooms at + half-past nine in the evening—they could trace the deepening + violence of his fantastic career. For the last hour, at least from before + one, that is, until a quarter to two, he had run amuck through London, + eluding with amazing agility every effort to stop or capture him. + </p> + <p> + But after a quarter to two he had vanished. Up to that hour witnesses were + multitudinous. Dozens of people had seen him, fled from him or pursued + him, and then things suddenly came to an end. At a quarter to two he had + been seen running down the Euston Road towards Baker Street, flourishing a + can of burning colza oil and jerking splashes of flame therefrom at the + windows of the houses he passed. But none of the policemen on Euston Road + beyond the Waxwork Exhibition, nor any of those in the side streets down + which he must have passed had he left the Euston Road, had seen anything + of him. Abruptly he disappeared. Nothing of his subsequent doings came to + light in spite of the keenest inquiry. + </p> + <p> + Here was a fresh astonishment for Mr. Vincey. He had found considerable + comfort in Mr. Hart's conviction: “He is bound to be laid by the heels + before long,” and in that assurance he had been able to suspend his mental + perplexities. But any fresh development seemed destined to add new + impossibilities to a pile already heaped beyond the powers of his + acceptance. He found himself doubting whether his memory might not have + played him some grotesque trick, debating whether any of these things + could possibly have happened; and in the afternoon he hunted up Mr. Hart + again to share the intolerable weight on his mind. He found Mr. Hart + engaged with a well-known private detective, but as that gentleman + accomplished nothing in this case, we need not enlarge upon his + proceedings. + </p> + <p> + All that day Mr. Bessel's whereabouts eluded an unceasingly active + inquiry, and all that night. And all that day there was a persuasion in + the back of Vincey's mind that Mr. Bessel sought his attention, and all + through the night Mr. Bessel with a tear-stained face of anguish pursued + him through his dreams. And whenever he saw Mr. Bessel in his dreams he + also saw a number of other faces, vague but malignant, that seemed to be + pursuing Mr. Bessel. + </p> + <p> + It was on the following day, Sunday, that Mr. Vincey recalled certain + remarkable stories of Mrs. Bullock, the medium, who was then attracting + attention for the first time in London. He determined to consult her. She + was staying at the house of that well-known inquirer, Dr. Wilson Paget, + and Mr. Vincey, although he had never met that gentleman before, repaired + to him forthwith with the intention of invoking her help. But scarcely had + he mentioned the name of Bessel when Doctor Paget interrupted him. “Last + night—just at the end,” he said, “we had a communication.” + </p> + <p> + He left the room, and returned with a slate on which were certain words + written in a handwriting, shaky indeed, but indisputably the handwriting + of Mr. Bessel! + </p> + <p> + “How did you get this?” said Mr. Vincey. “Do you mean—?” + </p> + <p> + “We got it last night,” said Doctor Paget. With numerous interruptions + from Mr. Vincey, he proceeded to explain how the writing had been + obtained. It appears that in her seances, Mrs. Bullock passes into a + condition of trance, her eyes rolling up in a strange way under her + eyelids, and her body becoming rigid. She then begins to talk very + rapidly, usually in voices other than her own. At the same time one or + both of her hands may become active, and if slates and pencils are + provided they will then write messages simultaneously with and quite + independently of the flow of words from her mouth. By many she is + considered an even more remarkable medium than the celebrated Mrs. Piper. + It was one of these messages, the one written by her left hand, that Mr. + Vincey now had before him. It consisted of eight words written + disconnectedly: “George Bessel... trial excavn.... Baker Street... help... + starvation.” Curiously enough, neither Doctor Paget nor the two other + inquirers who were present had heard of the disappearance of Mr. Bessel—the + news of it appeared only in the evening papers of Saturday—and they + had put the message aside with many others of a vague and enigmatical sort + that Mrs. Bullock has from time to time delivered. + </p> + <p> + When Doctor Paget heard Mr. Vincey's story, he gave himself at once with + great energy to the pursuit of this clue to the discovery of Mr. Bessel. + It would serve no useful purpose here to describe the inquiries of Mr. + Vincey and himself; suffice it that the clue was a genuine one, and that + Mr. Bessel was actually discovered by its aid. + </p> + <p> + He was found at the bottom of a detached shaft which had been sunk and + abandoned at the commencement of the work for the new electric railway + near Baker Street Station. His arm and leg and two ribs were broken. The + shaft is protected by a hoarding nearly 20 feet high, and over this, + incredible as it seems, Mr. Bessel, a stout, middle-aged gentleman, must + have scrambled in order to fall down the shaft. He was saturated in colza + oil, and the smashed tin lay beside him, but luckily the flame had been + extinguished by his fall. And his madness had passed from him altogether. + But he was, of course, terribly enfeebled, and at the sight of his + rescuers he gave way to hysterical weeping. + </p> + <p> + In view of the deplorable state of his flat, he was taken to the house of + Dr. Hatton in Upper Baker Street. Here he was subjected to a sedative + treatment, and anything that might recall the violent crisis through which + he had passed was carefully avoided. But on the second day he volunteered + a statement. + </p> + <p> + Since that occasion Mr. Bessel has several times repeated this statement—to + myself among other people—varying the details as the narrator of + real experiences always does, but never by any chance contradicting + himself in any particular. And the statement he makes is in substance as + follows. + </p> + <p> + In order to understand it clearly it is necessary to go back to his + experiments with Mr. Vincey before his remarkable attack. Mr. Bessel's + first attempts at self-projection, in his experiments with Mr. Vincey, + were, as the reader will remember, unsuccessful. But through all of them + he was concentrating all his power and will upon getting out of the body—“willing + it with all my might,” he says. At last, almost against expectation, came + success. And Mr. Bessel asserts that he, being alive, did actually, by an + effort of will, leave his body and pass into some place or state outside + this world. + </p> + <p> + The release was, he asserts, instantaneous. “At one moment I was seated in + my chair, with my eyes tightly shut, my hands gripping the arms of the + chair, doing all I could to concentrate my mind on Vincey, and then I + perceived myself outside my body—saw my body near me, but certainly + not containing me, with the hands relaxing and the head drooping forward + on the breast.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing shakes him in his assurance of that release. He describes in a + quiet, matter-of-fact way the new sensation he experienced. He felt he had + become impalpable—so much he had expected, but he had not expected + to find himself enormously large. So, however, it would seem he became. “I + was a great cloud—if I may express it that way—anchored to my + body. It appeared to me, at first, as if I had discovered a greater self + of which the conscious being in my brain was only a little part. I saw the + Albany and Piccadilly and Regent Street and all the rooms and places in + the houses, very minute and very bright and distinct, spread out below me + like a little city seen from a balloon. Every now and then vague shapes + like drifting wreaths of smoke made the vision a little indistinct, but at + first I paid little heed to them. The thing that astonished me most, and + which astonishes me still, is that I saw quite distinctly the insides of + the houses as well as the streets, saw little people dining and talking in + the private houses, men and women dining, playing billiards, and drinking + in restaurants and hotels, and several places of entertainment crammed + with people. It was like watching the affairs of a glass hive.” + </p> + <p> + Such were Mr. Bessel's exact words as I took them down when he told me the + story. Quite forgetful of Mr. Vincey, he remained for a space observing + these things. Impelled by curiosity, he says, he stooped down, and, with + the shadowy arm he found himself possessed of, attempted to touch a man + walking along Vigo Street. But he could not do so, though his finger + seemed to pass through the man. Something prevented his doing this, but + what it was he finds it hard to describe. He compares the obstacle to a + sheet of glass. + </p> + <p> + “I felt as a kitten may feel,” he said, “when it goes for the first time + to pat its reflection in a mirror.” Again and again, on the occasion when + I heard him tell this story, Mr. Bessel returned to that comparison of the + sheet of glass. Yet it was not altogether a precise comparison, because, + as the reader will speedily see, there were interruptions of this + generally impermeable resistance, means of getting through the barrier to + the material world again. But, naturally, there is a very great difficulty + in expressing these unprecedented impressions in the language of everyday + experience. + </p> + <p> + A thing that impressed him instantly, and which weighed upon him + throughout all this experience, was the stillness of this place—he + was in a world without sound. + </p> + <p> + At first Mr. Bessel's mental state was an unemotional wonder. His thought + chiefly concerned itself with where he might be. He was out of the body—out + of his material body, at any rate—but that was not all. He believes, + and I for one believe also, that he was somewhere out of space, as we + understand it, altogether. By a strenuous effort of will he had passed out + of his body into a world beyond this world, a world undreamt of, yet lying + so close to it and so strangely situated with regard to it that all things + on this earth are clearly visible both from without and from within in + this other world about us. For a long time, as it seemed to him, this + realisation occupied his mind to the exclusion of all other matters, and + then he recalled the engagement with Mr. Vincey, to which this astonishing + experience was, after all, but a prelude. + </p> + <p> + He turned his mind to locomotion in this new body in which he found + himself. For a time he was unable to shift himself from his attachment to + his earthly carcass. For a time this new strange cloud body of his simply + swayed, contracted, expanded, coiled, and writhed with his efforts to free + himself, and then quite suddenly the link that bound him snapped. For a + moment everything was hidden by what appeared to be whirling spheres of + dark vapour, and then through a momentary gap he saw his drooping body + collapse limply, saw his lifeless head drop sideways, and found he was + driving along like a huge cloud in a strange place of shadowy clouds that + had the luminous intricacy of London spread like a model below. + </p> + <p> + But now he was aware that the fluctuating vapour about him was something + more than vapour, and the temerarious excitement of his first essay was + shot with fear. For he perceived, at first indistinctly, and then suddenly + very clearly, that he was surrounded by FACES! that each roll and coil of + the seeming cloud-stuff was a face. And such faces! Faces of thin shadow, + faces of gaseous tenuity. Faces like those faces that glare with + intolerable strangeness upon the sleeper in the evil hours of his dreams. + Evil, greedy eyes that were full of a covetous curiosity, faces with knit + brows and snarling, smiling lips; their vague hands clutched at Mr. Bessel + as he passed, and the rest of their bodies was but an elusive streak of + trailing darkness. Never a word they said, never a sound from the mouths + that seemed to gibber. All about him they pressed in that dreamy silence, + passing freely through the dim mistiness that was his body, gathering ever + more numerously about him. And the shadowy Mr. Bessel, now suddenly + fear-stricken, drove through the silent, active multitude of eyes and + clutching hands. + </p> + <p> + So inhuman were these faces, so malignant their staring eyes, and shadowy, + clawing gestures, that it did not occur to Mr. Bessel to attempt + intercourse with these drifting creatures. Idiot phantoms, they seemed, + children of vain desire, beings unborn and forbidden the boon of being, + whose only expressions and gestures told of the envy and craving for life + that was their one link with existence. + </p> + <p> + It says much for his resolution that, amidst the swarming cloud of these + noiseless spirits of evil, he could still think of Mr. Vincey. He made a + violent effort of will and found himself, he knew not how, stooping + towards Staple Inn, saw Vincey sitting attentive and alert in his + arm-chair by the fire. + </p> + <p> + And clustering also about him, as they clustered ever about all that lives + and breathes, was another multitude of these vain voiceless shadows, + longing, desiring, seeking some loophole into life. + </p> + <p> + For a space Mr. Bessel sought ineffectually to attract his friend's + attention. He tried to get in front of his eyes, to move the objects in + his room, to touch him. But Mr. Vincey remained unaffected, ignorant of + the being that was so close to his own. The strange something that Mr. + Bessel has compared to a sheet of glass separated them impermeably. + </p> + <p> + And at last Mr. Bessel did a desperate thing. I have told how that in some + strange way he could see not only the outside of a man as we see him, but + within. He extended his shadowy hand and thrust his vague black fingers, + as it seemed, through the heedless brain. + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly, Mr. Vincey started like a man who recalls his attention + from wandering thoughts, and it seemed to Mr. Bessel that a little + dark-red body situated in the middle of Mr. Vincey's brain swelled and + glowed as he did so. Since that experience he has been shown anatomical + figures of the brain, and he knows now that this is that useless + structure, as doctors call it, the pineal eye. For, strange as it will + seem to many, we have, deep in our brains—where it cannot possibly + see any earthly light—an eye! At the time this, with the rest of the + internal anatomy of the brain, was quite new to him. At the sight of its + changed appearance, however, he thrust forth his finger, and, rather + fearful still of the consequences, touched this little spot. And instantly + Mr. Vincey started, and Mr. Bessel knew that he was seen. + </p> + <p> + And at that instant it came to Mr. Bessel that evil had happened to his + body, and behold! a great wind blew through all that world of shadows and + tore him away. So strong was this persuasion that he thought no more of + Mr. Vincey, but turned about forthwith, and all the countless faces drove + back with him like leaves before a gale. But he returned too late. In an + instant he saw the body that he had left inert and collapsed—lying, + indeed, like the body of a man just dead—had arisen, had arisen by + virtue of some strength and will beyond his own. It stood with staring + eyes, stretching its limbs in dubious fashion. