diff options
Diffstat (limited to '40168-h/40168-h.html')
| -rw-r--r-- | 40168-h/40168-h.html | 12325 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 12325 deletions
diff --git a/40168-h/40168-h.html b/40168-h/40168-h.html deleted file mode 100644 index 830a43b..0000000 --- a/40168-h/40168-h.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12325 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?> -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC '-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN' 'http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd'> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> -<meta name="generator" content="Docutils 0.8.1: http://docutils.sourceforge.net/" /> -<style type="text/css"> -/* -Project Gutenberg common docutils stylesheet. - -This stylesheet contains styles common to HTML and EPUB. Put styles -that are specific to HTML and EPUB into their relative stylesheets. - -:Author: Marcello Perathoner (webmaster@gutenberg.org) -:Copyright: This stylesheet has been placed in the public domain. - -This stylesheet is based on: - - :Author: David Goodger (goodger@python.org) - :Copyright: This stylesheet has been placed in the public domain. - - Default cascading style sheet for the HTML output of Docutils. - -*/ - -/* ADE 1.7.2 chokes on !important and throws all css out. */ - -/* FONTS */ - -.italics { font-style: italic } -.no-italics { font-style: normal } - -.bold { font-weight: bold } -.no-bold { font-weight: normal } - -.small-caps { } /* Epub needs italics */ -.gesperrt { } /* Epub needs italics */ -.antiqua { font-style: italic } /* what else can we do ? */ -.monospaced { font-family: monospace } - -.smaller { font-size: smaller } -.larger { font-size: larger } - -.xx-small { font-size: xx-small } -.x-small { font-size: x-small } -.small { font-size: small } -.medium { font-size: medium } -.large { font-size: large } -.x-large { font-size: x-large } -.xx-large { font-size: xx-large } - -.text-transform-uppercase { text-transform: uppercase } -.text-transform-lowercase { text-transform: lowercase } -.text-transform-none { text-transform: none } - -.red { color: red } -.green { color: green } -.blue { color: blue } -.yellow { color: yellow } -.white { color: white } -.gray { color: gray } -.black { color: black } - -/* ALIGN */ - -.left { text-align: left } -.center { text-align: center } -.right { text-align: right } -.justify { text-align: justify } - -/* LINE HEIGHT */ - -body { line-height: 1.5 } -p { margin: 0; - text-indent: 2em } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.title, .subtitle { page-break-after: avoid } - -.container, .title, .subtitle, #pg-header - { page-break-inside: avoid } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { text-align: justify } - -p.pfirst, -p.center, -p.right, -div.center p, -div.right p, -p.noindent { text-indent: 0 } - -.boxed { border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em } -.topic, .note { margin: 5% 0; border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em } -div.section { clear: both } - -div.line-block { margin: 1.5em 0 } /* same leading as p */ -div.line-block.inner { margin: 0 0 0 10% } -div.line { margin-left: 20%; text-indent: -20%; } -.line-block.noindent div.line { margin-left: 0; text-indent: 0; } - -hr.docutils { margin: 1.5em 40%; border: none; border-bottom: 1px solid black; } -div.transition { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -.vfill, .vspace { border: 0px solid white } - -.title { margin: 1.5em 0 } -.title.with-subtitle { margin-bottom: 0 } -.subtitle { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -/* header font style */ -/* http://dev.w3.org/csswg/css3-fonts/#propdef-font-size */ - -h1.title { font-size: 200%; } /* for book title only */ -h2.title, p.subtitle.level-1 { font-size: 150%; margin-top: 4.5em; margin-bottom: 2em } -h3.title, p.subtitle.level-2 { font-size: 120%; margin-top: 2.25em; margin-bottom: 1.25em } -h4.title, p.subtitle.level-3 { font-size: 100%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; font-weight: bold; } -h5.title, p.subtitle.level-4 { font-size: 89%; margin-top: 1.87em; margin-bottom: 1.69em; font-style: italic; } -h6.title, p.subtitle.level-5 { font-size: 60%; margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2.5em } - -/* title page */ - -h1.title, p.subtitle.level-1, -h2.title, p.subtitle.level-2 { text-align: center } - -#pg-header, -h1.document-title { margin: 10% 0 5% 0 } -p.document-subtitle { margin: 0 0 5% 0 } - -/* PG header and footer */ -#pg-machine-header { } -#pg-produced-by { } - -li.toc-entry { list-style-type: none } -ul.open li, ol.open li { margin-bottom: 1.5em } - -.attribution { margin-top: 1.5em } - -.example-rendered { - margin: 1em 5%; border: 1px dotted red; padding: 1em; background-color: #ffd } -.literal-block.example-source { - margin: 1em 5%; border: 1px dotted blue; padding: 1em; background-color: #eef } - -/* DROPCAPS */ - -/* BLOCKQUOTES */ - -blockquote { margin: 1.5em 10% } - -blockquote.epigraph { } - -blockquote.highlights { } - -div.local-contents { margin: 1.5em 10% } - -div.abstract { margin: 3em 10% } -div.caption { margin: 1.5em 10%; text-align: center; font-style: italic } -div.legend { margin: 1.5em 10% } - -.hidden { display: none } - -.invisible { visibility: hidden; color: white } /* white: mozilla print bug */ - -a.toc-backref { - text-decoration: none ; - color: black } - -dl.docutils dd { - margin-bottom: 0.5em } - -div.figure { margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em } - -img { max-width: 100% } - -div.footer, div.header { - clear: both; - font-size: smaller } - -div.sidebar { - margin: 0 0 0.5em 1em ; - border: medium outset ; - padding: 1em ; - background-color: #ffffee ; - width: 40% ; - float: right ; - clear: right } - -div.sidebar p.rubric { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-size: medium } - -ol.simple, ul.simple { margin: 1.5em 0 } - -ol.toc-list, ul.toc-list { padding-left: 0 } -ol ol.toc-list, ul ul.toc-list { padding-left: 5% } - -ol.arabic { - list-style: decimal } - -ol.loweralpha { - list-style: lower-alpha } - -ol.upperalpha { - list-style: upper-alpha } - -ol.lowerroman { - list-style: lower-roman } - -ol.upperroman { - list-style: upper-roman } - -p.credits { - font-style: italic ; - font-size: smaller } - -p.label { - white-space: nowrap } - -p.rubric { - font-weight: bold ; - font-size: larger ; - color: maroon ; - text-align: center } - -p.sidebar-title { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold ; - font-size: larger } - -p.sidebar-subtitle { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold } - -p.topic-title, p.admonition-title { - font-weight: bold } - -pre.address { - margin-bottom: 0 ; - margin-top: 0 ; - font: inherit } - -.literal-block, .doctest-block { - margin-left: 2em ; - margin-right: 2em; } - -span.classifier { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-style: oblique } - -span.classifier-delimiter { - font-family: sans-serif ; - font-weight: bold } - -span.interpreted { - font-family: sans-serif } - -span.option { - white-space: nowrap } - -span.pre { - white-space: pre } - -span.problematic { - color: red } - -span.section-subtitle { - /* font-size relative to parent (h1..h6 element) */ - font-size: 100% } - -table { margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em; border-spacing: 0 } -table.align-left, table.align-right { margin-top: 0 } - -table.table { border-collapse: collapse; } - -table.table.hrules-table thead { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 2px 0 0 } -table.table.hrules-table tbody { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 2px 0 } -table.table.hrules-rows tr { border: 1px solid black; border-width: 0 0 1px } -table.table.hrules-rows tr.last { border-width: 0 } -table.table.hrules-rows td, -table.table.hrules-rows th { padding: 1ex 1em; vertical-align: middle } - -table.table tr { border-width: 0 } -table.table td, -table.table th { padding: 0.5ex 1em } -table.table tr.first td { padding-top: 1ex } -table.table tr.last td { padding-bottom: 1ex } -table.table tr.first th { padding-top: 1ex } -table.table tr.last th { padding-bottom: 1ex } - - -table.citation { - border-left: solid 1px gray; - margin-left: 1px } - -table.docinfo { - margin: 3em 4em } - -table.docutils { } - -tr.footnote.footnote td, tr.footnote.footnote th { - padding: 0 0.5em 1.5em; -} - -table.docutils td, table.docutils th, -table.docinfo td, table.docinfo th { - padding: 0 0.5em; - vertical-align: top } - -table.docutils th.field-name, table.docinfo th.docinfo-name { - font-weight: bold ; - text-align: left ; - white-space: nowrap ; - padding-left: 0 } - -/* used to remove borders from tables and images */ -.borderless, table.borderless td, table.borderless th { - border: 0 } - -table.borderless td, table.borderless th { - /* Override padding for "table.docutils td" with "!important". - The right padding separates the table cells. */ - padding: 0 0.5em 0 0 } /* FIXME: was !important */ - -h1 tt.docutils, h2 tt.docutils, h3 tt.docutils, -h4 tt.docutils, h5 tt.docutils, h6 tt.docutils { - font-size: 100% } - -ul.auto-toc { - list-style-type: none } -</style> -<style type="text/css"> -/* -Project Gutenberg HTML docutils stylesheet. - -This stylesheet contains styles specific to HTML. -*/ - -/* FONTS */ - -/* em { font-style: normal } -strong { font-weight: normal } */ - -.small-caps { font-variant: small-caps } -.gesperrt { letter-spacing: 0.1em } - -/* ALIGN */ - -.align-left { clear: left; - float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -</style> -<title>THE OLD ADAM</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Old Adam" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Arnold Bennett" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1913" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="40168" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2012-07-08" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Old Adam A Story of Adventure" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Old Adam A Story of Adventure" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="adam.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2012-07-08T17:41:53.699082+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40168" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Arnold Bennett" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2012-07-08" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.19b4 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -<style type="text/css"> -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-old-adam"> -<h1 class="document-title level-1 pfirst title">THE OLD ADAM</h1> - -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en noindent pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst">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 <a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a> -included with this eBook or online at -<a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a>.</p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container noindent white-space-pre-line" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst white-space-pre-line"><span class="white-space-pre-line">Title: The Old Adam<br /> - A Story of Adventure<br /> -<br /> -Author: Arnold Bennett<br /> -<br /> -Release Date: July 08, 2012 [EBook #40168]<br /> -<br /> -Language: English<br /> -<br /> -Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line">*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>THE OLD ADAM</span> ***</p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="width: 62%" id="figure-11"> -<img class="align-center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption figure"> -Cover</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container titlepage white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line x-large">THE OLD ADAM</p> -<p class="large pnext white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">A STORY OF ADVENTURE</em></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst small white-space-pre-line">BY</p> -<p class="medium pnext white-space-pre-line">ARNOLD BENNETT</p> -<p class="pnext small white-space-pre-line">AUTHOR OF "THE OLD WIVES' TALE," "HOW TO LIVE<br /> -ON TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY," ETC.</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">NEW YORK<br /> -GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container verso white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="center pfirst small white-space-pre-line">Copyright, 1913<br /> -BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container plainpage white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="center large pfirst white-space-pre-line">CONTENTS</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">PART I</p> -<p class="left medium pnext white-space-pre-line">CHAPTER</p> -<ol class="left medium upperroman simple white-space-pre-line"> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><p class="first pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#dog-bite">Dog-Bite</a></p> -</li> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><p class="first pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-bank-note">The Bank-Note</a></p> -</li> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><p class="first pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#wilkins-s">Wilkins's</a></p> -</li> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><p class="first pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#entry-into-the-theatrical-world">Entry Into The Theatrical World</a></p> -</li> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><p class="first pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#mr-sachs-talks">Mr. Sachs Talks</a></p> -</li> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><p class="first pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#lord-woldo-and-lady-woldo">Lord Woldo And Lady Woldo</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">PART II</p> -<ol class="left medium upperroman simple white-space-pre-line" start="7"> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><p class="first pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#corner-stone">Corner-stone</a></p> -</li> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><p class="first pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#dealing-with-elsie">Dealing with Elsie</a></p> -</li> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><p class="first pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#the-first-night">The First Night</a></p> -</li> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><p class="first pfirst white-space-pre-line"><a class="reference internal white-space-pre-line" href="#isabel">Isabel</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst x-large" id="dog-bite">THE OLD ADAM</p> -<p class="center large pnext">PART I</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst x-large">THE OLD ADAM</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER I</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">DOG-BITE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">I.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"And yet," Edward Henry Machin reflected -as at six minutes to six he approached his -own dwelling at the top of Bleakridge, -"and yet--I don't feel so jolly after all!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The first two words of this disturbing meditation -had reference to the fact that, by telephoning twice -to his stockbrokers at Manchester, he had just made -the sum of three hundred and forty-one pounds in a -purely speculative transaction concerning Rubber -shares. (It was in the autumn of the great gambling -year, 1910). He had simply opened his lucky and -wise mouth at the proper moment, and the money, -like ripe golden fruit, had fallen into it, a gift from -benign Heaven, surely a cause for happiness! And -yet--he did not feel so jolly! He was surprised, -he was even a little hurt, to discover by introspection -that monetary gain was not necessarily accompanied -by felicity. Nevertheless, this very successful -man of the world of the Five Towns, having been -born on the 27th of May, 1867, had reached the age -of forty-three and a half years.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I must be getting older," he reflected.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was right. He was still young, as every man -of forty-three will agree, but he was getting older. -A few years ago a windfall of Three hundred and -forty-one pounds would not have been followed by -morbid self-analysis; it would have been followed by -unreasoning instinctive elation, which elation would -have endured at least twelve hours.</p> -<p class="pnext">As he disappeared within the reddish garden wall -which sheltered his abode from the publicity of -Trafalgar Road, he half hoped to see Nellie -waiting for him on the famous marble step of the porch, -for the woman had long, long since invented a way -of scouting for his advent from the small window -in the bathroom. But there was nobody on the -marble step. His melancholy increased. At the -midday meal he had complained of neuralgia, and -hence this was an evening upon which he might fairly -have expected to see sympathy charmingly attired -on the porch. It is true that the neuralgia had -completely gone. "Still," he said to himself with -justifiable sardonic gloom, "how does she know my -neuralgia's gone? She doesn't know."</p> -<p class="pnext">Having opened the front door with the thinnest, -neatest latchkey in the Five Towns, he entered his -home and stumbled slightly over a brush that was -lying against the sunk door-mat. He gazed at that -brush with resentment. It was a dilapidated -handbrush. The offensive object would have been out of -place, at nightfall, in the lobby of any house. But -in the lobby of his house--the house which he had -planned a dozen years earlier to the special end of -minimising domestic labour, and which he had -always kept up to date with the latest devices--in his -lobby the spectacle of a vile outworn hand-brush at -tea-time amounted to a scandal. Less than a -fortnight previously he had purchased and presented to -his wife a marvellous electric vacuum-cleaner, -surpassing all former vacuum-cleaners. You simply -attached this machine by a cord to the wall, like a -dog, and waved it in mysterious passes over the -floor, like a fan, and the house was clean! He was -as proud of this machine as though he had invented -it, instead of having merely bought it; every day -he enquired about its feats, expecting enthusiastic -replies as a sort of reward for his own keenness; and -be it said that he had had enthusiastic replies.</p> -<p class="pnext">And now this obscene hand-brush!</p> -<p class="pnext">As he carefully removed his hat and his beautiful -new Melton overcoat (which had the colour and the -soft smoothness of a damson), he animadverted -upon the astounding negligence of women. There -were Nellie, his wife; his mother, the nurse, the -cook, the maid--five of them; and in his mind -they had all plotted together--a conspiracy of -carelessness--to leave the inexcusable tool in his lobby -for him to stumble over. What was the use of -accidentally procuring three hundred and forty-one -pounds?</p> -<p class="pnext">Still no sign of Nellie, though he purposely made -a noisy rattle with his ebon walking-stick. Then -the maid burst out of the kitchen with a tray and the -principal utensils for high tea thereon. She had a -guilty air. The household was evidently late. -Two steps at a time he rushed up-stairs to the -bathroom, so as to be waiting in the dining-room at six -precisely, in order, if possible, to shame the -household and fill it with remorse and unpleasantness. -Yet, ordinarily, he was not a very prompt man, nor -did he delight in giving pain. On the contrary, he -was apt to be casual, blithe, and agreeable.