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he watched it in wild dismay, and then he stooped towards it. + But the pane of glass had closed against him again, and he was foiled. He + beat himself passionately against this, and all about him the spirits of + evil grinned and pointed and mocked. He gave way to furious anger. He + compares himself to a bird that has fluttered heedlessly into a room and + is beating at the window-pane that holds it back from freedom. + </p> + <p> + And behold! the little body that had once been his was now dancing with + delight. He saw it shouting, though he could not hear its shouts; he saw + the violence of its movements grow. He watched it fling his cherished + furniture about in the mad delight of existence, rend his books apart, + smash bottles, drink heedlessly from the jagged fragments, leap and smite + in a passionate acceptance of living. He watched these actions in + paralysed astonishment. Then once more he hurled himself against the + impassable barrier, and then with all that crew of mocking ghosts about + him, hurried back in dire confusion to Vincey to tell him of the outrage + that had come upon him. + </p> + <p> + But the brain of Vincey was now closed against apparitions, and the + disembodied Mr. Bessel pursued him in vain as he hurried out into Holborn + to call a cab. Foiled and terror-stricken, Mr. Bessel swept back again, to + find his desecrated body whooping in a glorious frenzy down the Burlington + Arcade.... + </p> + <p> + And now the attentive reader begins to understand Mr. Bessel's + interpretation of the first part of this strange story. The being whose + frantic rush through London had inflicted so much injury and disaster had + indeed Mr. Bessel's body, but it was not Mr. Bessel. It was an evil spirit + out of that strange world beyond existence, into which Mr. Bessel had so + rashly ventured. For twenty hours it held possession of him, and for all + those twenty hours the dispossessed spirit-body of Mr. Bessel was going to + and fro in that unheard-of middle world of shadows seeking help in vain. + He spent many hours beating at the minds of Mr. Vincey and of his friend + Mr. Hart. Each, as we know, he roused by his efforts. But the language + that might convey his situation to these helpers across the gulf he did + not know; his feeble fingers groped vainly and powerlessly in their + brains. Once, indeed, as we have already told, he was able to turn Mr. + Vincey aside from his path so that he encountered the stolen body in its + career, but he could not make him understand the thing that had happened: + he was unable to draw any help from that encounter.... + </p> + <p> + All through those hours the persuasion was overwhelming in Mr. Bessel's + mind that presently his body would be killed by its furious tenant, and he + would have to remain in this shadow-land for evermore. So that those long + hours were a growing agony of fear. And ever as he hurried to and fro in + his ineffectual excitement, innumerable spirits of that world about him + mobbed him and confused his mind. And ever an envious applauding multitude + poured after their successful fellow as he went upon his glorious career. + </p> + <p> + For that, it would seem, must be the life of these bodiless things of this + world that is the shadow of our world. Ever they watch, coveting a way + into a mortal body, in order that they may descend, as furies and + frenzies, as violent lusts and mad, strange impulses, rejoicing in the + body they have won. For Mr. Bessel was not the only human soul in that + place. Witness the fact that he met first one, and afterwards several + shadows of men, men like himself, it seemed, who had lost their bodies + even it may be as he had lost his, and wandered, despairingly, in that + lost world that is neither life nor death. They could not speak because + that world is silent, yet he knew them for men because of their dim human + bodies, and because of the sadness of their faces. + </p> + <p> + But how they had come into that world he could not tell, nor where the + bodies they had lost might be, whether they still raved about the earth, + or whether they were closed forever in death against return. That they + were the spirits of the dead neither he nor I believe. But Doctor Wilson + Paget thinks they are the rational souls of men who are lost in madness on + the earth. + </p> + <p> + At last Mr. Bessel chanced upon a place where a little crowd of such + disembodied silent creatures was gathered, and thrusting through them he + saw below a brightly-lit room, and four or five quiet gentlemen and a + woman, a stoutish woman dressed in black bombazine and sitting awkwardly + in a chair with her head thrown back. He knew her from her portraits to be + Mrs. Bullock, the medium. And he perceived that tracts and structures in + her brain glowed and stirred as he had seen the pineal eye in the brain of + Mr. Vincey glow. The light was very fitful; sometimes it was a broad + illumination, and sometimes merely a faint twilight spot, and it shifted + slowly about her brain. She kept on talking and writing with one hand. And + Mr. Bessel saw that the crowding shadows of men about him, and a great + multitude of the shadow spirits of that shadowland, were all striving and + thrusting to touch the lighted regions of her brain. As one gained her + brain or another was thrust away, her voice and the writing of her hand + changed. So that what she said was disorderly and confused for the most + part; now a fragment of one soul's message, and now a fragment of + another's, and now she babbled the insane fancies of the spirits of vain + desire. Then Mr. Bessel understood that she spoke for the spirit that had + touch of her, and he began to struggle very furiously towards her. But he + was on the outside of the crowd and at that time he could not reach her, + and at last, growing anxious, he went away to find what had happened + meanwhile to his body. For a long time he went to and fro seeking it in + vain and fearing that it must have been killed, and then he found it at + the bottom of the shaft in Baker Street, writhing furiously and cursing + with pain. Its leg and an arm and two ribs had been broken by its fall. + Moreover, the evil spirit was angry because his time had been so short and + because of the painmaking violent movements and casting his body about. + </p> + <p> + And at that Mr. Bessel returned with redoubled earnestness to the room + where the seance was going on, and so soon as he had thrust himself within + sight of the place he saw one of the men who stood about the medium + looking at his watch as if he meant that the seance should presently end. + At that a great number of the shadows who had been striving turned away + with gestures of despair. But the thought that the seance was almost over + only made Mr. Bessel the more earnest, and he struggled so stoutly with + his will against the others that presently he gained the woman's brain. It + chanced that just at that moment it glowed very brightly, and in that + instant she wrote the message that Doctor Wilson Paget preserved. And then + the other shadows and the cloud of evil spirits about him had thrust Mr. + Bessel away from her, and for all the rest of the seance he could regain + her no more. + </p> + <p> + So he went back and watched through the long hours at the bottom of the + shaft where the evil spirit lay in the stolen body it had maimed, writhing + and cursing, and weeping and groaning, and learning the lesson of pain. + And towards dawn the thing he had waited for happened, the brain glowed + brightly and the evil spirit came out, and Mr. Bessel entered the body he + had feared he should never enter again. As he did so, the silence—the + brooding silence—ended; he heard the tumult of traffic and the + voices of people overhead, and that strange world that is the shadow of + our world—the dark and silent shadows of ineffectual desire and the + shadows of lost men—vanished clean away. + </p> + <p> + He lay there for the space of about three hours before he was found. And + in spite of the pain and suffering of his wounds, and of the dim damp + place in which he lay; in spite of the tears—wrung from him by his + physical distress—his heart was full of gladness to know that he was + nevertheless back once more in the kindly world of men. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 11. MR. BRISHER'S TREASURE + </h2> + <p> + “You can't be TOO careful WHO you marry,” said Mr. Brisher, and pulled + thoughtfully with a fat-wristed hand at the lank moustache that hides his + want of chin. + </p> + <p> + “That's why—” I ventured. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Brisher, with a solemn light in his bleary, blue-grey + eyes, moving his head expressively and breathing alcohol INTIMATELY at me. + “There's lots as 'ave 'ad a try at me—many as I could name in this + town—but none 'ave done it—none.” + </p> + <p> + I surveyed the flushed countenance, the equatorial expansion, the masterly + carelessness of his attire, and heaved a sigh to think that by reason of + the unworthiness of women he must needs be the last of his race. + </p> + <p> + “I was a smart young chap when I was younger,” said Mr. Brisher. “I 'ad my + work cut out. But I was very careful—very. And I got through...” + </p> + <p> + He leant over the taproom table and thought visibly on the subject of my + trustworthiness. I was relieved at last by his confidence. + </p> + <p> + “I was engaged once,” he said at last, with a reminiscent eye on the + shuv-a'penny board. + </p> + <p> + “So near as that?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me. “So near as that. Fact is—” He looked about him, + brought his face close to mine, lowered his voice, and fenced off an + unsympathetic world with a grimy hand. “If she ain't dead or married to + some one else or anything—I'm engaged still. Now.” He confirmed this + statement with nods and facial contortions. “STILL,” he said, ending the + pantomime, and broke into a reckless smile at my surprise. “ME!” + </p> + <p> + “Run away,” he explained further, with coruscating eyebrows. “Come 'ome. + </p> + <p> + “That ain't all. + </p> + <p> + “You'd 'ardly believe it,” he said, “but I found a treasure. Found a + regular treasure.” + </p> + <p> + I fancied this was irony, and did not, perhaps, greet it with proper + surprise. “Yes,” he said, “I found a treasure. And come 'ome. I tell you I + could surprise you with things that has happened to me.” And for some time + he was content to repeat that he had found a treasure—and left it. + </p> + <p> + I made no vulgar clamour for a story, but I became attentive to Mr. + Brisher's bodily needs, and presently I led him back to the deserted lady. + </p> + <p> + “She was a nice girl,” he said—a little sadly, I thought. “AND + respectable.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyebrows and tightened his mouth to express extreme + respectability—beyond the likes of us elderly men. + </p> + <p> + “It was a long way from 'ere. Essex, in fact. Near Colchester. It was when + I was up in London—in the buildin' trade. I was a smart young chap + then, I can tell you. Slim. 'Ad best clo'es 's good as anybody. 'At—SILK + 'at, mind you.” Mr. Brisher's hand shot above his head towards the + infinite to indicate it silk hat of the highest. “Umbrella—nice + umbrella with a 'orn 'andle. Savin's. Very careful I was....” + </p> + <p> + He was pensive for a little while, thinking, as we must all come to think + sooner or later, of the vanished brightness of youth. But he refrained, as + one may do in taprooms, from the obvious moral. + </p> + <p> + “I got to know 'er through a chap what was engaged to 'er sister. She was + stopping in London for a bit with an aunt that 'ad a 'am an' beef shop. + This aunt was very particular—they was all very particular people, + all 'er people was—and wouldn't let 'er sister go out with this + feller except 'er other sister, MY girl that is, went with them. So 'e + brought me into it, sort of to ease the crowding. We used to go walks in + Battersea Park of a Sunday afternoon. Me in my topper, and 'im in 'is; and + the girl's—well—stylish. There wasn't many in Battersea Park + 'ad the larf of us. She wasn't what you'd call pretty, but a nicer girl I + never met. <i>I</i> liked 'er from the start, and, well—though I say + it who shouldn't—she liked me. You know 'ow it is, I dessay?” + </p> + <p> + I pretended I did. + </p> + <p> + “And when this chap married 'er sister—'im and me was great friends—what + must 'e do but arst me down to Colchester, close by where She lived. + Naturally I was introjuced to 'er people, and well, very soon, her and me + was engaged.” + </p> + <p> + He repeated “engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “She lived at 'ome with 'er father and mother, quite the lady, in a very + nice little 'ouse with a garden—and remarkable respectable people + they was. Rich you might call 'em a'most. They owned their own 'ouse—got + it out of the Building Society, and cheap because the chap who had it + before was a burglar and in prison—and they 'ad a bit of free'old + land, and some cottages and money 'nvested—all nice and tight: they + was what you'd call snug and warm. I tell you, I was On. Furniture too. + Why! They 'ad a pianner. Jane—'er name was Jane—used to play + it Sundays, and very nice she played too. There wasn't 'ardly a 'im toon + in the book she COULDN'T play... + </p> + <p> + “Many's the evenin' we've met and sung 'ims there, me and 'er and the + family. + </p> + <p> + “'Er father was quite a leadin' man in chapel. You should ha' seen him + Sundays, interruptin' the minister and givin' out 'ims. He had gold + spectacles, I remember, and used to look over 'em at you while he sang + hearty—he was always great on singing 'earty to the Lord—and + when HE got out o' toon 'arf the people went after 'im—always. 'E + was that sort of man. And to walk be'ind 'im in 'is nice black clo'es—'is + 'at was a brimmer—made one regular proud to be engaged to such a + father-in-law. And when the summer came I went down there and stopped a + fortnight. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you know there was a sort of Itch,” said Mr. Brisher. “We wanted to + marry, me and Jane did, and get things settled. But 'E said I 'ad to get a + proper position first. Consequently there was a Itch. Consequently, when I + went down there, I was anxious to show that I was a good useful sort of + chap like. Show I could do pretty nearly everything like. See?” + </p> + <p> + I made a sympathetic noise. + </p> + <p> + “And down at the bottom of their garden was a bit of wild part like. So I + says to 'im, 'Why don't you 'ave a rockery 'ere?' I says. 'It 'ud look + nice.' + </p> + <p> + “'Too much expense,' he says. + </p> + <p> + “'Not a penny,' says I. 'I'm a dab at rockeries. Lemme make you one.' You + see, I'd 'elped my brother make a rockery in the beer garden be'ind 'is + tap, so I knew 'ow to do it to rights. 'Lemme make you one,' I says. 'It's + 'olidays, but I'm that sort of chap, I 'ate doing nothing,' I says. 'I'll + make you one to rights.' And the long and the short of it was, he said I + might. + </p> + <p> + “And that's 'ow I come on the treasure.” + </p> + <p> + “What treasure?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why!” said Mr. Brisher, “the treasure I'm telling you about, what's the + reason why I never married.” + </p> + <p> + “What!—a treasure—dug up?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—buried wealth—treasure trove. Come out of the ground. + What I kept on saying—regular treasure....” He looked at me with + unusual disrespect. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't more than a foot deep, not the top of it,” he said. “I'd 'ardly + got thirsty like, before I come on the corner.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” I said. “I didn't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Why! Directly I 'it the box I knew it was treasure. A sort of instinct + told me. Something seemed to shout inside of me—'Now's your chance—lie + low.' It's lucky I knew the laws of treasure trove or I'd 'ave been + shoutin' there and then. I daresay you know—” + </p> + <p> + “Crown bags it,” I said, “all but one per cent. Go on. It's a shame. What + did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Uncovered the top of the box. There wasn't anybody in the garden or about + like. Jane was 'elping 'er mother do the 'ouse. I WAS excited—I tell + you. I tried the lock and then gave a whack at the hinges. Open it came. + Silver coins—full! Shining. It made me tremble to see 'em. And jest + then—I'm blessed if the dustman didn't come round the back of the + 'ouse. It pretty nearly gave me 'eart disease to think what a fool I was + to 'ave that money showing. And directly after I 'eard the chap next door—'e + was 'olidaying, too—I 'eard him watering 'is beans. If only 'e'd + looked over the fence!” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Kicked the lid on again and covered it up like a shot, and went on + digging about a yard away from it—like mad. And my face, so to + speak, was laughing on its own account till I had it hid. I tell you I was + regular scared like at my luck. I jest thought that it 'ad to be kep' + close and that was all. 'Treasure,' I kep' whisperin' to myself, + 'Treasure' and ''undreds of pounds, 'undreds, 'undreds of pounds.' + Whispering to myself like, and digging like blazes. It seemed to me the + box was regular sticking out and showing, like your legs do under the + sheets in bed, and I went and put all the earth I'd got out of my 'ole for + the rockery slap on top of it. I WAS in a sweat. And in the midst of it + all out toddles 'er father. He didn't say anything to me, jest stood + behind me and stared, but Jane tole me afterwards when he went indoors, 'e + says, 'That there jackanapes of yours, Jane'—he always called me a + jackanapes some'ow—'knows 'ow to put 'is back into it after all.' + Seemed quite impressed by it, 'e did.” + </p> + <p> + “How long was the box?” I asked, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “'Ow long?” said Mr. Brisher. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—in length?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! 'bout so-by-so.” Mr. Brisher indicated a moderate-sized trunk. + </p> + <p> + “FULL?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Full up of silver coins—'arf-crowns, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Why!” I cried, “that would mean—hundreds of pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Thousands,” said Mr. Brisher, in a sort of sad calm. “I calc'lated it + out.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did they get there?” + </p> + <p> + “All I know is what I found. What I thought at the time was this. The chap + who'd owned the 'ouse before 'er father 'd been a regular slap-up burglar. + What you'd call a 'igh-class criminal. Used to drive 'is trap—like + Peace did.” Mr. Brisher meditated on the difficulties of narration and + embarked on a complicated parenthesis. “I don't know if I told you it'd + been a burglar's 'ouse before it was my girl's father's, and I knew 'e'd + robbed a mail train once, I did know that. It seemed to me—” + </p> + <p> + “That's very likely,” I said. “But what did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Sweated,” said Mr. Brisher. “Regular run orf me. All that morning,” said + Mr. Brisher, “I was at it, pretending to make that rockery and wondering + what I should do. I'd 'ave told 'er father p'r'aps, only I was doubtful of + 'is honesty—I was afraid he might rob me of it like, and give it up + to the authorities—and besides, considering I was marrying into the + family, I thought it would be nicer like if it came through me. Put me on + a better footing, so to speak. Well, I 'ad three days before me left of my + 'olidays, so there wasn't no hurry, so I covered it up and went on + digging, and tried to puzzle out 'ow I was to make sure of it. Only I + couldn't. + </p> + <p> + “I thought,” said Mr. Brisher, “AND I thought. Once I got regular doubtful + whether I'd seen it or not, and went down to it and 'ad it uncovered + again, just as her ma came out to 'ang up a bit of washin' she'd done. + Jumps again! Afterwards I was just thinking I'd 'ave another go at it, + when Jane comes to tell me dinner was ready. 'You'll want it,' she said, + 'seeing all the 'ole you've dug.' + </p> + <p> + “I was in a regular daze all dinner, wondering whether that chap next door + wasn't over the fence and filling 'is pockets. But in the afternoon I got + easier in my mind—it seemed to me it must 'ave been there so long it + was pretty sure to stop a bit longer—and I tried to get up a bit of + a discussion to dror out the old man and see what 'E thought of treasure + trove.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brisher paused, and affected amusement at the memory. + </p> + <p> + “The old man was a scorcher,” he said; “a regular scorcher.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said I; “did he—?” + </p> + <p> + “It was like this,” explained Mr. Brisher, laying a friendly hand on my + arm and breathing into my face to calm me. “Just to dror 'im out, I told a + story of a chap I said I knew—pretendin', you know—who'd found + a sovring in a novercoat 'e'd borrowed. I said 'e stuck to it, but I said + I wasn't sure whether that was right or not. And then the old man began. + Lor'! 'e DID let me 'ave it!” Mr. Brisher affected an insincere amusement. + “'E was, well—what you might call a rare 'and at Snacks. Said that + was the sort of friend 'e'd naturally expect me to 'ave. Said 'e'd + naturally expect that from the friend of a out-of-work loafer who took up + with daughters who didn't belong to 'im. There! I couldn't tell you 'ARF + 'e said. 'E went on most outrageous. I stood up to 'im about it, just to + dror 'im out. 'Wouldn't you stick to a 'arf-sov', not if you found it in + the street?' I says. 'Certainly not,' 'e says; 'certainly I wouldn't.' + 'What! not if you found it as a sort of treasure?' 'Young man,' 'e says, + 'there's 'i'er 'thority than mine—Render unto Caesar'—what is + it? Yes. Well, he fetched up that. A rare 'and at 'itting you over the 'ed + with the Bible, was the old man. And so he went on. 'E got to such Snacks + about me at last I couldn't stand it. I'd promised Jane not to answer 'im + back, but it got a bit TOO thick. I—I give it 'im...” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brisher, by means of enigmatical facework, tried to make me think he + had had the best of that argument, but I knew better. + </p> + <p> + “I went out in a 'uff at last. But not before I was pretty sure I 'ad to + lift that treasure by myself. The only thing that kep' me up was thinking + 'ow I'd take it out of 'im when I 'ad the cash.” + </p> + <p> + There was a lengthy pause. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you'd 'ardly believe it, but all them three days I never 'ad a + chance at the blessed treasure, never got out not even a 'arf-crown. There + was always a Somethink—always. + </p> + <p> + “'Stonishing thing it isn't thought of more,” said Mr. Brisher. “Finding + treasure's no great shakes. It's gettin' it. I don't suppose I slep' a + wink any of those nights, thinking where I was to take it, what I was to + do with it, 'ow I was to explain it. It made me regular ill. And days I + was that dull, it made Jane regular 'uffy. 'You ain't the same chap you + was in London,' she says, several times. I tried to lay it on 'er father + and 'is Snacks, but bless you, she knew better. What must she 'ave but + that I'd got another girl on my mind! Said I wasn't True. Well, we had a + bit of a row. But I was that set on the Treasure, I didn't seem to mind a + bit Anything she said. + </p> + <p> + “Well, at last I got a sort of plan. I was always a bit good at planning, + though carrying out isn't so much in my line. I thought it all out and + settled on a plan. First, I was going to take all my pockets full of these + 'ere 'arf-crowns—see?—and afterwards as I shall tell. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I got to that state I couldn't think of getting at the Treasure + again in the daytime, so I waited until the night before I had to go, and + then, when everything was still, up I gets and slips down to the back + door, meaning to get my pockets full. What must I do in the scullery but + fall over a pail! Up gets 'er father with a gun—'e was a light + sleeper was 'er father, and very suspicious and there was me: 'ad to + explain I'd come down to the pump for a drink because my water-bottle was + bad. 'E didn't let me off a Snack or two over that bit, you lay a bob.” + </p> + <p> + “And you mean to say—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit,” said Mr. Brisher. “I say, I'd made my plan. That put the + kybosh on one bit, but it didn't 'urt the general scheme not a bit. I went + and I finished that rockery next day, as though there wasn't a Snack in + the world; cemented over the stones, I did, dabbed it green and + everythink. I put a dab of green just to show where the box was. They all + came and looked at it, and sai 'ow nice it was—even 'e was a bit + softer like to see it, and all he said was, 'It's a pity you can't always + work like that, then you might get something definite to do,' he says. + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' I says—I couldn't 'elp it—'I put a lot in that + rockery,' I says, like that. See? 'I put a lot in that rockery'—meaning—” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said I—for Mr. Brisher is apt to overelaborate his jokes. + </p> + <p> + “<i>'E</i> didn't,” said Mr. Brisher. “Not then, anyhow. + </p> + <p> + “Ar'ever—after all that was over, off I set for London.... Orf I set + for London.” + </p> + <p> + Pause. + </p> + <p> + “On'y I wasn't going to no London,” said Mr. Brisher, with sudden + animation, and thrusting his face into mine. “No fear! What do YOU think? + </p> + <p> + “I didn't go no further than Colchester—not a yard. + </p> + <p> + “I'd left the spade just where I could find it. I'd got everything planned + and right. I 'ired a little trap in Colchester, and pretended I wanted to + go to Ipswich and stop the night, and come back next day, and the chap I + 'ired it from made me leave two sovrings on it right away, and off I set. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't go to no Ipswich neither. + </p> + <p> + “Midnight the 'orse and trap was 'itched by the little road that ran by + the cottage where 'e lived—not sixty yards off, it wasn't—and + I was at it like a good 'un. It was jest the night for such games—overcast—but + a trifle too 'ot, and all round the sky there was summer lightning and + presently a thunderstorm. Down it came. First big drops in a sort of + fizzle, then 'ail. I kep'on. I whacked at it—I didn't dream the old + man would 'ear. I didn't even trouble to go quiet with the spade, and the + thunder and lightning and 'ail seemed to excite me like. I shouldn't + wonder if I was singing. I got so 'ard at it I clean forgot the thunder + and the 'orse and trap. I precious soon got the box showing, and started + to lift it....” + </p> + <p> + “Heavy?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't no more lift it than fly. I WAS sick. I'd never thought of + that I got regular wild—I tell you, I cursed. I got sort of + outrageous. I didn't think of dividing it like for the minute, and even + then I couldn't 'ave took money about loose in a trap. I hoisted one end + sort of wild like, and over the whole show went with a tremenjous noise. + Perfeck smash of silver. And then right on the heels of that, Flash! + Lightning like the day! and there was the back door open and the old man + coming down the garden with 'is blooming old gun. He wasn't not a 'undred + yards away! + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I was that upset—I didn't think what I was doing. I + never stopped-not even to fill my pockets. I went over the fence like a + shot, and ran like one o'clock for the trap, cussing and swearing as I + went. I WAS in a state.... + </p> + <p> + “And will you believe me, when I got to the place where I'd left the 'orse + and trap, they'd gone. Orf! When I saw that I 'adn't a cuss left for it. I + jest danced on the grass, and when I'd danced enough I started off to + London.... I was done.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brisher was pensive for an interval. “I was done,” he repeated, very + bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “That's all,” said Mr. Brisher. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't go back?” + </p> + <p> + “No fear. I'd 'ad enough of THAT blooming treasure, any'ow for a bit. + Besides, I didn't know what was done to chaps who tried to collar a + treasure trove. I started off for London there and then....” + </p> + <p> + “And you never went back?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “But about Jane? Did you write?” + </p> + <p> + “Three times, fishing like. And no answer. We'd parted in a bit of a 'uff + on account of 'er being jealous. So that I couldn't make out for certain + what it meant. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know whether the old man knew it + was me. I sort of kep' an eye open on papers to see when he'd give up that + treasure to the Crown, as I hadn't a doubt 'e would, considering 'ow + respectable he'd always been.” + </p> + <p> + “And did he?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brisher pursed his mouth and moved his head slowly from side to side. + “Not 'IM,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Jane was a nice girl,” he said, “a thorough nice girl mind you, if + jealous, and there's no knowing I mightn't 'ave gone back to 'er after a + bit. I thought if he didn't give up the treasure I might 'ave a sort of + 'old on 'im.... Well, one day I looks as usual under Colchester—and + there I saw 'is name. What for, d'yer think?” + </p> + <p> + I could not guess. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brisher's voice sank to a whisper, and once more he spoke behind his + hand. His manner was suddenly suffused with a positive joy. “Issuing + counterfeit coins,” he said. “Counterfeit coins!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean to say—?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes-It. Bad. Quite a long case they made of it. But they got 'im, though + he dodged tremenjous. Traced 'is 'aving passed, oh!—nearly a dozen + bad 'arf-crowns.” + </p> + <p> + “And you didn't—?” + </p> + <p> + “No fear. And it didn't do 'IM much good to say it was treasure trove.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 12. MISS WINCHELSEA'S HEART + </h2> + <p> + Miss Winchelsea was going to Rome. The matter had filled her mind for a + month or more, and had overflowed so abundantly into her conversation that + quite a number of people who were not going to Rome, and who were not + likely to go to Rome, had made it a personal grievance against her. Some + indeed had attempted quite unavailingly to convince her that Rome was not + nearly such a desirable place as it was reported to be, and others had + gone so far as to suggest behind her back that she was dreadfully “stuck + up” about “that Rome of hers.” And little Lily Hardhurst had told her + friend Mr. Binns that so far as she was concerned Miss Winchelsea might + “go to her old Rome and stop there; SHE (Miss Lily Hardhurst) wouldn't + grieve.” And the way in which Miss Winchelsea put herself upon terms of + personal tenderness with Horace and Benvenuto Cellini and Raphael and + Shelley and Keats—if she had been Shelley's widow she could not have + professed a keener interest in his grave—was a matter of universal + astonishment. Her dress was a triumph of tactful discretion, sensible, but + not too “touristy”—Miss Winchelsea, had a great dread of being + “touristy”—and her Baedeker was carried in a cover of grey to hide + its glaring red. She made a prim and pleasant little figure on the Charing + Cross platform, in spite of her swelling pride, when at last the great day + dawned, and she could start for Rome. The day was bright, the Channel + passage would be pleasant, and all the omens promised well. There was the + gayest sense of adventure in this unprecedented departure. + </p> + <p> + She was going with two friends who had been fellow-students with her at + the training college, nice honest girls both, though not so good at + history and literature as Miss Winchelsea. They both looked up to her + immensely, though physically they had to look down, and she anticipated + some pleasant times to be spent in “stirring them up” to her own pitch of + aesthetic and historical enthusiasm. They had secured seats already, and + welcomed her effusively at the carriage door. In the instant criticism of + the encounter she noted that Fanny had a slightly “touristy” leather + strap, and that Helen had succumbed to a serge jacket with side pockets, + into which her hands were thrust. But they were much too happy with + themselves and the expedition for their friend to attempt any hint at the + moment about these things. As soon as the first ecstasies were over—Fanny's + enthusiasm was a little noisy and crude, and consisted mainly in emphatic + repetitions of “Just FANCY! we're going to Rome, my dear!—Rome!”—they + gave their attention to their fellow-travellers. Helen was anxious to + secure a compartment to themselves, and, in order to discourage intruders, + got out and planted herself firmly on the step. Miss Winchelsea peeped out + over her shoulder, and made sly little remarks about the accumulating + people on the platform, at which Fanny laughed gleefully. + </p> + <p> + They were travelling with one of Mr. Thomas Gunn's parties—fourteen + days in Rome for fourteen pounds. They did not belong to the personally + conducted party of course—Miss Winchelsea had seen to that—but + they travelled with it because of the convenience of that arrangement. The + people were the oddest mixture, and wonderfully amusing. There was a + vociferous red-faced polyglot personal conductor in a pepper-and-salt + suit, very long in the arms and legs and very active. He shouted + proclamations. When he wanted to speak to people he stretched out an arm + and held them until his purpose was accomplished. One hand was full of + papers, tickets, counterfoils of tourists. The people of the personally + conducted party were, it seemed, of two sorts; people the conductor wanted + and could not find, and people he did not want and who followed him in a + steadily growing tail up and down the platform. These people seemed, + indeed, to think that their one chance of reaching Rome lay in keeping + close to him. Three little old ladies were particularly energetic in his + pursuit, and at last maddened him to the pitch of clapping them into a + carriage and daring them to emerge again. For the rest of the time, one, + two, or three of their heads protruded from the window wailing enquiries + about “a little wickerwork box” whenever he drew near. There was a very + stout man with a very stout wife in shiny black; there was a little old + man like an aged hostler. + </p> + <p> + “What CAN such people want in Rome?” asked Miss Winchelsea. “What can it + mean to them?” There was a very tall curate in a very small straw hat, and + a very short curate encumbered by a long camera stand. The contrast amused + Fanny very much. Once they heard some one calling for “Snooks.” “I always + thought that name was invented by novelists,” said Miss Winchelsea. + “Fancy! Snooks. I wonder which IS Mr. Snooks.” Finally they picked out a + very stout and resolute little man in a large check suit. “If he isn't + Snooks, he ought to be,” said Miss Winchelsea. + </p> + <p> + Presently the conductor discovered Helen's attempt at a corner in + carriages. “Room for five,” he bawled with a parallel translation on his + fingers. A party of four together—mother, father, and two daughters—blundered + in, all greatly excited. “It's all right, Ma, you let me,” said one of the + daughters, hitting her mother's bonnet with a handbag she struggled to put + in the rack. Miss Winchelsea detested people who banged about and called + their mother “Ma.” A young man travelling alone followed. He was not at + all “touristy” in his costume, Miss Winchelsea observed; his Gladstone bag + was of good pleasant leather with labels reminiscent of Luxembourg and + Ostend, and his boots, though brown, were not vulgar. He carried an + overcoat on his arm. Before these people had properly settled in their + places, came an inspection of tickets and a slamming of doors, and behold! + they were gliding out of Charing Cross station on their way to Rome. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy!” cried Fanny, “we are going to Rome, my dear! Rome! I don't seem + to believe it, even now.