</p> -<p class="pnext">The bathroom was his peculiar domain, which he -was always modernising, and where his talent for the -ingenious organisation of comfort and his utter -indifference to esthetic beauty had the fullest scope. -By universal consent admitted to be the finest -bathroom in the Five Towns, it typified the whole house. -He was disappointed on this occasion to see no -untidy trace in it of the children's ablution; some -transgression of the supreme domestic law that the -bathroom must always be free and immaculate when -Father wanted it would have suited his gathering -humour. As he washed his hands and cleansed his -well-trimmed nails with a nail-brush that had cost -five shillings and sixpence, he glanced at himself in -the mirror which he was splashing. A stoutish, -broad-shouldered, fair, chubby man with a short -bright beard and plenteous bright hair! His -necktie pleased him; the elegance of his turned-back -wristbands pleased him; and he liked the rich down -on his forearms.</p> -<p class="pnext">He could not believe that he looked forty-three -and a half. And yet he had recently had an idea -of shaving off his beard, partly to defy time, but -partly, also (I must admit), because a friend had -suggested to him, wildly perhaps, that if he -dispensed with a beard his hair might grow more -sturdily. Yes, there was one weak spot in the middle -of the top of his head where the crop had of late -disconcertingly thinned. The hair-dresser had -informed him that the symptom would vanish under -electric massage, and that, if he doubted the -bonafides of hair-dressers, any doctor would testify to -the value of electric massage. But now Edward -Henry Machin, strangely discouraged, inexplicably -robbed of the zest of existence, decided that it was -not worth while to shave off his beard. Nothing -was worth while. If he was forty-three and a half, -he was forty-three and a half. To become bald -was the common lot. Moreover, beardless, he -would need the service of a barber every day. And -he was absolutely persuaded that not a barber worth -the name could be found in the Five Towns. He -actually went to Manchester, thirty-six miles, to get -his hair cut. The operation never cost him less -than a sovereign and half a day's time. And he -honestly deemed himself to be a fellow of simple -tastes! Such is the effect of the canker of luxury. -Happily he could afford these simple tastes; for, -although not rich in the modern significance of -the term, he paid income tax on some five -thousand pounds a year, without quite convincing the -Surveyor of Taxes that he was an honest man.</p> -<p class="pnext">He brushed the thick hair over the weak spot, he -turned down his wristbands, he brushed the collar -of his jacket, and lastly his beard; and he put on -his jacket--with a certain care, for he was very -neat. And then, reflectively twisting his moustache -to military points, he spied through the smaller -window to see whether the new high hoarding of -the football-ground really did prevent a serious -observer from descrying wayfarers as they breasted -the hill from Hanbridge. It did not. Then he -spied through the larger window upon the yard, to -see whether the wall of the new rooms which he -had lately added to his house showed any further -trace of damp, and whether the new chauffeur was -washing the new motor-car with all his heart. The -wall showed no further trace of damp, and the new -chauffeur's bent back seemed to symbolise an -extreme conscientiousness.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then the clock on the landing struck six, and he -hurried off to put the household to open shame.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Nellie came into the dining-room two -minutes after her husband. As Edward Henry had -laboriously counted these two minutes almost -second by second on the dining-room clock, he -was very tired of waiting. His secret annoyance -was increased by the fact that Nellie took off her -white apron in the doorway and flung it hurriedly -on to the table-tray which, during the progress of -meals, was established outside the dining-room door. -He did not actually witness this operation of -undressing, because Nellie was screened by the -half-closed door; but he was entirely aware of it. He -disliked it, and he had always disliked it. When -Nellie was at work, either as a mother or as the -owner of certain fine silver ornaments, he rather -enjoyed the wonderful white apron, for it suited her -temperament; but as the head of a household with -six thousand pounds a year at its disposal, he -objected to any hint of the thing at meals. And -to-night he objected to it altogether. Who could guess -from the homeliness of their family life that he was -in a position to spend a hundred pounds a week and -still have enough income left over to pay the salary -of a town clerk or so? Nobody could guess; and he -felt that people ought to be able to guess. When -he was young he would have esteemed an income -of six thousand pounds a year as necessarily -implicating feudal state, valets, castles, yachts, family -solicitors, racing-stables, county society, dinner-calls, -and a drawling London accent. Why should his -wife wear an apron at all? But the sad truth was -that neither his wife nor his mother ever <em class="italics">looked</em> -rich, nor even endeavoured to look rich. His -mother would carry an eighty-pound sealskin as -though she had picked it up at a jumble sale, and -his wife put such simplicity into the wearing of a -hundred-and-eighty pound diamond ring that its -expensiveness was generally quite wasted.</p> -<p class="pnext">And yet, while the logical male in him scathingly -condemned this feminine defect of character, his -private soul was glad of it, for he well knew that he -would have been considerably irked by the -complexities and grandeurs of high life. But never -would he have admitted this.</p> -<p class="pnext">Nellie's face as she sat down was not limpid. He -understood naught of it. More than twenty years -had passed since they had first met--he and a -wistful little creature--at a historic town-hall dance. -He could still see the wistful little creature in those -placid and pure features, in that buxom body; but -now there was a formidable, capable, and experienced -woman there too. Impossible to credit that -the wistful little creature was thirty-seven! But she -was. Indeed, it was very doubtful if she would -ever see thirty-eight again. Once he had had the -most romantic feelings about her. He could recall -the slim flexibility of her waist, the timorous, -melting invitation of her eyes. And now--such was -human existence!</p> -<p class="pnext">She sat up erect on her chair. She did not -apologise for being late. She made no inquiry as to his -neuralgia. On the other hand, she was not cross. -She was just neutral, polite, cheerful, and -apparently conscious of perfection. He strongly desired -to inform her of the exact time of day, but his lips -would not articulate the words.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Maud," she said with divine calm to the maid -who bore in the baked York ham under its silver -canopy, "you haven't taken away that brush that's -in the passage." Another illustration of Nellie's -inability to live up to six thousand pounds a year; -she would always refer to the hall as the "passage."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Please'm, I did, m'm," replied Maud, now as -conscious of perfection as her mistress. "He must -have took it back again."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who's 'he'?" demanded the master.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Carlo, sir." Upon which triumph Maud retired.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry was dashed. Nevertheless, he -quickly recovered his presence of mind, and sought -about for a justification of his previous verdict upon -the negligence of five women.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It would have been easy enough to put the brush -where the dog couldn't get at it," he said. But he -said this strictly to himself. He could not say it -aloud. Nor could he say aloud the words -"neuralgia," "three hundred and forty-one pounds," any -more than he could say "late."</p> -<p class="pnext">That he was in a peculiar mental condition is -proved by the fact that he did not remark the -absence of his mother until he was putting her share -of baked ham on to a plate.</p> -<p class="pnext">He thought, "This is a bit thick, this is!" -meaning the extreme lateness of his mother for the meal. -But his only audible remark was a somewhat -impatient banging down of the hot plate in front of his -mother's empty chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">In answer to this banging, Nellie quietly began:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Your mother--"</p> -<p class="pnext">(He knew instantly, then, that Nellie was disturbed -about something or other. Mother-in-law and -daughter-in-law lived together under one roof in -perfect amity. Nay more, they often formed -powerful and unscrupulous leagues against him. -But whenever Nellie was disturbed, by no matter -what, she would say "your mother" instead of -merely "Mother." It was an extraordinary subtle, -silly, and effective way of putting him in the wrong.)</p> -<p class="pnext">"Your mother is staying up-stairs with Robert."</p> -<p class="pnext">Robert was the eldest child, aged eight.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" breathed Edward Henry. He might -have enquired what the nurse was for; he might have -enquired how his mother meant to get her tea; but -he refrained, adding simply, "What's up now?"</p> -<p class="pnext">And in retort to his wife's "your," he laid a faint -emphasis on the word "now," to imply that those -women were always inventing some fresh imaginary -woe for the children.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Carlo's bitten him--in the calf," said Nellie, -tightening her lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">This, at any rate, was not imaginary.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The kid was teasing him as usual, I -suppose?" he suggested.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That I don't know," said Nellie. "But I know -we must get rid of that dog."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Serious?