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Winchelsea suppressed Fanny's emotions with a little smile, and the + lady who was called “Ma” explained to people in general why they had “cut + it so close” at the station. The two daughters called her “Ma” several + times, toned her down in a tactless effective way, and drove her at last + to the muttered inventory of a basket of travelling requisites. Presently + she looked up. “Lor'!” she said, “I didn't bring THEM!” Both the daughters + said “Oh, Ma!” but what “them” was did not appear. Presently Fanny + produced Hare's Walks in Rome, a sort of mitigated guide-book very popular + among Roman visitors; and the father of the two daughters began to examine + his books of tickets minutely, apparently in a search after English words. + When he had looked at the tickets for a long time right way up, he turned + them upside down. Then he produced a fountain pen and dated them with + considerable care. The young man, having completed an unostentatious + survey of his fellow travellers, produced a book and fell to reading. When + Helen and Fanny were looking out of the window at Chiselhurst—the + place interested Fanny because the poor dear Empress of the French used to + live there—Miss Winchelsea took the opportunity to observe the book + the young man held. It was not a guide-book, but a little thin volume of + poetry—BOUND. She glanced at his face—it seemed a refined + pleasant face to her hasty glance. He wore a little gilt pince-nez. “Do + you think she lives there now?” said Fanny, and Miss Winchelsea's + inspection came to an end. + </p> + <p> + For the rest of the journey Miss Winchelsea talked little, and what she + said was as pleasant and as stamped with refinement as she could make it. + Her voice was always low and clear and pleasant, and she took care that on + this occasion it was particularly low and clear and pleasant. As they came + under the white cliffs the young man put his book of poetry away, and when + at last the train stopped beside the boat, he displayed a graceful + alacrity with the impedimenta of Miss Winchelsea and her friends. Miss + Winchelsea hated nonsense, but she was pleased to see the young man + perceived at once that they were ladies, and helped them without any + violent geniality; and how nicely he showed that his civilities were to be + no excuse for further intrusions. None of her little party had been out of + England before, and they were all excited and a little nervous at the + Channel passage. They stood in a little group in a good place near the + middle of the boat—the young man had taken Miss Winchelsea's + carry-all there and had told her it was a good place—and they + watched the white shores of Albion recede and quoted Shakespeare and made + quiet fun of their fellow travellers in the English way. + </p> + <p> + They were particularly amused at the precautions the bigger-sized people + had taken against the little waves—cut lemons and flasks prevailed, + one lady lay full-length in a deck chair with a handkerchief over her + face, and a very broad resolute man in a bright brown “touristy” suit + walked all the way from England to France along the deck, with his legs as + widely apart as Providence permitted. These were all excellent + precautions, and, nobody was ill. The personally conducted party pursued + the conductor about the deck with enquiries in a manner that suggested to + Helen's mind the rather vulgar image of hens with a piece of bacon peel, + until at last he went into hiding below. And the young man with the thin + volume of poetry stood at the stern watching England receding, looking + rather lonely and sad to Miss Winchelsea's eye. + </p> + <p> + And then came Calais and tumultuous novelties, and the young man had not + forgotten Miss Winchelsea's hold-all and the other little things. All + three girls, though they had passed government examinations in French to + any extent, were stricken with a dumb shame of their accents, and the + young man was very useful. And he did not intrude. He put them in a + comfortable carriage and raised his hat and went away. Miss Winchelsea + thanked him in her best manner—a pleasing, cultivated manner—and + Fanny said he was “nice” almost before he was out of earshot. “I wonder + what he can be,” said Helen. “He's going to Italy, because I noticed green + tickets in his book.” Miss Winchelsea almost told them of the poetry, and + decided not to do so. And presently the carriage windows seized hold upon + them and the young man was forgotten. It made them feel that they were + doing an educated sort of thing to travel through a country whose + commonest advertisements were in idiomatic French, and Miss Winchelsea + made unpatriotic comparisons because there were weedy little sign-board + advertisements by the rail side instead of the broad hoardings that deface + the landscape in our land. But the north of France is really uninteresting + country, and after a time Fanny reverted to Hare's Walks and Helen + initiated lunch. Miss Winchelsea awoke out of a happy reverie; she had + been trying to realise, she said, that she was actually going to Rome, but + she perceived at Helen's suggestion that she was hungry, and they lunched + out of their baskets very cheerfully. In the afternoon they were tired and + silent until Helen made tea. Miss Winchelsea might have dozed, only she + knew Fanny slept with her mouth open; and as their fellow passengers were + two rather nice critical-looking ladies of uncertain age—who knew + French well enough to talk it—she employed herself in keeping Fanny + awake. The rhythm of the train became insistent, and the streaming + landscape outside became at last quite painful to the eye. They were + already dreadfully tired of travelling before their night's stoppage came. + </p> + <p> + The stoppage for the night was brightened by the appearance of the young + man, and his manners were all that could be desired and his French quite + serviceable. His coupons availed for the same hotel as theirs, and by + chance as it seemed he sat next Miss Winchelsea at the table d'hote. In + spite of her enthusiasm for Rome, she had thought out some such + possibility very thoroughly, and when he ventured to make a remark upon + the tediousness of travelling—he let the soup and fish go by before + he did this—she did not simply assent to his proposition, but + responded with another. They were soon comparing their journeys, and Helen + and Fanny were cruelly overlooked in the conversation. It was to be the + same journey, they found; one day for the galleries at Florence—“from + what I hear,” said the young man, “it is barely enough,”—and the + rest at Rome. He talked of Rome very pleasantly; he was evidently quite + well read, and he quoted Horace about Soracte. Miss Winchelsea had “done” + that book of Horace for her matriculation, and was delighted to cap his + quotation. It gave a sort of tone to things, this incident—a touch + of refinement to mere chatting. Fanny expressed a few emotions, and Helen + interpolated a few sensible remarks, but the bulk of the talk on the + girls' side naturally fell to Miss Winchelsea. + </p> + <p> + Before they reached Rome this young man was tacitly of their party. They + did not know his name nor what he was, but it seemed he taught, and Miss + Winchelsea had a shrewd idea he was an extension lecturer. At any rate he + was something of that sort, something gentlemanly and refined without + being opulent and impossible. She tried once or twice to ascertain whether + he came from Oxford or Cambridge, but he missed her timid importunities. + She tried to get him to make remarks about those places to see if he would + say “come up” to them instead of “go down”—she knew that was how you + told a 'Varsity man. He used the word “'Varsity”—not university—in + quite the proper way. + </p> + <p> + They saw as much of Mr. Ruskin's Florence as the brief time permitted; he + met them in the Pitti Gallery and went round with them, chatting brightly, + and evidently very grateful for their recognition. He knew a great deal + about art, and all four enjoyed the morning immensely. It was fine to go + round recognising old favourites and finding new beauties, especially + while so many people fumbled helplessly with Baedeker. Nor was he a bit of + a prig, Miss Winchelsea said, and indeed she detested prigs. He had a + distinct undertone of humour, and was funny, for example, without being + vulgar, at the expense of the quaint work of Beato Angelico. He had a + grave seriousness beneath it all, and was quick to seize the moral lessons + of the pictures. Fanny went softly among these masterpieces; she admitted + “she knew so little about them,” and she confessed that to her they were + “all beautiful.” Fanny's “beautiful” inclined to be a little monotonous, + Miss Winchelsea thought. She had been quite glad when the last sunny Alp + had vanished, because of the staccato of Fanny's admiration. Helen said + little, but Miss Winchelsea had found her a little wanting on the + aesthetic side in the old days and was not surprised; sometimes she + laughed at the young man's hesitating delicate little jests and sometimes + she didn't, and sometimes she seemed quite lost to the art about them in + the contemplation of the dresses of the other visitors. + </p> + <p> + At Rome the young man was with them intermittently. A rather “touristy” + friend of his took him away at times. He complained comically to Miss + Winchelsea. “I have only two short weeks in Rome,” he said, “and my friend + Leonard wants to spend a whole day at Tivoli, looking at a waterfall.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your friend Leonard?” asked Miss Winchelsea abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “He's the most enthusiastic pedestrian I ever met,” the young man replied, + amusingly, but a little unsatisfactorily, Miss Winchelsea thought. They + had some glorious times, and Fanny could not think what they would have + done without him. Miss Winchelsea's interest and Fanny's enormous capacity + for admiration were insatiable. They never flagged—through pictures + and sculpture galleries, immense crowded churches, ruins and museums, + Judas trees and prickly pears, wine carts and palaces, they admired their + way unflinchingly. They never saw a stone pine or a eucalyptus but they + named and admired it; they never glimpsed Soracte but they exclaimed. + Their common ways were made wonderful by imaginative play. “Here Caesar + may have walked,” they would say. “Raphael may have seen Soracte from this + very point.” They happened on the tomb of Bibulus. “Old Bibulus,” said the + young man. “The oldest monument of Republican Rome!” said Miss Winchelsea. + </p> + <p> + “I'm dreadfully stupid,” said Fanny, “but who WAS Bibulus?” + </p> + <p> + There was a curious little pause. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't he the person who built the wall?” said Helen. + </p> + <p> + The young man glanced quickly at her and laughed. “That was Balbus,” he + said. Helen reddened, but neither he nor Miss Winchelsea threw any light + upon Fanny's ignorance about Bibulus. + </p> + <p> + Helen was more taciturn than the other three, but then she was always + taciturn, and usually she took care of the tram tickets and things like + that, or kept her eye on them if the young man took them, and told him + where they were when he wanted them. Glorious times they had, these young + people, in that pale brown cleanly city of memories that was once the + world. Their only sorrow was the shortness of the time. They said indeed + that the electric trams and the '70 buildings, and that criminal + advertisement that glares upon the Forum, outraged their aesthetic + feelings unspeakably; but that was only part of the fun. And indeed Rome + is such a wonderful place that it made Miss Winchelsea forget some of her + most carefully prepared enthusiasms at times, and Helen, taken unawares, + would suddenly admit the beauty of unexpected things. Yet Fanny and Helen + would have liked a shop window or so in the English quarter if Miss + Winchelsea's uncompromising hostility to all other English visitors had + not rendered that district impossible. + </p> + <p> + The intellectual and aesthetic fellowship of Miss Winchelsea and the + scholarly young man passed insensibly towards a deeper feeling. The + exuberant Fanny did her best to keep pace with their recondite admiration + by playing her “beautiful,” with vigour, and saying “Oh! LET'S go,” with + enormous appetite whenever a new place of interest was mentioned. But + Helen developed a certain want of sympathy towards the end, that + disappointed Miss Winchelsea a little. She refused to “see anything” in + the face of Beatrice Cenci—Shelley's Beatrice Cenci!—in the + Barberini gallery; and one day, when they were deploring the electric + trams, she said rather snappishly that “people must get about somehow, and + it's better than torturing horses up these horrid little hills.” She spoke + of the Seven Hills of Rome as “horrid little hills!” + </p> + <p> + And the day they went on the Palatine—though Miss Winchelsea did not + know of this—she remarked suddenly to Fanny, “Don't hurry like that, + my dear; THEY don't want us to overtake them. And we don't say the right + things for them when we DO get near.” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't trying to overtake them,” said Fanny, slackening her excessive + pace; “I wasn't indeed.” And for a minute she was short of breath. + </p> + <p> + But Miss Winchelsea had come upon happiness. It was only when she came to + look back across an intervening tragedy that she quite realised how happy + she had been, pacing among the cypress-shadowed ruins, and exchanging the + very highest class of information the human mind can possess, the most + refined impressions it is possible to convey. Insensibly emotion crept + into their intercourse, sunning itself openly and pleasantly at last when + Helen's modernity was not too near. Insensibly their interest drifted from + the wonderful associations about them to their more intimate and personal + feelings. In a tentative way information was supplied; she spoke + allusively of her school, of her examination successes, of her gladness + that the days of “Cram” were over. He made it quite clear that he also was + a teacher. They spoke of the greatness of their calling, of the necessity + of sympathy to face its irksome details, of a certain loneliness they + sometimes felt. + </p> + <p> + That was in the Colosseum, and it was as far as they got that day, because + Helen returned with Fanny—she had taken her into the upper + galleries. Yet the private dreams of Miss Winchelsea, already vivid and + concrete enough, became now realistic in the highest degree. She figured + that pleasant young man, lecturing in the most edifying way to his + students, herself modestly prominent as his intellectual mate and helper; + she figured a refined little home, with two bureaus, with white shelves of + high-class books, and autotypes of the pictures of Rossetti and + Burne-Jones, with Morris's wall papers and flowers in pots of beaten + copper. Indeed she figured many things. On the Pincio the two had a few + precious moments together, while Helen marched Fanny off to see the muro + Torto, and he spoke at once plainly. He said he hoped their friendship was + only beginning, that he already found her company very precious to him, + that indeed it was more than that. + </p> + <p> + He became nervous, thrusting at his glasses with trembling fingers as + though he fancied his emotions made them unstable. “I should of course,” + he said, “tell you things about myself. I know it is rather unusual my + speaking to you like this. Only our meeting has been so accidental—or + providential—and I am snatching at things. I came to Rome expecting + a lonely tour... and I have been so very happy, so very happy. Quite + recently I found myself in a position—I have dared to think—. + And—” + </p> + <p> + He glanced over his shoulder and stopped. He said “Damn!” quite distinctly—and + she did not condemn him for that manly lapse into profanity. She looked + and saw his friend Leonard advancing. He drew nearer; he raised his hat to + Miss Winchelsea, and his smile was almost a grin. “I've been looking for + you everywhere, Snooks,” he said. “You promised to be on the Piazza steps + half an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + Snooks! The name struck Miss Winchelsea like a blow in the face. She did + not hear his reply. She thought afterwards that Leonard must have + considered her the vaguest-minded person. To this day she is not sure + whether she was introduced to Leonard or not, nor what she said to him. A + sort of mental paralysis was upon her. Of all offensive surnames—Snooks! + </p> + <p> + Helen and Fanny were returning, there were civilities, and the young men + were receding. By a great effort she controlled herself to face the + enquiring eyes of her friends. All that afternoon she lived the life of a + heroine under the indescribable outrage of that name, chatting, observing, + with “Snooks” gnawing at her heart. From the moment that it first rang + upon her ears, the dream of her happiness was prostrate in the dust. All + the refinement she had figured was ruined and defaced by that cognomen's + unavoidable vulgarity. + </p> + <p> + What was that refined little home to her now, spite of autotypes, Morris + papers, and bureaus? Athwart it in letters of fire ran an incredible + inscription: “Mrs. Snooks.” That may seem a little thing to the reader, + but consider the delicate refinement of Miss Winchelsea's mind. Be as + refined as you can and then think of writing yourself down:—“Snooks.” + She conceived herself being addressed as Mrs. Snooks by all the people she + liked least, conceived the patronymic touched with a vague quality of + insult. She figured a card of grey and silver bearing “Winchelsea,” + triumphantly effaced by an arrow, Cupid's arrow, in favour of “Snooks.” + Degrading confession of feminine weakness! She imagined the terrible + rejoicings of certain girl friends, of certain grocer cousins from whom + her growing refinement had long since estranged her. How they would make + it sprawl across the envelope that would bring their sarcastic + congratulations. Would even his pleasant company compensate her for that? + “It is impossible,” she muttered; “impossible! SNOOKS!” + </p> + <p> + She was sorry for him, but not so sorry as she was for herself. For him + she had a touch of indignation. To be so nice, so refined, while all the + time he was “Snooks,” to hide under a pretentious gentility of demeanour + the badge sinister of his surname seemed a sort of treachery. To put it in + the language of sentimental science she felt he had “led her on.” + </p> + <p> + There were of course moments of terrible vacillation, a period even when + something almost like passion bid her throw refinement to the winds. And + there was something in her, an unexpurgated vestige of vulgarity, that + made a strenuous attempt at proving that Snooks was not so very bad a name + after all. Any hovering hesitation flew before Fanny's manner, when Fanny + came with an air of catastrophe to tell that she also knew the horror. + Fanny's voice fell to a whisper when she said SNOOKS. Miss Winchelsea + would not give him any answer when at last, in the Borghese, she could + have a minute with him; but she promised him a note. + </p> + <p> + She handed him that note in the little book of poetry he had lent her, the + little book that had first drawn them together. Her refusal was ambiguous, + allusive. She could no more tell him why she rejected him than she could + have told a cripple of his hump. He too must feel something of the + unspeakable quality of his name. Indeed he had avoided a dozen chances of + telling it, she now perceived. So she spoke of “obstacles she could not + reveal”—“reasons why the thing he spoke of was impossible.” She + addressed the note with a shiver, “E. K. Snooks.” + </p> + <p> + Things were worse than she had dreaded; he asked her to explain. How COULD + she explain? Those last two days in Rome were dreadful. She was haunted by + his air of astonished perplexity. She knew she had given him intimate + hopes, she had not the courage to examine her mind thoroughly for the + extent of her encouragement. She knew he must think her the most + changeable of beings. Now that she was in full retreat, she would not even + perceive his hints of a possible correspondence. But in that matter he did + a thing that seemed to her at once delicate and romantic. He made a + go-between of Fanny. Fanny could not keep the secret, and came and told + her that night under a transparent pretext of needed advice. “Mr. Snooks,” + said Fanny, “wants to write to me. Fancy! I had no idea. But should I let + him?” They talked it over long and earnestly, and Miss Winchelsea was + careful to keep the veil over her heart. She was already repenting his + disregarded hints. Why should she not hear of him sometimes—painful + though his name must be to her? Miss Winchelsea decided it might be + permitted, and Fanny kissed her good-night with unusual emotion. After she + had gone Miss Winchelsea sat for a long time at the window of her little + room. It was moonlight, and down the street a man sang “Santa Lucia” with + almost heart-dissolving tenderness.... She sat very still. + </p> + <p> + She breathed a word very softly to herself. The word was “SNOOKS.” Then + she got up with a profound sigh, and went to bed. The next morning he said + to her meaningly, “I shall hear of you through your friend.