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course we must," Nellie insisted, with an -inadvertent heat which she immediately cooled.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I mean the bite."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well--it's a bite right enough."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And you're thinking of hydrophobia, death -amid horrible agony, and so on."</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I'm not," she said stoutly, trying to smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">But he knew she was. And he knew also that the -bite was a trifle. If it had been a good bite, -she would have made it enormous; she would have -hinted that the dog had left a chasm in the boy's -flesh.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, you are," he continued to twit her, -encouraged by her attempt at a smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">However, the smile expired.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I suppose you won't deny that Carlo's teeth -may have been dirty? He's always nosing in -some filth or other," she said challengingly, in a -measured tone of sagacity. "And there may be -blood-poisoning."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Blood-fiddlesticks!" exclaimed Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">Such a nonsensical and infantile rejoinder deserved -no answer, and it received none. Shortly -afterwards Maud entered and whispered that Nellie was -wanted up-stairs. As soon as his wife had gone, -Edward Henry rang the bell.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Maud," he said, "bring me the <em class="italics">Signal</em> out -of my left-hand overcoat-pocket."</p> -<p class="pnext">And he defiantly finished his meal at leisure, with -the news of the day propped up against the flower-pot, -which he had set before him instead of the -dish of ham.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">III.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Later, catching through the open door -fragments of a conversation on the stairs which -indicated that his mother was at last coming down -for tea, he sped like a threatened delinquent -into the drawing-room. He had no wish to -encounter his mother, though that woman usually said -little.</p> -<p class="pnext">The drawing-room, after the bathroom, was -Edward Henry's favourite district in the home. Since -he could not spend the whole of his time in the -bathroom,--and he could not!--he wisely gave a -special care to the drawing-room, and he loved it -as one always loves that upon which one has bestowed -benefits. He was proud of the drawing-room, and -he had the right to be. The principal object in it, -at night, was the electric chandelier, which would -have been adequate for a lighthouse. Edward -Henry's eyes were not what they used to be; and the -minor advertisements in the <em class="italics">Signal</em>, which constituted -his sole evening perusals, often lacked legibility. -Edward Henry sincerely believed in light and heat; -he was almost the only person in the Five Towns -who did. In the Five Towns people have fires in -their grates--not to warm the room, but to make -the room bright. Seemingly they use their pride to -keep themselves warm. At any rate, whenever -Edward Henry talked to them of radiators, they would -sternly reply that a radiator did not and could not -brighten a room. Edward Henry had made the -great discovery that an efficient chandelier will -brighten a room better even than a fire; and he had -gilded his radiator. The notion of gilding the -radiator was not his own; he had seen a gilded radiator -in the newest hotel at Birmingham, and had -rejoiced as some peculiar souls rejoice when they -meet a fine line in a new poem. (In concession to -popular prejudice, Edward Henry had fire-grates in -his house, and fires therein during exceptionally -frosty weather; but this did not save him from -being regarded in the Five Towns as in some ways a -peculiar soul.) The effulgent source of dark heat -was scientifically situated in front of the window, and -on ordinarily cold evenings Edward Henry and his -wife and mother, and an acquaintance if one -happened to come in, would gather round the radiator -and play bridge or dummy whist.</p> -<p class="pnext">The other phenomena of the drawing-room which -particularly interested Edward Henry were the -Turkey carpet, the four vast easy chairs, the sofa, -the imposing cigar-cabinet, and the mechanical -piano-player. At one brief period he had hovered a good -deal about the revolving bookcase containing the -encyclopedia, to which his collection of books was -limited; but the frail passion for literature had not -survived a struggle with the seductions of the -mechanical piano-player.</p> -<p class="pnext">The walls of the room never drew his notice. -He had chosen, some years before, a patent -washable kind of wall-paper (which could be wiped over -with a damp cloth), and he had also chosen the -pattern of the paper, but it is a fact that he could -spend hours in any room without even seeing the -pattern of its paper. In the same way, his wife's -cushions and little draperies and bows were invisible -to him, though he had searched for and duly obtained -the perfect quality of swansdown which filled -the cushions.</p> -<p class="pnext">The one ornament of the walls which attracted -him was a large and splendidly framed oil-painting -of a ruined castle in the midst of a sombre forest -through which cows were strolling. In the tower -of the castle was a clock, and this clock was a -realistic timepiece whose fingers moved and told the -hour. Two of the oriel windows of the castle were -realistic holes in its masonry; through one of them -you could put a key to wind up the clock, and -through the other you could put a key to wind up a -secret musical box which played sixteen different -tunes. He had bought this handsome relic of the -Victorian era (not less artistic, despite your scorn, -than many devices for satisfying the higher instincts -of the present day) at an auction sale in the Strand, -London. But it, too, had been supplanted in his -esteem by the mechanical piano-player.</p> -<p class="pnext">He now selected an example of the most expensive -cigar in the cigar-cabinet, and lighted it as only -a connoisseur can light a cigar--lovingly; he blew -out the match lingeringly, with regret, and dropped -it and the cigar's red collar with care into a large -copper bowl on the centre table, instead of flinging -it against the Japanese umbrella in the fireplace. -(A grave disadvantage of radiators is that you -cannot throw odds and ends into them.) He chose the -most expensive cigar because he wanted comfort and -peace. The ham was not digesting very well.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he sat down and applied himself to the -property advertisements in the <em class="italics">Signal</em>, a form of -sensational serial which usually enthralled him--but -not to-night. He allowed the paper to lapse on to -the floor, and then rose impatiently, rearranged the -thick dark blue curtains behind the radiator, and -finally yielded to the silent call of the mechanical -piano-player. He quite knew that to dally with -the piano-player while smoking a high-class cigar -was to insult the cigar; but he did not care. He -tilted the cigar upwards from an extreme corner -of his mouth, and through the celestial smoke -gazed at the titles of the new music-rolls which -had been delivered that day, and which were -ranged on the top of the piano itself.</p> -<p class="pnext">And while he did so he was thinking:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why in thunder didn't the little thing come and -tell me at once about that kid and his dog-bite? I -wonder why she didn't! She seemed only to mention -it by accident. I wonder why she didn't bounce -into the bathroom and tell me at once?"</p> -<p class="pnext">But it was untrue that he sought vainly for an -answer to this riddle. He was aware of the -answer. He even kept saying over the answer to -himself:</p> -<p class="pnext">"She's made up her mind I've been teasing her -a bit too much lately about those kids and their -precious illnesses. And she's doing the dignified. -That's what she's doing! She's doing the dignified!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Of course, instantly after his tea he ought to -have gone up-stairs to inspect the wounded victim -of dogs. The victim was his own child, and its -mother was his wife. He knew that he ought to -have gone up-stairs long since. He knew he ought -now to go, and the sooner the better. But somehow -he could not go; he could not bring himself to go. -In the minor and major crises of married life there -are not two partners but four; each partner has a -dual personality; each partner is indeed two -different persons, and one of these fights against the -other, with the common result of a fatal inaction.</p> -<p class="pnext">The wickeder of the opposing persons in Edward -Henry, getting the upper hand of the more virtuous, -sniggered. "Dirty teeth, indeed! Blood-poisoning, -indeed! Why not rabies, while she's about it? -I guarantee she's dreaming of coffins and mourning -coaches already!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Scanning nonchalantly the titles of the music-rolls, -he suddenly saw: "Funeral March. Chopin."</p> -<p class="pnext">"She shall have it," he said, affixing the roll to -the mechanism. And added, "Whatever it is!"</p> -<p class="pnext">For he was not acquainted with the Funeral -March from Chopin's Pianoforte Sonata. His -musical education had in truth begun only a year -earlier, with the advertisement of the "Pianisto" -mechanical player. He was a judge of advertisements, -and the "Pianisto" literature pleased him -in a high degree. He justifiably reckoned that he -could distinguish between honest and dishonest -advertising. He made a deep study of the question of -mechanical players, and deliberately came to the -conclusion that the "Pianisto" was the best. It was also -the most costly; but one of the conveniences of -having six thousand pounds a year is that you need not -deny yourself the best mechanical player because it -happens to be the most costly. He bought a -"Pianisto," and incidentally he bought a superb -grand piano, and exiled the old cottage piano to the -nursery.</p> -<p class="pnext">The "Pianisto" was the best, partly because, -like the vacuum-cleaner, it could be operated by -electricity, and partly because, by means of certain -curved lines on the unrolling paper, and of certain -gun-metal levers and clutches, it enabled the -operator to put his secret ardent soul into the music. -Assuredly it had given Edward Henry a taste for -music. The whole world of musical compositions -was his to conquer, and he conquered it at the rate -of about two great masters a month. From -Handel to Richard Strauss, even from Palestrina to -Debussy, the achievements of genius lay at his mercy. -He criticised them with a freedom that was -entirely unprejudiced by tradition. Beethoven was no -more to him than Arthur Sullivan; indeed, was -rather less. The works of his choice were the -"Tannhäuser" overture, a potpourri of Verdi's -"Aïda," Chopin's Study in Thirds--which ravished -him--and a selection from "The Merry Widow," -which also ravished him. So that on the whole it -may be said that he had a very good natural taste.</p> -<p class="pnext">He at once liked Chopin's Funeral March. He -entered profoundly into the spirit of it. With the -gun-metal levers he produced in a marvellous fashion -the long tragic roll of the drums, and by the -manipulation of a clutch he distilled into the chant at the -graveside a melancholy sweetness that rent the -heart. The later crescendi were overwhelming. -And as he played there, with the bright blaze of -the chandelier on his fair hair and beard, and the -blue cigar-smoke in his nostrils, and the effluence -of the gilded radiator behind him, and the intimacy -of the drawn window curtains and the closed and -curtained door folding him in from the world, and the -agony of the music grieving his artistic soul to the -core--as he played there, he grew gradually -happier and happier, and the zest of existence seemed -to return. It was not only that he felt the -elemental, unfathomable satisfaction of a male who is -sheltered in solitude from a pack of women that -have got on his nerves; there was also the more -piquant assurance that he was behaving in a very -sprightly manner. How long was it since he had -accomplished anything worthy of his ancient -reputation as a "card," as "the" card of the Five -Towns? He could not say; but now he knew that -he was being a card again. The whole town would -smile and forgive and admire if it learnt that--</p> -<p class="pnext">Nellie invaded the room. She had resumed the affray.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Denry!" she reproached him, in an -uncontrolled voice. "I'm ashamed of you! I really -am!" She was no longer doing the dignified. The -mask was off, and the unmistakable lineaments of -the outraged mother appeared. That she should -address him as "Denry" proved the intensity of -her agitation. Years ago, when he had been made -an alderman, his wife and his mother had decided -that "Denry" was no longer a suitable name for -him, and had abandoned it in favour of "Edward -Henry."</p> -<p class="pnext">He ceased playing.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?" he protested, with a ridiculous air of -innocence. "I'm only playing Chopin. Can't I -play Chopin?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He was rather surprised and impressed that she -had recognised the piece for what it was. But of -course she did, as a fact, know something about -music, he remembered, though she never touched -the "Pianisto."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I think it's a pity you can't choose some other -evening for your funeral marches!" she exclaimed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"If that's it," said Edward Henry like lightning, -"why did you stick me out you weren't afraid of -hydrophobia?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll thank you to come up-stairs," she replied -with warmth.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, all right, my dear! All right!" he cooed.</p> -<p class="pnext">And they went up-stairs in a rather solemn procession.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">IV.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Nellie led the way to the chamber known -as "Maisie's room," where the youngest of the -Machins was wont to sleep in charge of the -nurse, who, under the supervision of the mother -of all three, had dominion over Robert, Ralph, -and their little sister. The first thing that -Edward Henry noticed was the screen which shut -off one of the beds. The unfurling of the four-fold -screen was always a sure sign that Nellie was taking -an infantile illness seriously. It was an indication -to Edward Henry of the importance of the dog-bite -in Nellie's esteem. When all the chicks of the brood -happened to be simultaneously sound, the screen -reposed, inconspicuous, at an angle against a wall -behind the door; but when pestilence was abroad, the -screen travelled from one room to another in -the wake of it, and, spreading wide, took part in the -battle of life and death.</p> -<p class="pnext">In an angle of the screen, on the side of it away -from the bed and near the fire (in times of stress -Nellie would not rely on radiators), sat old -Mrs. Machin, knitting. She was a thin, bony woman of -sixty-nine years, and as hard and imperishable as -teak. So far as her son knew, she had only had -two illnesses in her life. The first was an attack -of influenza, and the second was an attack of acute -rheumatism, which had incapacitated her for -several weeks. Edward Henry and Nellie had taken -advantage of her helplessness, then, to force her to -give up her barbaric cottage in Brougham Street and -share permanently the splendid comfort of their -home. She existed in their home like a philosophic -prisoner of war at the court of conquerors, behaving -faultlessly, behaving magnanimously in the -melancholy grandeur of her fall, but never renouncing her -soul's secret independence, nor permitting herself -to forget that she was on foreign ground. When -Edward Henry looked at those yellow and seasoned -fingers which, by hard manual labour, had kept -herself and him in the young days of his humble -obscurity, and which, during sixty years had not been -idle for more than six weeks in all, he grew almost -apologetic for his wealth. They reminded him of -the day when his total resources were five pounds, -won in a wager, and of the day when he drove -proudly about behind a mule collecting other -people's rents, and of the glittering day when -he burst in on her from Llandudno with over -a thousand gold sovereigns in a hat-box,--product -of his first great picturesque coup,--imagining -himself to be an English Jay Gould. She -had not blenched even then. She had not blenched -since. And she never would blench. In spite of his -gorgeous position and his unique reputation, in spite -of her well-concealed but notorious pride in him, he -still went in fear of that ageless woman, whose -undaunted eye always told him that he was still the -lad Denry, and her inferior in moral force. The -curve of her thin lips seemed ever to be warning -him that with her pretensions were quite useless, and -that she saw through him, and through him to the -innermost grottoes of his poor human depravity.</p> -<p class="pnext">He caught her eye guiltily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Behold the alderman!" she murmured with -grimness.</p> -<p class="pnext">That was all. But the three words took thirty -years off his back, snatched the half-crown cigar out -of his hand, and reduced him again to the raw, -hungry boy of Brougham Street. And he knew that -he had sinned gravely in not coming up-stairs very -much earlier.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is that you, Father?" called the high voice of -Robert from the back of the screen.</p> -<p class="pnext">He had to admit to his son that it was he.</p> -<p class="pnext">The infant lay on his back in Maisie's bed, while -his mother sat lightly on the edge of nurse's bed -near-by.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, you're a nice chap!" said Edward -Henry, avoiding Nellie's glance, but trying to face -his son as one innocent man may face another, and -not perfectly succeeding. He never could feel like -a real father somehow.</p> -<p class="pnext">"My temperature's above normal," announced -Robert proudly, and then added with regret, "but -not much!"</p> -<p class="pnext">There was the clinical thermometer--instrument -which Edward Henry despised and detested as being -an inciter of illnesses--in a glass of water on -the table between the two beds.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Father!" Robert began again.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, Robert?" said Edward Henry cheerfully.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was glad that the child was in one of his rare -loquacious moods, because the chatter not only -proved that the dog had done no serious damage,--it -also eased the silent strain between himself and -Nellie.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why did you play the Funeral March, Father?" -asked Robert; and the question fell into the -tranquillity of the room rather like a bomb that had -not quite decided whether or not to burst.</p> -<p class="pnext">For the second time that evening Edward Henry -was dashed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Have you been meddling with my music-rolls?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, Father. I only read the labels."</p> -<p class="pnext">This child simply read everything.