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Snooks saw them off from Rome with that pathetic interrogative + perplexity still on his face, and if it had not been for Helen he would + have retained Miss Winchelsea's hold-all in his hand as a sort of + encyclopaedic keepsake. On their way back to England Miss Winchelsea on + six separate occasions made Fanny promise to write to her the longest of + long letters. Fanny, it seemed, would be quite near Mr. Snooks. Her new + school—she was always going to new schools—would be only five + miles from Steely Bank, and it was in the Steely Bank Polytechnic, and one + or two first-class schools, that Mr. Snooks did his teaching. He might + even see her at times. They could not talk much of him—she and Fanny + always spoke of “him,” never of Mr. Snooks,—because Helen was apt to + say unsympathetic things about him. Her nature had coarsened very much, + Miss Winchelsea perceived, since the old Training College days; she had + become hard and cynical. She thought he had a weak face, mistaking + refinement for weakness as people of her stamp are apt to do, and when she + heard his name was Snooks, she said she had expected something of the + sort. Miss Winchelsea was careful to spare her own feelings after that, + but Fanny was less circumspect. + </p> + <p> + The girls parted in London, and Miss Winchelsea returned, with a new + interest in life, to the Girls' High School in which she had been an + increasingly valuable assistant for the last three years. Her new interest + in life was Fanny as a correspondent, and to give her a lead she wrote her + a lengthy descriptive letter within a fortnight of her return. Fanny + answered, very disappointingly. Fanny indeed had no literary gift, but it + was new to Miss Winchelsea to find herself deploring the want of gifts in + a friend. That letter was even criticised aloud in the safe solitude of + Miss Winchelsea's study, and her criticism, spoken with great bitterness, + was “Twaddle!” It was full of just the things Miss Winchelsea's letter had + been full of, particulars of the school. And of Mr. Snooks, only this + much: “I have had a letter from Mr. Snooks, and he has been over to see me + on two Saturday afternoons running. He talked about Rome and you; we both + talked about you. Your ears must have burnt, my dear....” + </p> + <p> + Miss Winchelsea repressed a desire to demand more explicit information, + and wrote the sweetest long letter again. “Tell me all about yourself, + dear. That journey has quite refreshed our ancient friendship, and I do so + want to keep in touch with you.” About Mr. Snooks she simply wrote on the + fifth page that she was glad Fanny had seen him, and that if he SHOULD ask + after her, she was to be remembered to him VERY KINDLY (underlined). And + Fanny replied most obtusely in the key of that “ancient friendship,” + reminding Miss Winchelsea of a dozen foolish things of those old + schoolgirl days at the training college, and saying not a word about Mr. + Snooks! + </p> + <p> + For nearly a week Miss Winchelsea was so angry at the failure of Fanny as + a go-between that she could not write to her. And then she wrote less + effusively, and in her letter she asked point-blank, “Have you seen Mr. + Snooks?” Fanny's letter was unexpectedly satisfactory. “I HAVE seen Mr. + Snooks,” she wrote, and having once named him she kept on about him; it + was all Snooks—Snooks this and Snooks that. He was to give a public + lecture, said Fanny, among other things. Yet Miss Winchelsea, after the + first glow of gratification, still found this letter a little + unsatisfactory. Fanny did not report Mr. Snooks as saying anything about + Miss Winchelsea, nor as looking a little white and worn, as he ought to + have been doing. And behold! before she had replied, came a second letter + from Fanny on the same theme, quite a gushing letter, and covering six + sheets with her loose feminine hand. + </p> + <p> + And about this second letter was a rather odd little thing that Miss + Winchelsea only noticed as she re-read it the third time. Fanny's natural + femininity had prevailed even against the round and clear traditions of + the training college; she was one of those she-creatures born to make all + her m's and n's and u's and r's and e's alike, and to leave her o's and + a's open and her i's undotted. So that it was only after an elaborate + comparison of word with word that Miss Winchelsea felt assured Mr. Snooks + was not really “Mr. Snooks” at all! In Fanny's first letter of gush he was + Mr. “Snooks,” in her second the spelling was changed to Mr. “Senoks.” Miss + Winchelsea's hand positively trembled as she turned the sheet over—it + meant so much to her. For it had already begun to seem to her that even + the name of Mrs. Snooks might be avoided at too great a price, and + suddenly—this possibility! She turned over the six sheets, all + dappled with that critical name, and everywhere the first letter had the + form of an E! For a time she walked the room with a hand pressed upon her + heart. + </p> + <p> + She spent a whole day pondering this change, weighing a letter of inquiry + that should be at once discreet and effectual, weighing too what action + she should take after the answer came. She was resolved that if this + altered spelling was anything more than a quaint fancy of Fanny's, she + would write forthwith to Mr. Snooks. She had now reached a stage when the + minor refinements of behaviour disappear. Her excuse remained uninvented, + but she had the subject of her letter clear in her mind, even to the hint + that “circumstances in my life have changed very greatly since we talked + together.” But she never gave that hint. There came a third letter from + that fitful correspondent Fanny. The first line proclaimed her “the + happiest girl alive.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Winchelsea crushed the letter in her hand—the rest unread—and + sat with her face suddenly very still. She had received it just before + morning school, and had opened it when the junior mathematicians were well + under way. Presently she resumed reading with an appearance of great calm. + But after the first sheet she went on reading the third without + discovering the error:—“told him frankly I did not like his name,” + the third sheet began. “He told me he did not like it himself—you + know that sort of sudden frank way he has”—Miss Winchelsea did know. + “So I said 'Couldn't you change it?' He didn't see it at first. Well, you + know, dear, he had told me what it really meant; it means Sevenoaks, only + it has got down to Snooks—both Snooks and Noaks, dreadfully vulgar + surnames though they be, are really worn forms of Sevenoaks. So I said—even + I have my bright ideas at times—'if it got down from Sevenoaks to + Snooks, why not get it back from Snooks to Sevenoaks?' And the long and + the short of it is, dear, he couldn't refuse me, and he changed his + spelling there and then to Senoks for the bills of the new lecture. And + afterwards, when we are married, we shall put in the apostrophe and make + it Se'noks. Wasn't it kind of him to mind that fancy of mine, when many + men would have taken offence? But it is just like him all over; he is as + kind as he is clever. Because he knew as well as I did that I would have + had him in spite of it, had he been ten times Snooks. But he did it all + the same.” + </p> + <p> + The class was startled by the sound of paper being viciously torn, and + looked up to see Miss Winchelsea white in the face, and with some very + small pieces of paper clenched in one hand. For a few seconds they stared + at her stare, and then her expression changed back to a more familiar one. + “Has any one finished number three?” she asked in an even tone. She + remained calm after that. But impositions ruled high that day. And she + spent two laborious evenings writing letters of various sorts to Fanny, + before she found a decent congratulatory vein. Her reason struggled + hopelessly against the persuasion that Fanny had behaved in an exceedingly + treacherous manner. + </p> + <p> + One may be extremely refined and still capable of a very sore heart. + Certainly Miss Winchelsea's heart was very sore. She had moods of sexual + hostility, in which she generalised uncharitably about mankind. “He forgot + himself with me,” she said. “But Fanny is pink and pretty and soft and a + fool—a very excellent match for a Man.” And by way of a wedding + present she sent Fanny a gracefully bound volume of poetry by George + Meredith, and Fanny wrote back a grossly happy letter to say that it was + “ALL beautiful.” Miss Winchelsea hoped that some day Mr. Senoks might take + up that slim book and think for a moment of the donor. Fanny wrote several + times before and about her marriage, pursuing that fond legend of their + “ancient friendship,” and giving her happiness in the fullest detail. And + Miss Winchelsea wrote to Helen for the first time after the Roman journey, + saying nothing about the marriage, but expressing very cordial feelings. + </p> + <p> + They had been in Rome at Easter, and Fanny was married in the August + vacation. She wrote a garrulous letter to Miss Winchelsea, describing her + home-coming, and the astonishing arrangements of their “teeny weeny” + little house. Mr. Se'noks was now beginning to assume a refinement in Miss + Winchelsea's memory out of all proportion to the facts of the case, and + she tried in vain to imagine his cultured greatness in a “teeny weeny” + little house. “Am busy enamelling a cosey corner,” said Fanny, sprawling + to the end of her third sheet, “so excuse more.” Miss Winchelsea answered + in her best style, gently poking fun at Fanny's arrangements and hoping + intensely that Mr. Sen'oks might see the letter. Only this hope enabled + her to write at all, answering not only that letter but one in November + and one at Christmas. + </p> + <p> + The two latter communications contained urgent invitations for her to come + to Steely Bank on a Visit during the Christmas holidays. She tried to + think that HE had told her to ask that, but it was too much like Fanny's + opulent good-nature. She could not but believe that he must be sick of his + blunder by this time; and she had more than a hope that he would presently + write her a letter beginning “Dear Friend.” Something subtly tragic in the + separation was a great support to her, a sad misunderstanding. To have + been jilted would have been intolerable. But he never wrote that letter + beginning “Dear Friend.” + </p> + <p> + For two years Miss Winchelsea could not go to see her friends, in spite of + the reiterated invitations of Mrs. Sevenoaks—it became full + Sevenoaks in the second year. Then one day near the Easter rest she felt + lonely and without a soul to understand her in the world, and her mind ran + once more on what is called Platonic friendship. Fanny was clearly happy + and busy in her new sphere of domesticity, but no doubt HE had his lonely + hours. Did he ever think of those days in Rome—gone now beyond + recalling? No one had understood her as he had done; no one in all the + world. It would be a sort of melancholy pleasure to talk to him again, and + what harm could it do? Why should she deny herself? That night she wrote a + sonnet, all but the last two lines of the octave—which would not + come, and the next day she composed a graceful little note to tell Fanny + she was coming down. + </p> + <p> + And so she saw him again. + </p> + <p> + Even at the first encounter it was evident he had changed; he seemed + stouter and less nervous, and it speedily appeared that his conversation + had already lost much of its old delicacy. There even seemed a + justification for Helen's description of weakness in his face—in + certain lights it WAS weak. He seemed busy and preoccupied about his + affairs, and almost under the impression that Miss Winchelsea had come for + the sake of Fanny. He discussed his dinner with Fanny in an intelligent + way. They only had one good long talk together, and that came to nothing. + He did not refer to Rome, and spent some time abusing a man who had stolen + an idea he had had for a text-book. It did not seem a very wonderful idea + to Miss Winchelsea. She discovered he had forgotten the names of more than + half the painters whose work they had rejoiced over in Florence. + </p> + <p> + It was a sadly disappointing week, and Miss Winchelsea was glad when it + came to an end. Under various excuses she avoided visiting them again. + After a time the visitor's room was occupied by their two little boys, and + Fanny's invitations ceased. The intimacy of her letters had long since + faded away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + 13. A DREAM OF ARMAGEDDON + </h2> + <p> + The man with the white face entered the carriage at Rugby. He moved slowly + in spite of the urgency of his porter, and even while he was still on the + platform I noted how ill he seemed. He dropped into the corner over + against me with a sigh, made an incomplete attempt to arrange his + travelling shawl, and became motionless, with his eyes staring vacantly. + Presently he was moved by a sense of my observation, looked up at me, and + put out a spiritless hand for his newspaper. Then he glanced again in my + direction. + </p> + <p> + I feigned to read. I feared I had unwittingly embarrassed him, and in a + moment I was surprised to find him speaking. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “That book,” he repeated, pointing a lean finger, “is about dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “Obviously,” I answered, for it was Fortnum-Roscoe's Dream States, and the + title was on the cover. He hung silent for a space as if he sought words. + “Yes,” he said at last, “but they tell you nothing.” I did not catch his + meaning for a second. + </p> + <p> + “They don't know,” he added. + </p> + <p> + I looked a little more attentively at his face. + </p> + <p> + “There are dreams,” he said, “and dreams.” + </p> + <p> + That sort of proposition I never dispute. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose—” he hesitated. “Do you ever dream? I mean vividly.” + </p> + <p> + “I dream very little,” I answered. “I doubt if I have three vivid dreams + in a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said, and seemed for a moment to collect his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Your dreams don't mix with your memories?” he asked abruptly. “You don't + find yourself in doubt; did this happen or did it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly ever. Except just for a momentary hesitation now and then. I + suppose few people do.” + </p> + <p> + “Does HE say—” he indicated the book. + </p> + <p> + “Says it happens at times and gives the usual explanation about intensity + of impression and the like to account for its not happening as a rule. I + suppose you know something of these theories—” + </p> + <p> + “Very little—except that they are wrong.” + </p> + <p> + His emaciated hand played with the strap of the window for a time. I + prepared to resume reading, and that seemed to precipitate his next + remark. He leant forward almost as though he would touch me. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there something called consecutive dreaming—that goes on + night after night?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe there is. There are cases given in most books on mental + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Mental trouble! Yes. I dare say there are. It's the right place for them. + But what I mean—” He looked at his bony knuckles. “Is that sort of + thing always dreaming? IS it dreaming? Or is it something else? Mightn't + it be something else?” + </p> + <p> + I should have snubbed his persistent conversation but for the drawn + anxiety of his face. I remember now the look of his faded eyes and the + lids red-stained—perhaps you know that look. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not just arguing about a matter of opinion,” he said. “The thing's + killing me.” + </p> + <p> + “Dreams?” + </p> + <p> + “If you call them dreams. Night after night. Vivid!—so vivid... this—” + (he indicated the landscape that went streaming by the window) “seems + unreal in comparison! I can scarcely remember who I am, what business I am + on....” + </p> + <p> + He paused. “Even now—” + </p> + <p> + “The dream is always the same—do you mean?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “It's over.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I died.” + </p> + <p> + “Died?” + </p> + <p> + “Smashed and killed, and now, so much of me as that dream was, is dead. + Dead for ever. I dreamt I was another man, you know, living in a different + part of the world and in a different time. I dreamt that night after + night. Night after night I woke into that other life. Fresh scenes and + fresh happenings—until I came upon the last—” + </p> + <p> + “When you died?” + </p> + <p> + “When I died.” + </p> + <p> + “And since then—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “Thank God! That was the end of the dream....” + </p> + <p> + It was clear I was in for this dream. And after all, I had an hour before + me, the light was fading fast, and Fortnum-Roscoe has a dreary way with + him. “Living in a different time,” I said: “do you mean in some different + age?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Past?” + </p> + <p> + “No, to come—to come.” + </p> + <p> + “The year three thousand, for example?