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How did you know I was playing a funeral -march?" Edward Henry demanded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, <em class="italics">I</em> didn't tell him!" Nellie put in, excusing -herself before she was accused. She smiled -benignly, as an angel woman, capable of forgiving all. -But there were moments when Edward Henry hated -moral superiority and Christian meekness in a wife. -Moreover, Nellie somewhat spoiled her own effect -by adding with an artificial continuation of the -smile, "You needn't look at <em class="italics">me</em>!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry considered the remark otiose. -Though he had indeed ventured to look at her, he -had not looked at her in the manner which she -implied.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It made a noise like funerals and things," -Robert explained.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, it seems to me, <em class="italics">you</em> have been -playing a funeral march," said Edward Henry to the -child.</p> -<p class="pnext">He thought this rather funny, rather worthy of -himself, but the child answered with ruthless gravity -and a touch of disdain, for he was a disdainful child, -without bowels:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't know what you mean, Father." The -curve of his lips (he had his grandmother's lips) -appeared to say, "I wish you wouldn't try to be -silly, Father." However, youth forgets very -quickly, and the next instant Robert was beginning -once more, "Father!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, Robert?"</p> -<p class="pnext">By mutual agreement of the parents, the child -was never addressed as "Bob" or "Bobby," or by -any other diminutive. In their practical opinion a -child's name was his name, and ought not to be -mauled or dismembered on the pretext of fondness. -Similarly, the child had not been baptised after his -father, or after any male member of either the -Machin or the Cotterill family. Why should -family names be perpetuated merely because they were -family names? A natural human reaction, this, -against the excessive sentimentalism of the Victorian -era!</p> -<p class="pnext">"What does 'stamped out' mean?" Robert enquired.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now Robert, among other activities, busied -himself in the collection of postage-stamps, and in -consequence his father's mind, under the impulse of the -question, ran immediately to postage-stamps.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Stamped out?" said Edward Henry, with the -air of omniscience that a father is bound to assume. -"Postage-stamps are stamped-out--by a machine--you see."</p> -<p class="pnext">Robert's scorn of this explanation was manifest.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," Edward Henry, piqued, made another -attempt, "you stamp a fire out with your feet." And -he stamped illustratively on the floor. After -all, the child was only eight.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I knew all that before," said Robert coldly. -"You don't understand."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What makes you ask, dear? Let us show -Father your leg." Nellie's voice was soothing.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," Robert murmured, staring reflectively at -the ceiling. "That's it. It says in the encyclopedia -that hydrophobia is stamped out in this country--by -Mr. Long's muzzling order. Who is Mr. Long?"</p> -<p class="pnext">A second bomb had fallen on exactly the same -spot as the first, and the two exploded -simultaneously. And the explosion was none the less -terrible because it was silent and invisible. The tidy -domestic chamber was strewn in a moment with -an awful mass of wounded susceptibilities. -Beyond the screen the <em class="italics">nick-nick</em> of grandmother's steel -needles stopped and started again. It was -characteristic of her temperament that she should recover -before the younger generations could recover. -Edward Henry, as befitted his sex, regained his nerve -a little earlier than Nellie.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I told you never to touch my encyclopedia," said -he sternly. Robert had twice been caught on his -stomach on the floor with a vast volume open under -his chin, and his studies had been traced by vile -thumb-marks.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I know," said Robert.</p> -<p class="pnext">Whenever anybody gave that child a piece of -unsolicited information, he almost invariably replied, -"I know."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But hydrophobia!" cried Nellie. "How did -you know about hydrophobia?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"We had it in spellings last week," Robert explained.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The deuce you did!" muttered Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">The one bright fact of the many-sided and gloomy -crisis was the very obvious truth that Robert was the -most extraordinary child that ever lived.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But when on earth did you get at the encyclopedia, -Robert?" his mother exclaimed, completely -at a loss.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It was before you came in from Hillport," the -wondrous infant answered. "After my leg had -stopped hurting me a bit."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But when I came in Nurse said it had only just happened!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Shows how much <em class="italics">she</em> knew!" said Robert, with contempt.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Does your leg hurt you now?" Edward Henry enquired.</p> -<p class="pnext">"A bit. That's why I can't go to sleep, of course."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, let's have a look at it." Edward Henry -attempted jollity.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mother's wrapped it all up in boracic wool."</p> -<p class="pnext">The bed-clothes were drawn down and the leg -gradually revealed. And the sight of the little soft -leg, so fragile and defenceless, really did touch -Edward Henry. It made him feel more like an -authentic father than he had felt for a long time. -And the sight of the red wound hurt him. Still, -it was a beautifully clean wound, and it was not -a large wound.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a clean wound," he observed judiciously. -In spite of himself, he could not keep a certain -flippant harsh quality out of his tone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I've naturally washed it with carbolic," -Nellie returned sharply.</p> -<p class="pnext">He illogically resented this sharpness.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course he was bitten through his stocking?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course," said Nellie, re-enveloping the wound -hastily, as though Edward Henry was not worthy to -regard it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, then, by the time they got through the -stocking, the animal's teeth couldn't be dirty. -Every one knows that."</p> -<p class="pnext">Nellie shut her lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Were you teasing Carlo?" Edward Henry -demanded curtly of his son.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't know."</p> -<p class="pnext">Whenever anybody asked that child for a piece -of information, he almost invariably replied, "I -don't know."</p> -<p class="pnext">"How, you don't know? You must know -whether you were teasing the dog or not!" Edward -Henry was nettled.</p> -<p class="pnext">The renewed spectacle of his own wound had -predisposed Robert to feel a great and tearful -sympathy for himself. His mouth now began to take -strange shapes and to increase magically in area, -and beads appeared in the corners of his large eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I--I was only measuring his tail by his hind -leg," he blubbered, and then sobbed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry did his best to save his dignity.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come, come!" he reasoned, less menacingly. -"Boys who can read enyclopedias mustn't be -cry-babies. You'd no business measuring Carlo's tail -by his hind leg. You ought to remember that that -dog's older than you." And this remark, too, he -thought rather funny, but apparently he was alone -in his opinion.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he felt something against his calf. And it -was Carlo's nose. Carlo was a large, very shaggy -and unkempt Northern terrier, but owing to vagueness -of his principal points, due doubtless to a -vagueness in his immediate ancestry, it was impossible to -decide whether he had come from the north or the -south side of the Tweed. This aging friend of -Edward Henry's, surmising that something unusual -was afoot in his house, and having entirely forgotten -the trifling episode of the bite, had unobtrusively -come to make enquiries.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Poor old boy!" said Edward Henry, stooping -to pat the dog. "Did they try to measure his tail -with his hind leg?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The gesture was partly instinctive, for he loved -Carlo; but it also had its origin in sheer nervousness, -in sheer ignorance of what was the best thing to do. -However, he was at once aware that he had done the -worst thing. Had not Nellie announced that the -dog must be got rid of? And here he was fondly -caressing the bloodthirsty dog! With a hysterical -movement of the lower part of her leg, Nellie pushed -violently against the dog,--she did not kick, but she -nearly kicked,--and Carlo, faintly howling a protest, fled.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry was hurt. He escaped from -between the beds, and from that close, enervating -domestic atmosphere where he was misunderstood by -women and disdained by infants. He wanted fresh -air; he wanted bars, whiskies, billiard-rooms, and -the society of masculine men about town. The -whole of his own world was against him.</p> -<p class="pnext">As he passed by his knitting mother, she ignored -him and moved not. She had a great gift of -holding aloof from conjugal complications.</p> -<p class="pnext">On the landing he decided that he would go out -at once into the major world. Half-way down the -stairs he saw his overcoat on the hall-stand, -beckoning to him and offering release.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he heard the bedroom door and his wife's -footsteps.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Edward Henry!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He stopped and looked up inimically at her face, -which overhung the banisters. It was the face of a -woman outraged in her most profound feelings, but -amazingly determined to be sweet.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What do you think of it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"What do I think of what? The wound?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why, it's simply nothing. Nothing at all. -You know how that kid always heals up quickly. -You won't be able to find the wound in a day or two."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Don't you think it ought to be cauterised at once?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He moved downwards.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I don't. I've been bitten three times in -my life by dogs, and I was never cauterised."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I <em class="italics">do</em> think it ought to be cauterised." She -raised her voice slightly as he retreated from -her. "And I shall be glad if you'll call in at -Dr. Stirling's and ask him to come round."</p> -<p class="pnext">He made no reply, but put on his overcoat and -his hat, and took his stick. Glancing up the stairs, -he saw Nellie was now standing at the head of them, -under the electric light there, and watching him. -He knew that she thought he was cravenly obeying -her command. She could have no idea that before -she spoke to him he had already decided to put on -his overcoat and hat and take his stick and go forth -into the major world. However, that was no affair -of his.</p> -<p class="pnext">He hesitated a second. Then the nurse appeared -out of the kitchen with a squalling Maisie in her -arms, and ran up-stairs. Why Maisie was -squalling, and why she should have been in the kitchen -at such an hour instead of in bed, he could not -guess; but he could guess that if he remained one -second longer in that exasperating minor world he -would begin to smash furniture, and so he quitted it.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">V.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was raining slightly, but he dared not return -to the house for his umbrella. In the haze -and wet of the shivering October night, the clock -of Bleakridge Church glowed like a fiery disk -suspended in the sky; and, mysteriously hanging -there, without visible means of support, it seemed -to him somehow to symbolise the enigma of the -universe and intensify his inward gloom. Never before -had he had such feelings to such a degree. It is -scarcely an exaggeration to say that never before -had the enigma of the universe occurred to him. -The side gates clicked as he stood hesitant under -the shelter of the wall, and a figure emerged from -his domain. It was Bellfield, the new chauffeur, -going across to his home in the little square in front -of the church. Bellfield touched his cap with an -eager and willing hand, as new chauffeurs will.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Want the car, sir? Setting in for a wet night!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, thanks."</p> -<p class="pnext">It was a lie. He did want the car. He wanted -the car so that he might ride right away into a new -and more interesting world, or at any rate into -Hanbridge, centre of the pleasures, the wickedness, -and the commerce of the Five Towns. But he -dared not have the car. He dared not have his -own car. He must slip off, noiseless and unassuming. -Even to go to Dr. Stirling's he dared not -have the car. Besides, he could have walked down -the hill to Dr. Stirling's in three minutes. Not that -he had the least intention of going to Dr. Stirling's. -No! His wife imagined that he was going; but she -was mistaken. Within an hour, when Dr. Stirling -had failed to arrive, she would doubtless telephone, -and get her Dr. Stirling. Not, however, with -Edward Henry's assistance!</p> -<p class="pnext">He reviewed his conduct throughout the evening. -In what particular had it been sinful? In no -particular. True, the accident to the boy was a -misfortune, but had he not borne that misfortune -lightly, minimised it, and endeavoured to teach -others to bear it lightly? His blithe humour ought -surely to have been an example to Nellie! And as -for the episode of the funeral march on the -"Pianisto," really, really, the tiresome little thing -ought to have better appreciated his whimsical -drollery!</p> -<p class="pnext">But Nellie was altered; he was altered; -everything was altered. He remembered the ecstasy of -their excursion to Switzerland. He remembered -the rapture with which, on their honeymoon, he -had clasped a new opal bracelet on her exciting arm. -He could not possibly have such sensations now. -What was the meaning of life? Was life worth -living? The fact was, he was growing old. -Useless to pretend to himself that it was not so. Both -he and she were growing old. Only, she seemed -to be placidly content, and he was not content. -And more and more the domestic atmosphere and -the atmosphere of the district fretted and even -annoyed him. To-night's affair was not unique, but -it was a culmination. He gazed pessimistically -north and south along the slimy expanse of -Trafalgar Road, which sank northwards in the direction -of Dr. Stirling's, and southwards in the direction -of joyous Hanbridge. He loathed and despised -Trafalgar Road. What was the use of making -three hundred and forty-one pounds by a shrewd -speculation? None. He could not employ three -hundred and forty-one pounds to increase his -happiness. Money had become futile for him. -Astounding thought! He desired no more of it. He -had a considerable income from investments, and -also at least four thousand a year from the Five -Towns Universal Thrift Club, that wonderful but -unpretentious organisation which now embraced -every corner of the Five Towns; that gorgeous -invention for profitably taking care of the pennies of -the working classes; that excellent device, his own, -for selling the working classes every kind of goods -at credit prices after having received part of the -money in advance!</p> -<p class="pnext">"I want a change!" he said to himself, and -threw away his cigar.</p> -<p class="pnext">After all, the bitterest thought in his heart was -perhaps that on that evening he had tried to be a -"card," and, for the first time in his brilliant career -as a "card," had failed. He, Henry Machin, who -had been the youngest mayor of Bursley years and -years ago; he, the recognised amuser of the Five -Towns; he, one of the greatest "characters" that -the Five Towns had ever produced--he had failed -of an effect!</p> -<p class="pnext">He slipped out on to the pavement, and saw, -under the gas-lamp, on the new hoarding of the -football-ground, a poster intimating that during that -particular week there was a gigantic attraction at the -Empire Music Hall at Hanbridge. According to -the posters, there was a gigantic attraction every -week at the Empire, but Edward Henry happened -to know that this week the attraction was indeed -somewhat out of the common. And to-night was -Friday, the fashionable night for the bloods and -the modishness of the Five Towns. He looked at -the church clock, and then at his watch. He would -be in time for the "second house," which started -at nine o'clock. At the same moment an electric -tram-car came thundering up out of Bursley. He -boarded it, and was saluted by the conductor. -Remaining on the platform, he lit a cigarette, and -tried to feel cheerful; but he could not conquer his -depression.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," he thought, "what I want is change--and -a lot of it too!"</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-bank-note">CHAPTER II</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">THE BANK-NOTE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">I.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Alderman Machin had to stand at the -back, and somewhat towards the side, of -that part of the auditorium known as the -Grand Circle at the Empire Music Hall, Hanbridge. -The attendants at the entrance and in the lounge, -where the salutation "Welcome" shone in -electricity over a large Cupid-surrounded mirror, had -compassionately and yet exultingly told him that -there was not a seat left in the house. He had -shared their exultation. He had said to himself, -full of honest pride in the Five Towns: "This -music-hall, admitted by the press to be one of the -finest in the provinces, holds over two thousand five -hundred people. And yet we can fill it to -overflowing twice every night! And only a few years -ago there wasn't a decent music-hall in the entire -district!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The word "progress" flitted through his head.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was not strictly true that the Empire was or -could be filled to overflowing twice every night, but -it was true that at that particular moment not a -seat was unsold; and the aspect of a crowded -auditorium is apt to give an optimistic quality to broad -generalisations. Alderman Machin began instinctively -to calculate the amount of money in the house, -and to wonder whether there would be a chance for -a second music-hall in the dissipated town of -Hanbridge. He also wondered why the idea of a -second music-hall in Hanbridge had never occurred to -him before.