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what year it was. I did when I was asleep, when I was + dreaming, that is, but not now—not now that I am awake. There's a + lot of things I have forgotten since I woke out of these dreams, though I + knew them at the time when I was—I suppose it was dreaming. They + called the year differently from our way of calling the year.... What DID + they call it?” He put his hand to his forehead. “No,” said he, “I forget.” + </p> + <p> + He sat smiling weakly. For a moment I feared he did not mean to tell me + his dream. As a rule I hate people who tell their dreams, but this struck + me differently. I proffered assistance even. “It began—” I + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “It was vivid from the first. I seemed to wake up in it suddenly. And it's + curious that in these dreams I am speaking of I never remembered this life + I am living now. It seemed as if the dream life was enough while it + lasted. Perhaps—But I will tell you how I find myself when I do my + best to recall it all. I don't remember anything dearly until I found + myself sitting in a sort of loggia looking out over the sea. I had been + dozing, and suddenly I woke up—fresh and vivid—not a bit + dream-like—because the girl had stopped fanning me.” + </p> + <p> + “The girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the girl. You must not interrupt or you will put me out.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped abruptly. “You won't think I'm mad?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” I answered; “you've been dreaming. Tell me your dream.” + </p> + <p> + “I woke up, I say, because the girl had stopped fanning me. I was not + surprised to find myself there or anything of that sort, you understand. I + did not feel I had fallen into it suddenly. I simply took it up at that + point. Whatever memory I had of THIS life, this nineteenth-century life, + faded as I woke, vanished like a dream. I knew all about myself, knew that + my name was no longer Cooper but Hedon, and all about my position in the + world. I've forgotten a lot since I woke—there's a want of + connection—but it was all quite clear and matter of fact then.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated again, gripping the window strap, putting his face forward + and looking up at me appealingly. + </p> + <p> + “This seems bosh to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” I cried. “Go on. Tell me what this loggia was like.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not really a loggia—I don't know what to call it. It faced + south. It was small. It was all in shadow except the semicircle above the + balcony that showed the sky and sea and the corner where the girl stood. I + was on a couch—it was a metal couch with light striped cushions-and + the girl was leaning over the balcony with her back to me. The light of + the sunrise fell on her ear and cheek. Her pretty white neck and the + little curls that nestled there, and her white shoulder were in the sun, + and all the grace of her body was in the cool blue shadow. She was dressed—how + can I describe it? It was easy and flowing. And altogether there she + stood, so that it came to me how beautiful and desirable she was, as + though I had never seen her before. And when at last I sighed and raised + myself upon my arm she turned her face to me—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. + </p> + <p> + “I have lived three-and-fifty years in this world. I have had mother, + sisters, friends, wife, and daughters—all their faces, the play of + their faces, I know. But the face of this girl—it is much more real + to me. I can bring it back into memory so that I see it again—I + could draw it or paint it. And after all—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped—but I said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “The face of a dream—the face of a dream. She was beautiful. Not + that beauty which is terrible, cold, and worshipful, like the beauty of a + saint; nor that beauty that stirs fierce passions; but a sort of + radiation, sweet lips that softened into smiles, and grave grey eyes. And + she moved gracefully, she seemed to have part with all pleasant and + gracious things—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and his face was downcast and hidden. Then he looked up at me + and went on, making no further attempt to disguise his absolute belief in + the reality of his story. + </p> + <p> + “You see, I had thrown up my plans and ambitions, thrown up all I had ever + worked for or desired for her sake. I had been a master man away there in + the north, with influence and property and a great reputation, but none of + it had seemed worth having beside her. I had come to the place, this city + of sunny pleasures, with her, and left all those things to wreck and ruin + just to save a remnant at least of my life. While I had been in love with + her before I knew that she had any care for me, before I had imagined that + she would dare—that we should dare, all my life had seemed vain and + hollow, dust and ashes. It WAS dust and ashes. Night after night and + through the long days I had longed and desired—my soul had beaten + against the thing forbidden! + </p> + <p> + “But it is impossible for one man to tell another just these things. It's + emotion, it's a tint, a light that comes and goes. Only while it's there, + everything changes, everything. The thing is I came away and left them in + their Crisis to do what they could.” + </p> + <p> + “Left whom?” I asked, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “The people up in the north there. You see—in this dream, anyhow—I + had been a big man, the sort of man men come to trust in, to group + themselves about. Millions of men who had never seen me were ready to do + things and risk things because of their confidence in me. I had been + playing that game for years, that big laborious game, that vague, + monstrous political game amidst intrigues and betrayals, speech and + agitation. It was a vast weltering world, and at last I had a sort of + leadership against the Gang—you know it was called the Gang—a + sort of compromise of scoundrelly projects and base ambitions and vast + public emotional stupidities and catchwords—the Gang that kept the + world noisy and blind year by year, and all the while that it was + drifting, drifting towards infinite disaster. But I can't expect you to + understand the shades and complications of the year—the year + something or other ahead. I had it all down to the smallest details—in + my dream. I suppose I had been dreaming of it before I awoke, and the + fading outline of some queer new development I had imagined still hung + about me as I rubbed my eyes. It was some grubby affair that made me thank + God for the sunlight. I sat up on the couch and remained looking at the + woman and rejoicing—rejoicing that I had come away out of all that + tumult and folly and violence before it was too late. After all, I + thought, this is life—love and beauty, desire and delight, are they + not worth all those dismal struggles for vague, gigantic ends? And I + blamed myself for having ever sought to be a leader when I might have + given my days to love. But then, thought I, if I had not spent my early + days sternly and austerely, I might have wasted myself upon vain and + worthless women, and at the thought all my being went out in love and + tenderness to my dear mistress, my dear lady, who had come at last and + compelled me—compelled me by her invincible charm for me—to + lay that life aside. + </p> + <p> + “'You are worth it,' I said, speaking without intending her to hear; 'you + are worth it, my dearest one; worth pride and praise and all things. Love! + to have YOU is worth them all together.' And at the murmur of my voice she + turned about. + </p> + <p> + “'Come and see,' she cried—I can hear her now—'come and see + the sunrise upon Monte Solaro.' + </p> + <p> + “I remember how I sprang to my feet and joined her at the balcony. She put + a white hand upon my shoulder and pointed towards great masses of + limestone, flushing, as it were, into life. I looked. But first I noted + the sunlight on her face caressing the lines of her cheeks and neck. How + can I describe to you the scene we had before us? We were at Capri—” + </p> + <p> + “I have been there,” I said. “I have clambered up Monte Solaro and drunk + vero Capri—muddy stuff like cider—at the summit.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the man with the white face; “then perhaps you can tell me—you + will know if this was indeed Capri. For in this life I have never been + there. Let me describe it. We were in a little room, one of a vast + multitude of little rooms, very cool and sunny, hollowed out of the + limestone of a sort of cape, very high above the sea. The whole island, + you know, was one enormous hotel, complex beyond explaining, and on the + other side there were miles of floating hotels, and huge floating stages + to which the flying machines came. They called it a pleasure city. Of + course, there was none of that in your time rather, I should say, IS none + of that NOW. Of course. Now!—yes. + </p> + <p> + “Well, this room of ours was at the extremity of the cape, so that one + could see east and west. Eastward was a great cliff—a thousand feet + high perhaps—coldly grey except for one bright edge of gold, and + beyond it the Isle of the Sirens, and a falling coast that faded and + passed into the hot sunrise. And when one turned to the west, distinct and + near was a little bay, a little beach still in shadow. And out of that + shadow rose Solaro straight and tall, flushed and golden crested, like a + beauty throned, and the white moon was floating behind her in the sky. And + before us from east to west stretched the many-tinted sea all dotted with + little sailing boats. + </p> + <p> + “To the eastward, of course, these little boats were grey and very minute + and clear, but to the westward they were little boats of gold—shining + gold—almost like little flames. And just below us was a rock with an + arch worn through it. The blue sea-water broke to green and foam all round + the rock, and a galley came gliding out of the arch.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that rock,” I said. “I was nearly drowned there. It is called the + Faraglioni.” + </p> + <p> + “I Faraglioni? Yes, she called it that,” answered the man with the white + face. “There was some story—but that—” + </p> + <p> + He put his hand to his forehead again. “No,” he said, “I forget that + story.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that is the first thing I remember, the first dream I had, that + little shaded room and the beautiful air and sky and that dear lady of + mine, with her shining arms and her graceful robe, and how we sat and + talked in half whispers to one another. We talked in whispers not because + there was any one to hear, but because there was still such a freshness of + mind between us that our thoughts were a little frightened, I think, to + find themselves at last in words. And so they went softly. + </p> + <p> + “Presently we were hungry and we went from our apartment, going by a + strange passage with a moving floor, until we came to the great breakfast + room—there was a fountain and music. A pleasant and joyful place it + was, with its sunlight and splashing, and the murmur of plucked strings. + And we sat and ate and smiled at one another, and I would not heed a man + who was watching me from a table near by. + </p> + <p> + “And afterwards we went on to the dancing-hall. But I cannot describe that + hall. The place was enormous—larger than any building you have ever + seen—and in one place there was the old gate of Capri, caught into + the wall of a gallery high overhead. Light girders, stems and threads of + gold, burst from the pillars like fountains, streamed like an Aurora + across the roof and interlaced, like—like conjuring tricks. All + about the great circle for the dancers there were beautiful figures, + strange dragons, and intricate and wonderful grotesques bearing lights. + The place was inundated with artificial light that shamed the newborn day. + And as we went through the throng the people turned about and looked at + us, for all through the world my name and face were known, and how I had + suddenly thrown up pride and struggle to come to this place. And they + looked also at the lady beside me, though half the story of how at last + she had come to me was unknown or mistold. And few of the men who were + there, I know, but judged me a happy man, in spite of all the shame and + dishonour that had come upon my name. + </p> + <p> + “The air was full of music, full of harmonious scents, full of the rhythm + of beautiful motions. Thousands of beautiful people swarmed about the + hall, crowded the galleries, sat in a myriad recesses; they were dressed + in splendid colours and crowned with flowers; thousands danced about the + great circle beneath the white images of the ancient gods, and glorious + processions of youths and maidens came and went. We two danced, not the + dreary monotonies of your days—of this time, I mean—but dances + that were beautiful, intoxicating. And even now I can see my lady dancing—dancing + joyously. She danced, you know, with a serious face; she danced with a + serious dignity, and yet she was smiling at me and caressing me—smiling + and caressing with her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The music was different,” he murmured. “It went—I cannot describe + it; but it was infinitely richer and more varied than any music that has + ever come to me awake. + </p> + <p> + “And then—it was when we had done dancing—a man came to speak + to me. He was a lean, resolute man, very soberly clad for that place, and + already I had marked his face watching me in the breakfasting hall, and + afterwards as we went along the passage I had avoided his eye. But now, as + we sat in a little alcove, smiling at the pleasure of all the people who + went to and fro across the shining floor, he came and touched me, and + spoke to me so that I was forced to listen. And he asked that he might + speak to me for a little time apart. + </p> + <p> + “'No,' I said. 'I have no secrets from this lady. What do you want to tell + me?' + </p> + <p> + “He said it was a trivial matter, or at least a dry matter, for a lady to + hear. + </p> + <p> + “'Perhaps for me to hear,' said I. + </p> + <p> + “He glanced at her, as though almost he would appeal to her. Then he asked + me suddenly if I had heard of a great and avenging declaration that + Evesham had made. Now, Evesham had always before been the man next to + myself in the leadership of that great party in the north. He was a + forcible, hard and tactless man, and only I had been able to control and + soften him. It was on his account even more than my own, I think, that the + others had been so dismayed at my retreat. So this question about what he + had done reawakened my old interest in the life I had put aside just for a + moment. + </p> + <p> + “'I have taken no heed of any news for many days,' I said. 'What has + Evesham been saying?' + </p> + <p> + “And with that the man began, nothing loath, and I must confess even I was + struck by Evesham's reckless folly in the wild and threatening words he + had used. And this messenger they had sent to me not only told me of + Evesham's speech, but went on to ask counsel and to point out what need + they had of me. While he talked, my lady sat a little forward and watched + his face and mine. + </p> + <p> + “My old habits of scheming and organising reasserted themselves. I could + even see myself suddenly returning to the north, and all the dramatic + effect of it. All that this man said witnessed to the disorder of the + party indeed, but not to its damage. I should go back stronger than I had + come. And then I thought of my lady. You see—how can I tell you? + There were certain peculiarities of our relationship—as things are I + need not tell you about that—which would render her presence with me + impossible. I should have had to leave her; indeed, I should have had to + renounce her clearly and openly, if I was to do all that I could do in the + north. And the man knew THAT, even as he talked to her and me, knew it as + well as she did, that my steps to duty were—first, separation, then + abandonment. At the touch of that thought my dream of a return was + shattered. I turned on the man suddenly, as he was imagining his eloquence + was gaining ground with me. + </p> + <p> + “'What have I to do with these things now?' I said. 'I have done with + them. Do you think I am coquetting with your people in coming here?' + </p> + <p> + “'No,' he said; 'but—' + </p> + <p> + “'Why cannot you leave me alone? I have done with these things. I have + ceased to be anything but a private man.' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' he answered. 'But have you thought?—this talk of war, these + reckless challenges, these wild aggressions—' + </p> + <p> + “I stood up. + </p> + <p> + “'No,' I cried. 'I won't hear you. I took count of all those things, I + weighed them—and I have come away.' + </p> + <p> + “He seemed to consider the possibility of persistence. He looked from me + to where the lady sat regarding us. + </p> + <p> + “'War,' he said, as if he were speaking to himself, and then turned slowly + from me and walked away. I stood, caught in the whirl of thoughts his + appeal had set going. + </p> + <p> + “I heard my lady's voice. + </p> + <p> + “'Dear,' she said; 'but if they have need of you—' + </p> + <p> + “She did not finish her sentence, she let it rest there. I turned to her + sweet face, and the balance of my mood swayed and reeled. + </p> + <p> + “'They want me only to do the thing they dare not do themselves,' I said. + 'If they distrust Evesham they must settle with him themselves.' + </p> + <p> + “She looked at me doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “'But war—' she said. + </p> + <p> + “I saw a doubt on her face that I had seen before, a doubt of herself and + me, the first shadow of the discovery that, seen strongly and completely, + must drive us apart for ever. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I was an older mind than hers, and I could sway her to this belief + or that. + </p> + <p> + “'My dear one,' I said, 'you must not trouble over these things. There + will be no war. Certainly there will be no war. The age of wars is past. + Trust me to know the justice of this case. They have no right upon me, + dearest, and no one has a right upon me. I have been free to choose my + life, and I have chosen this.' + </p> + <p> + “'But WAR—' she said. + </p> + <p> + “I sat down beside her. I put an arm behind her and took her hand in mine. + I set myself to drive that doubt away—I set myself to fill her mind + with pleasant things again. I lied to her, and in lying to her I lied also + to myself. And she was only too ready to believe me, only too ready to + forget. + </p> + <p> + “Very soon the shadow had gone again, and we were hastening to our + bathing-place in the Grotta del Bovo Marino, where it was our custom to + bathe every day. We swam and splashed one another, and in that buoyant + water I seemed to become something lighter and stronger than a man. And at + last we came out dripping and rejoicing and raced among the rocks. And + then I put on a dry bathing-dress, and we sat to bask in the sun, and + presently I nodded, resting my head against her knee, and she put her hand + upon my hair and stroked it softly and I dozed. And behold! as it were + with the snapping of the string of a violin, I was awakening, and I was in + my own bed in Liverpool, in the life of to-day. + </p> + <p> + “Only for a time I could not believe that all these vivid moments had been + no more than the substance of a dream. + </p> + <p> + “In truth, I could not believe it a dream for all the sobering reality of + things about me. I bathed and dressed as it were by habit, and as I shaved + I argued why I of all men should leave the woman I loved to go back to + fantastic politics in the hard and strenuous north. Even if Evesham did + force the world back to war, what was that to me? I was a man, with the + heart of a man, and why should I feel the responsibility of a deity for + the way the world might go? + </p> + <p> + “You know that is not quite the way I think about affairs, about my real + affairs. I am a solicitor, you know, with a point of view. + </p> + <p> + “The vision was so real, you must understand, so utterly unlike a dream + that I kept perpetually recalling little irrelevant details; even the + ornament of a book-cover that lay on my wife's sewing-machine in the + breakfast-room recalled with the utmost vividness the gilt line that ran + about the seat in the alcove where I had talked with the messenger from my + deserted party. Have you ever heard of a dream that had a quality like + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Like—?” + </p> + <p> + “So that afterwards you remembered little details you had forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + I thought. I had never noticed the point before, but he was right. + </p> + <p> + “Never,” I said. “That is what you never seem to do with dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered. “But that is just what I did. I am a solicitor, you + must understand, in Liverpool, and I could not help wondering what the + clients and business people I found myself talking to in my office would + think if I told them suddenly I was in love with a girl who would be born + a couple of hundred years or so hence, and worried about the politics of + my great-great-great-grandchildren. I was chiefly busy that day + negotiating a ninety-nine-year building lease. It was a private builder in + a hurry, and we wanted to tie him in every possible way. I had an + interview with him, and he showed a certain want of temper that sent me to + bed still irritated. That night I had no dream. Nor did I dream the next + night, at least, to remember. + </p> + <p> + “Something of that intense reality of conviction vanished. I began to feel + sure it WAS a dream. And then it came again. + </p> + <p> + “When the dream came again, nearly four days later, it was very different. + I think it certain that four days had also elapsed in the dream. Many + things had happened in the north, and the shadow of them was back again + between us, and this time it was not so easily dispelled. I began, I know, + with moody musings. Why, in spite of all, should I go back, go back for + all the rest of my days to toil and stress, insults and perpetual + dissatisfaction, simply to save hundreds of millions of common people, + whom I did not love, whom too often I could do no other than despise, from + the stress and anguish of war and infinite misrule? And after all I might + fail. THEY all sought their own narrow ends, and why should not I—why + should not I also live as a man? And out of such thoughts her voice + summoned me, and I lifted my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I found myself awake and walking. We had come out above the Pleasure + City, we were near the summit of Monte Solaro and looking towards the bay. + It was the late afternoon and very clear. Far away to the left Ischia hung + in a golden haze between sea and sky, and Naples was coldly white against + the hills, and before us was Vesuvius with a tall and slender streamer + feathering at last towards the south, and the ruins of Torre dell' + Annunziata and Castellamare glittering and near.” + </p> + <p> + I interrupted suddenly: “You have been to Capri, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Only in this dream,” he said, “only in this dream. All across the bay + beyond Sorrento were the floating palaces of the Pleasure City moored and + chained. And northward were the broad floating stages that received the + aeroplanes. Aeroplanes fell out of the sky every afternoon, each bringing + its thousands of pleasure-seekers from the uttermost parts of the earth to + Capri and its delights. All these things, I say, stretched below. + </p> + <p> + “But we noticed them only incidentally because of an unusual sight that + evening had to show. Five war aeroplanes that had long slumbered useless + in the distant arsenals of the Rhinemouth were manoeuvring now in the + eastward sky. Evesham had astonished the world by producing them and + others, and sending them to circle here and there. It was the threat + material in the great game of bluff he was playing, and it had taken even + me by surprise. He was one of those incredibly stupid energetic people who + seem sent by Heaven to create disasters. His energy to the first glance + seemed so wonderfully like capacity! But he had no imagination, no + invention, only a stupid, vast, driving force of will, and a mad faith in + his stupid idiot 'luck' to pull him through. I remember how we stood out + upon the headland watching the squadron circling far away, and how I + weighed the full meaning of the sight, seeing clearly the way things must + go. And then even it was not too late. I might have gone back, I think, + and saved the world. The people of the north would follow me, I knew, + granted only that in one thing I respected their moral standards. The east + and south would trust me as they would trust no other northern man. And I + knew I had only to put it to her and she would have let me go.... Not + because she did not love me! + </p> + <p> + “Only I did not want to go; my will was all the other way about. I had so + newly thrown off the incubus of responsibility: I was still so fresh a + renegade from duty that the daylight clearness of what I OUGHT to do had + no power at all to touch my will. My will was to live, to gather pleasures + and make my dear lady happy. But though this sense of vast neglected + duties had no power to draw me, it could make me silent and preoccupied, + it robbed the days I had spent of half their brightness and roused me into + dark meditations in the silence of the night. And as I stood and watched + Evesham's aeroplanes sweep to and fro—those birds of infinite ill + omen—she stood beside me watching me, perceiving the trouble indeed, + but not perceiving it clearly her eyes questioning my face, her expression + shaded with perplexity. Her face was grey because the sunset was fading + out of the sky. It was no fault of hers that she held me. She had asked me + to go from her, and again in the night time and with tears she had asked + me to go. + </p> + <p> + “At last it was the sense of her that roused me from my mood. I turned + upon her suddenly and challenged her to race down the mountain slopes. + 'No,' she said, as if I jarred with her gravity, but I was resolved to end + that gravity, and made her run—no one can be very grey and sad who + is out of breath—and when she stumbled I ran with my hand beneath + her arm. We ran down past a couple of men, who turned back staring in + astonishment at my behaviour—they must have recognised my face. And + halfway down the slope came a tumult in the air, clang-clank, clang-clank, + and we stopped, and presently over the hill-crest those war things came + flying one behind the other.” + </p> + <p> + The man seemed hesitating on the verge of a description. + </p> + <p> + “What were they like?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “They had never fought,” he said. “They were just like our ironclads are + nowadays; they had never fought. No one knew what they might do, with + excited men inside them; few even cared to speculate. They were great + driving things shaped like spearheads without a shaft, with a propeller in + the place of the shaft.” + </p> + <p> + “Steel?” + </p> + <p> + “Not steel.” + </p> + <p> + “Aluminium?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, nothing of that sort. An alloy that was very common—as + common as brass, for example. It was called—let me see—.” He + squeezed his forehead with the fingers of one hand. “I am forgetting + everything,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And they carried guns?” + </p> + <p> + “Little guns, firing high explosive shells. They fired the guns backwards, + out of the base of the leaf, so to speak, and rammed with the beak. That + was the theory, you know, but they had never been fought. No one could + tell exactly what was going to happen. And meanwhile I suppose it was very + fine to go whirling through the air like a flight of young swallows, swift + and easy. I guess the captains tried not to think too clearly what the + real thing would be like. And these flying war machines, you know, were + only one sort of the endless war contrivances that had been invented and + had fallen into abeyance during the long peace. There were all sorts of + these things that people were routing out and furbishing up; infernal + things, silly things; things that had never been tried; big engines, + terrible explosives, great guns. You know the silly way of these ingenious + sort of men who make these things; they turn 'em out as beavers build + dams, and with no more sense of the rivers they're going to divert and the + lands they're going to flood! + </p> + <p> + “As we went down the winding stepway to our hotel again, in the twilight, + I foresaw it all: I saw how clearly and inevitably things were driving for + war in Evesham's silly, violent hands, and I had some inkling of what war + was bound to be under these new conditions. And even then, though I knew + it was drawing near the limit of my opportunity, I could find no will to + go back.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed. + </p> + <p> + “That was my last chance. + </p> + <p> + “We didn't go into the city until the sky was full of stars, so we walked + out upon the high terrace, to and fro, and—she counselled me to go + back. + </p> + <p> + “'My dearest,' she said, and her sweet face looked up to me, 'this is + Death. This life you lead is Death. Go back to them, go back to your duty—.' + </p> + <p> + “She began to weep, saying, between her sobs, and clinging to my arm as + she said it, 'Go back—Go back.' + </p> + <p> + “Then suddenly she fell mute, and, glancing down at her face, I read in an + instant the thing she had thought to do. It was one of those moments when + one SEES. + </p> + <p> + “'No!' I said. + </p> + <p> + “'No?' she asked, in surprise, and I think a little fearful at the answer + to her thought. + </p> + <p> + “'Nothing,' I said, 'shall send me back. Nothing! I have chosen. Love, I + have chosen, and the world must go. Whatever happens I will live this life—I + will live for YOU! It—nothing shall turn me aside; nothing, my dear + one. Even if you died—even if you died—' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' she murmured, softly. + </p> + <p> + “'Then—I also would die.' + </p> + <p> + “And before she could speak again I began to talk, talking eloquently—as + I COULD do in that life—talking to exalt love, to make the life we + were living seem heroic and glorious; and the thing I was deserting + something hard and enormously ignoble that it was a fine thing to set + aside. I bent all my mind to throw that glamour upon it, seeking not only + to convert her but myself to that. We talked, and she clung to me, torn + too between all that she deemed noble and all that she knew was sweet. And + at last I did make it heroic, made all the thickening disaster of the + world only a sort of glorious setting to our unparalleled love, and we two + poor foolish souls strutted there at last, clad in that splendid delusion, + drunken rather with that glorious delusion, under the still stars. + </p> + <p> + “And so my moment passed. + </p> + <p> + “It was my last chance. Even as we went to and fro there, the leaders of + the south and east were gathering their resolve, and the hot answer that + shattered Evesham's bluffing for ever, took shape and waited. And all over + Asia, and the ocean, and the south, the air and the wires were throbbing + with their warnings to prepare—prepare. + </p> + <p> + “No one living, you know, knew what war was; no one could imagine, with + all these new inventions, what horror war might bring. I believe most + people still believed it would be a matter of bright uniforms and shouting + charges and triumphs and flags and bands—in a time when half the + world drew its food supply from regions ten thousand miles away—.” + </p> + <p> + The man with the white face paused. I glanced at him, and his face was + intent on the floor of the carriage. A little railway station, a string of + loaded trucks, a signal-box, and the back of a cottage, shot by the + carriage window, and a bridge passed with a clap of noise, echoing the + tumult of the train. + </p> + <p> + “After that,” he said, “I dreamt often. For three weeks of nights that + dream was my life. And the worst of it was there were nights when I could + not dream, when I lay tossing on a bed in THIS accursed life; and THERE—somewhere + lost to me—things were happening—momentous, terrible + things.... I lived at nights—my days, my waking days, this life I am + living now, became a faded, far-away dream, a drab setting, the cover of + the book.” + </p> + <p> + He thought. + </p> + <p> + “I could tell you all, tell you every little thing in the dream, but as to + what I did in the daytime—no. I could not tell—I do not + remember. My memory—my memory has gone. The business of life slips + from me—” + </p> + <p> + He leant forward, and pressed his hands upon his eyes. For a long time he + said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “And then?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “The war burst like a hurricane.” + </p> + <p> + He stared before him at unspeakable things. + </p> + <p> + “And then?” I urged again. + </p> + <p> + “One touch of unreality,” he said, in the low tone of a man who speaks to + himself, “and they would have been nightmares. But they were not + nightmares—they were not nightmares. NO!” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for so long that it dawned upon me that there was a danger + of losing the rest of the story. But he went on talking again in the same + tone of questioning self-communion. + </p> + <p> + “What was there to do but flight? I had not thought the war would touch + Capri—I had seemed to see Capri as being out of it all, as the + contrast to it all; but two nights after the whole place was shouting and + bawling, every woman almost and every other man wore a badge—Evesham's + badge—and there was no music but a jangling war-song over and over + again, and everywhere men enlisting, and in the dancing halls they were + drilling. The whole island was awhirl with rumours; it was said, again and + again, that fighting had begun. I had not expected this. I had seen so + little of the life of pleasure that I had failed to reckon with this + violence of the amateurs. And as for me, I was out of it. I was like a man + who might have prevented the firing of a magazine. The time had gone. I + was no one; the vainest stripling with a badge counted for more than I. + The crowd jostled us and bawled in our ears; that accursed song deafened + us; a woman shrieked at my lady because no badge was on her, and we two + went back to our own place again, ruffled and insulted—my lady white + and silent, and I aquiver with rage. So furious was I, I could have + quarrelled with her if I could have found one shade of accusation in her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “All my magnificence had gone from me. I walked up and down our rock cell, + and outside was the darkling sea and a light to the southward that flared + and passed and came again. + </p> + <p> + “'We must get out of this place,' I said over and over. 'I have made my + choice, and I will have no hand in these troubles. I will have nothing of + this war. We have taken our lives out of all these things. This is no + refuge for us. Let us go.' + </p> + <p> + “And the next day we were already in flight from the war that covered the + world. + </p> + <p> + “And all the rest was Flight—all the rest was Flight.” + </p> + <p> + He mused darkly. + </p> + <p> + “How much was there of it?” + </p> + <p> + He made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “How many days?” + </p> + <p> + His face was white and drawn and his hands were clenched. He took no heed + of my curiosity. + </p> + <p> + I tried to draw him back to his story with questions. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you go?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “When you left Capri.” + </p> + <p> + “Southwest,” he said, and glanced at me for a second. “We went in a boat.” + </p> + <p> + “But I should have thought an aeroplane?” + </p> + <p> + “They had been seized.” + </p> + <p> + I questioned him no more. Presently I thought he was beginning again. He + broke out in an argumentative monotone: + </p> + <p> + “But why should it be? If, indeed, this battle, this slaughter and stress + IS life, why have we this craving for pleasure and beauty? If there IS no + refuge, if there is no place of peace, and if all our dreams of quiet + places are a folly and a snare, why have we such dreams? Surely it was no + ignoble cravings, no base intentions, had brought us to this; it was Love + had isolated us. Love had come to me with her eyes and robed in her + beauty, more glorious than all else in life, in the very shape and colour + of life, and summoned me away. I had silenced all the voices, I had + answered all the questions—I had come to her. And suddenly there was + nothing but War and Death!” + </p> + <p> + I had an inspiration. “After all,” I said, “it could have been only a + dream.” + </p> + <p> + “A dream!” he cried, flaming upon me, “a dream—when even now—” + </p> + <p> + For the first time he became animated. A faint flush crept into his cheek. + He raised his open hand and clenched it, and dropped it to his knee. He + spoke, looking away from me, and for all the rest of the time he looked + away. “We are but phantoms,” he said, “and the phantoms of phantoms, + desires like cloud shadows and wills of straw that eddy in the wind; the + days pass, use and wont carry us through as a train carries the shadow of + its lights, so be it! But one thing is real and certain, one thing is no + dreamstuff, but eternal and enduring. It is the centre of my life, and all + other things about it are subordinate or altogether vain. I loved her, + that woman of a dream. And she and I are dead together! + </p> + <p> + “A dream! How can it be a dream, when it drenched a living life with + unappeasable sorrow, when it makes all that I have lived for and cared + for, worthless and unmeaning? + </p> + <p> + “Until that very moment when she was killed I believed we had still a + chance of getting away,” he said. “All through the night and morning that + we sailed across the sea from Capri to Salerno, we talked of escape. We + were full of hope, and it clung about us to the end, hope for the life + together we should lead, out of it all, out of the battle and struggle, + the wild and empty passions, the empty arbitrary 'thou shalt' and 'thou + shalt not' of the world. We were uplifted, as though our quest was a holy + thing, as though love for one another was a mission.... + </p> + <p> + “Even when from our boat we saw the fair face of that great rock Capri—already + scarred and gashed by the gun emplacements and hiding-places that were to + make it a fastness—we reckoned nothing of the imminent slaughter, + though the fury of preparation hung about in puffs and clouds of dust at a + hundred points amidst the grey; but, indeed, I made a text of that and + talked. There, you know, was the rock, still beautiful, for all its scars, + with its countless windows and arches and ways, tier upon tier, for a + thousand feet, a vast carving of grey, broken by vine-clad terraces, and + lemon and orange groves, and masses of agave and prickly pear, and puffs + of almond blossom. And out under the archway that is built over the + Piccola Marina other boats were coming; and as we came round the cape and + within sight of the mainland, another little string of boats came into + view, driving before the wind towards the southwest. In a little while a + multitude had come out, the remoter just little specks of ultramarine in + the shadow of the eastward cliff. + </p> + <p> + “'It is love and reason,' I said, 'fleeing from all this madness, of war.' + </p> + <p> + “And though we presently saw a squadron of aeroplanes flying across the + southern sky we did not heed it. There it was—a line of little dots + in the sky—and then more, dotting the southeastern horizon, and then + still more, until all that quarter of the sky was stippled with blue + specks. Now they were all thin little strokes of blue, and now one and now + a multitude would heel and catch the sun and become short flashes of + light. They came rising and falling and growing larger, like some huge + flight of gulls or rooks, or such-like birds moving with a marvellous + uniformity, and ever as they drew nearer they spread over a greater width + of sky. The southward wing flung itself in an arrow-headed cloud athwart + the sun. And then suddenly they swept round to the eastward and streamed + eastward, growing smaller and smaller and clearer and clearer again until + they vanished from the sky. And after that we noted to the northward and + very high Evesham's fighting machines hanging high over Naples like an + evening swarm of gnats. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed to have no more to do with us than a flight of birds. + </p> + <p> + “Even the mutter of guns far away in the southeast seemed to us to signify + nothing.... + </p> + <p> + “Each day, each dream after that, we were still exalted, still seeking + that refuge where we might live and love. Fatigue had come upon us, pain + and many distresses. For though we were dusty and stained by our toilsome + tramping, and half starved and with the horror of the dead men we had seen + and the flight of the peasants—for very soon a gust of fighting + swept up the peninsula—with these things haunting our minds it still + resulted only in a deepening resolution to escape. O, but she was brave + and patient! She who had never faced hardship and exposure had courage for + herself—and me. We went to and fro seeking an outlet, over a country + all commandeered and ransacked by the gathering hosts of war. Always we + went on foot. At first there were other fugitives, but we did not mingle + with them. Some escaped northward, some were caught in the torrent of + peasantry that swept along the main roads; many gave themselves into the + hands of the soldiery and were sent northward. Many of the men were + impressed. But we kept away from these things; we had brought no money to + bribe a passage north, and I feared for my lady at the hands of these + conscript crowds. We had landed at Salerno, and we had been turned back + from Cava, and we had tried to cross towards Taranto by a pass over Mount + Alburno, but we had been driven back for want of food, and so we had come + down among the marshes by Paestum, where those great temples stand alone. + I had some vague idea that by Paestum it might be possible to find a boat + or something, and take once more to sea. And there it was the battle + overtook us. + </p> + <p> + “A sort of soul-blindness had me. Plainly I could see that we were being + hemmed in; that the great net of that giant Warfare had us in its toils. + Many times we had seen the levies that had come down from the north going + to and fro, and had come upon them in the distance amidst the mountains + making ways for the ammunition and preparing the mounting of the guns. + Once we fancied they had fired at us, taking us for spies—at any + rate a shot had gone shuddering over us. Several times we had hidden in + woods from hovering aeroplanes. + </p> + <p> + “But all these things do not matter now, these nights of flight and + pain.... We were in an open place near those great temples at Paestum, at + last, on a blank stony place dotted with spiky bushes, empty and desolate + and so flat that a grove of eucalyptus far away showed to the feet of its + stems. How I can see it! My lady was sitting down under a bush, resting a + little, for she was very weak and weary, and I was standing up watching to + see if I could tell the distance of the firing that came and went. They + were still, you know, fighting far from each other, with those terrible + new weapons that had never before been used: guns that would carry beyond + sight, and aeroplanes that would do—What THEY would do no man could + foretell. + </p> + <p> + “I knew that we were between the two armies, and that they drew together. + I knew we were in danger, and that we could not stop there and rest! + </p> + <p> + “Though all these things were in my mind, they were in the background. + They seemed to be affairs beyond our concern. Chiefly, I was thinking of + my lady. An aching distress filled me. For the first time she had owned + herself beaten and had fallen a-weeping. Behind me I could hear her + sobbing, but I would not turn round to her because I knew she had need of + weeping, and had held herself so far and so long for me. It was well, I + thought, that she would weep and rest and then we would toil on again, for + I had no inkling of the thing that hung so near. Even now I can see her as + she sat there, her lovely hair upon her shoulder, can mark again the + deepening hollow of her cheek. + </p> + <p> + “'If we had parted,' she said, 'if I had let you go.' + </p> + <p> + “'No,' said I. 'Even now, I do not repent. I will not repent; I made my + choice, and I will hold on to the end.” + </p> + <p> + “And then— + </p> + <p> + “Overhead in the sky something flashed and burst, and all about us I heard + the bullets making a noise like a handful of peas suddenly thrown. They + chipped the stones about us, and whirled fragments from the bricks and + passed....” + </p> + <p> + He put his hand to his mouth, and then moistened his lips. + </p> + <p> + “At the flash I had turned about.... + </p> + <p> + “You know—she stood up— + </p> + <p> + “She stood up; you know, and moved a step towards me— + </p> + <p> + “As though she wanted to reach me— + </p> + <p> + “And she had been shot through the heart.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and stared at me. I felt all that foolish incapacity an + Englishman feels on such occasions. I met his eyes for a moment, and then + stared out of the window. For a long space we kept silence. When at last I + looked at him he was sitting back in his corner, his arms folded, and his + teeth gnawing at his knuckles. + </p> + <p> + He bit his nail suddenly, and stared at it. + </p> + <p> + “I carried her,” he said, “towards the temples, in my arms—as though + it mattered. I don't know why. They seemed a sort of sanctuary, you know, + they had lasted so long, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + “She must have died almost instantly. Only—I talked to her—all + the way.” + </p> + <p> + Silence again. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen those temples,” I said abruptly, and indeed he had brought + those still, sunlit arcades of worn sandstone very vividly before me. + </p> + <p> + “It was the brown one, the big brown one. I sat down on a fallen pillar + and held her in my arms.... Silent after the first babble was over. And + after a little while the lizards came out and ran about again, as though + nothing unusual was going on, as though nothing had changed.... It was + tremendously still there, the sun high, and the shadows still; even the + shadows of the weeds upon the entablature were still—in spite of the + thudding and banging that went all about the sky. + </p> + <p> + “I seem to remember that the aeroplanes came up out of the south, and that + the battle went away to the west. One aeroplane was struck, and overset + and fell. I remember that—though it didn't interest me in the least. + It didn't seem to signify. It was like a wounded gull, you know—flapping + for a time in the water. I could see it down the aisle of the temple—a + black thing in the bright blue water. + </p> + <p> + “Three or four times shells burst about the beach, and then that ceased. + Each time that happened all the lizards scuttled in and hid for a space. + That was all the mischief done, except that once a stray bullet gashed the + stone hard by—made just a fresh bright surface. + </p> + <p> + “As the shadows grew longer, the stillness seemed greater. + </p> + <p> + “The curious thing,” he remarked, with the manner of a man who makes a + trivial conversation, “is that I didn't THINK—I didn't think at all. + I sat with her in my arms amidst the stones—in a sort of lethargy—stagnant. + </p> + <p> + “And I don't remember waking up. I don't remember dressing that day. I + know I found myself in my office, with my letters all slit open in front + of me, and how I was struck by the absurdity of being there, seeing that + in reality I was sitting, stunned, in that Paestum temple with a dead + woman in my arms. I read my letters like a machine. I have forgotten what + they were about.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and there was a long silence. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly I perceived that we were running down the incline from Chalk Farm + to Euston. I started at this passing of time. I turned on him with a + brutal question, with the tone of Now or never. + </p> + <p> + “And did you dream again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to force himself to finish. His voice was very low. + </p> + <p> + “Once more, and as it were only for a few instants. I seemed to have + suddenly awakened out of a great apathy, to have risen into a sitting + position, and the body lay there on the stones beside me. A gaunt body. + Not her, you know. So soon—it was not her.... + </p> + <p> + “I may have heard voices. I do not know. Only I knew clearly that men were + coming into the solitude and that that was a last outrage. + </p> + <p> + “I stood up and walked through the temple, and then there came into sight—first + one man with a yellow face, dressed in a uniform of dirty white, trimmed + with blue, and then several, climbing to the crest of the old wall of the + vanished city, and crouching there. They were little bright figures in the + sunlight, and there they hung, weapon in hand, peering cautiously before + them. + </p> + <p> + “And further away I saw others and then more at another point in the wall. + It was a long lax line of men in open order. + </p> + <p> + “Presently the man I had first seen stood up and shouted a command, and + his men came tumbling down the wall and into the high weeds towards the + temple. He scrambled down with them and led them. He came facing towards + me, and when he saw me he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “At first I had watched these men with a mere curiosity, but when I had + seen they meant to come to the temple I was moved to forbid them. I + shouted to the officer. + </p> + <p> + “'You must not come here,' I cried, '<i>I</i> am here. I am here with my + dead.' + </p> + <p> + “He stared, and then shouted a question back to me in some unknown tongue. + </p> + <p> + “I repeated what I had said. + </p> + <p> + “He shouted again, and I folded my arms and stood still. Presently he + spoke to his men and came forward. He carried a drawn sword. + </p> + <p> + “I signed to him to keep away, but he continued to advance. I told him + again very patiently and clearly: 'You must not come here. These are old + temples and I am here with my dead.' + </p> + <p> + “Presently he was so close I could see his face clearly. It was a narrow + face, with dull grey eyes, and a black moustache. He had a scar on his + upper lip, and he was dirty and unshaven. He kept shouting unintelligible + things, questions perhaps, at me. + </p> + <p> + “I know now that he was afraid of me, but at the time that did not occur + to me. As I tried to explain to him he interrupted me in imperious tones, + bidding me, I suppose, stand aside. + </p> + <p> + “He made to go past me, And I caught hold of him. + </p> + <p> + “I saw his face change at my grip. + </p> + <p> + “'You fool,' I cried. 'Don't you know? She is dead!' + </p> + <p> + “He started back. He looked at me with cruel eyes. I saw a sort of + exultant resolve leap into them—delight. Then, suddenly, with a + scowl, he swept his sword back—SO—and thrust.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped abruptly. I became aware of a change in the rhythm of the + train. The brakes lifted their voices and the carriage jarred and jerked. + This present world insisted upon itself, became clamorous. I saw through + the steamy window huge electric lights glaring down from tall masts upon a + fog, saw rows of stationary empty carriages passing by, and then a + signal-box, hoisting its constellation of green and red into the murky + London twilight marched after them. I looked again at his drawn features. + </p> + <p> + “He ran me through the heart. It was with a sort of astonishment—no + fear, no pain—but just amazement, that I felt it pierce me, felt the + sword drive home into my body. It didn't hurt, you know. It didn't hurt at + all.” + </p> + <p> + The yellow platform lights came into the field of view, passing first + rapidly, then slowly, and at last stopping with a jerk. Dim shapes of men + passed to and fro without. + </p> + <p> + “Euston!” cried a voice. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean—?” + </p> + <p> + “There was no pain, no sting or smart. Amazement and then darkness + sweeping over everything. The hot, brutal face before me, the face of the + man who had killed me, seemed to recede. It swept out of existence—” + </p> + <p> + “Euston!” clamoured the voices outside; “Euston!” + </p> + <p> + The carriage door opened, admitting a flood of sound, and a porter stood + regarding us. The sounds of doors slamming, and the hoof-clatter of + cab-horses, and behind these things the featureless remote roar of the + London cobble-stones, came to my ears. A truckload of lighted lamps blazed + along the platform. + </p> + <p> + “A darkness, a flood of darkness that opened and spread and blotted out + all things.” + </p> + <p> + “Any luggage, sir?” said the porter. + </p> + <p> + “And that was the end?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to hesitate. Then, almost inaudibly, he answered, “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't get to her. She was there on the other side of the Temple—And + then—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I insisted. “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Nightmares,” he cried; “nightmares indeed! My God! Great birds that + fought and tore.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Twelve Stories and a Dream, by H. G. 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