</p> -<p class="pnext">The Grand Circle was so-called because it was -grand. Its plush fauteuils cost a shilling, no mean -price for a community where seven pounds of -potatoes can be bought for sixpence, and the view of -the stage therefrom was perfect. But the -alderman's view was far from perfect, since he had to -peer as best he could between and above the -shoulders of several men, each apparently, but not -really, taller than himself. By constant slight -movements to comply with the movements of the -rampart of shoulders, he could discern fragments -of various advertisements of soap, motor-cars, -whisky, shirts, perfume, pills, bricks, and tea, for -the drop-curtain was down. And, curiously, he felt -obliged to keep his eyes on the drop-curtain, and -across the long intervening vista of hats and heads -and smoke, to explore its most difficult corners again -and again, lest, when it went up, he might not be in -proper practice for seeing what was behind it.</p> -<p class="pnext">Nevertheless, despite the marked inconveniences -of his situation, he felt brighter, he felt almost -happy in this dense atmosphere of success. He even -found a certain peculiar and perverse satisfaction in -the fact that he had as yet been recognised by -nobody. Once or twice the owners of shoulders had -turned and deliberately glared at the worrying -fellow who had the impudence to be all the time -peeping over them and between them; they had not -distinguished the fellow from any ordinary fellow. -Could they have known that he was the famous -Alderman Edward Henry Machin, founder and sole -proprietor of the Thrift Club, into which their -wives were probably paying so much a week, they -would most assuredly have glared to another tune, -and they would have said with pride afterwards, -"That chap Machin o' Bursley was standing behind -me at the Empire to-night." And though Machin -is amongst the commonest names in the Five Towns, -all would have known that the great and admired -Denry was meant. It was astonishing that a -personage so notorious should not have been instantly -"spotted" in such a resort as the Empire. More -proof that the Five Towns was a vast and seething -concentration of cities, and no longer a mere district -where everybody knew everybody.</p> -<p class="pnext">The curtain rose, and, as it did so, a thunderous, -crashing applause of greeting broke forth--applause -that thrilled and impressed and inspired; applause -that made every individual in the place feel -right glad that he was there. For the curtain had -risen on the gigantic attraction which many -members of the audience were about to see for the -fifth time that week; in fact, it was rumoured that -certain men of fashion, whose habit was to refuse -themselves nothing, had attended every performance -of the gigantic attraction since the second house on -Monday.</p> -<p class="pnext">The scene represented a restaurant of quiet -aspect, into which entered a waiter bearing a pile of -plates some two feet high. The waiter being -intoxicated, the tower of plates leaned this way and -that as he staggered about, and the whole house -really did hold its breath in the simultaneous hope -and fear of an enormous and resounding smash. -Then entered a second intoxicated waiter, also -bearing a pile of plates some two feet high; and the -risk of destruction was thus more than doubled--it -was quadrupled, for each waiter, in addition to -the risks of his own inebriety, was now subject to -the dreadful peril of colliding with the other. -However, there was no catastrophe.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then arrived two customers, one in a dress suit -and an eye-glass, and the other in a large violet -hat, a diamond necklace, and a yellow satin skirt. -The which customers, seemingly well used to the -sight of drunken waiters tottering to and fro with -towers of plates, sat down at a table and waited -calmly for attention. The popular audience, with -that quick mental grasp for which popular -audiences are so renowned, soon perceived that the -table was in close proximity to a lofty sideboard, -and that on either hand of the sideboard were two -chairs, upon which the two waiters were trying to -climb in order to deposit their plates on the -top-most shelf of the sideboard. The waiters -successfully mounted the chairs, and successfully lifted -their towers of plates to within half an inch -of the desired shelf, and then the chairs began -to show signs of insecurity. By this time the -audience was stimulated to an ecstasy of -expectation, whose painfulness was only equalled by -its extreme delectability. The sole unmoved -persons in the building were the customers awaiting -attention at the restaurant table.</p> -<p class="pnext">One tower was safely lodged on the shelf. But -was it? It was not! Yes? No! It curved; it -straightened; it curved again. The excitement was -as keen as that of watching a drowning man attempt -to reach the shore. It was simply excruciating. It -could not be borne any longer, and when it could -not be borne any longer, the tower sprawled -irrevocably, and seven dozen plates fell in a cascade -on the violet hat, and so, with an inconceivable -clatter, to the floor. Almost at the same moment -the being in the dress suit and the eye-glass--becoming -aware of the phenomena--slightly unusual -even in a restaurant, dropped his eye-glass, -turned round to the sideboard, and received the -other waiter's seven dozen plates in the face and -on the crown of his head.</p> -<p class="pnext">No such effect had ever been seen in the Five -Towns, and the felicity of the audience exceeded all -previous felicities. The audience yelled, roared, -shrieked, gasped, trembled, and punched itself in a -furious passion of pleasure. They make plates in -the Five Towns. They live by making plates. -They understand plates. In the Five Towns a man -will carry not seven but twenty-seven dozen plates -on a swaying plank for eight hours a day, up steps -and down steps, and in doorways and out of doorways, -and not break one plate in seven years! Judge, -therefore, the simple but terrific satisfaction of a -Five Towns' audience in the hugeness of the -calamity. Moreover, every plate smashed means a -demand for a new plate and increased prosperity -for the Five Towns. The grateful crowd in the -auditorium of the Empire would have covered the -stage with wreaths if it had known that wreaths were -used for other occasions than funerals; which it did -not know.</p> -<p class="pnext">Fresh complications instantly ensued which -cruelly cut short the agreeable exercise of -uncontrolled laughter. It was obvious that one of the -waiters was about to fall. And in the enforced -tranquillity of a new dread, every dyspeptic person -in the house was deliciously conscious of a sudden -freedom from indigestion, due to the agreeable -exercise of uncontrolled laughter, and wished -fervently that he could laugh like that after every meal. -The waiter fell; he fell through the large violet hat -and disappeared beneath the surface of a sea of -crockery. The other waiter fell too, but the sea -was not deep enough to drown a couple of them. -Then the customers, recovering themselves, decided -that they must not be outclassed in this competition -of havoc, and they overthrew the table and everything -on it, and all the other tables, and everything -on all the other tables. The audience was now a -field of artillery which nothing could silence. The -waiters arose, and, opening the sideboard, disclosed -many hundreds of unsuspected plates of all kinds, -ripe for smashing. Niagaras of plates surged on to -the stage. All four performers revelled and -wallowed in smashed plates. New supplies of plates -were constantly being produced from strange -concealments, and finally the tables and chairs were -broken to pieces, and each object on the walls was -torn down and flung in bits on to the gorgeous -general debris, to the top of which clambered the violet -hat, necklace, and yellow petticoat, brandishing one -single little plate, whose life had been miraculously -spared. Shrieks of joy in that little plate played -over the din like lightning in a thunder-storm. And -the curtain fell.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was rung up fifteen times, and fifteen times the -quartette of artists, breathless, bowed in acknowledgment -of the frenzied and boisterous testimony to -their unique talents. No singer, no tragedian, no -comedian, no wit, could have had such a triumph, -could have given such intense pleasure. And yet -none of the four had spoken a word. Such is genius!</p> -<p class="pnext">At the end of the fifteenth call the stage-manager -came before the curtain and guaranteed that two -thousand four hundred plates had been broken.</p> -<p class="pnext">The lights went up. Strong men were seen to be -wiping tears from their eyes. Complete strangers -were seen addressing each other in the manner of -old friends. Such is art!</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, that was worth a bob, that was!" -muttered Edward Henry to himself. And it was. -Edward Henry had not escaped the general fate. -Nobody, being present, could have escaped it. He -was enchanted. He had utterly forgotten every care.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good evening, Mr. Machin," said a voice at his -side. Not only he turned, but nearly every one in -the vicinity turned. The voice was the voice of the -stout and splendid managing director of the Empire, -and it sounded with the ring of authority above the -rising tinkle of the bar behind the Grand Circle.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! How d'ye do, Mr. Dakins?" Edward -Henry held out a cordial hand, for even the greatest -men are pleased to be greeted in a place of entertainment -by the managing director thereof. Further, -his identity was now recognised.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Haven't you seen those gentlemen in that box -beckoning to you?" said Mr. Dakins, proudly -deprecating complimentary remarks on the show.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Which box?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Dakins' hand indicated the stage-box. And -Henry, looking, saw three men, one unknown to -him; the second, Robert Brindley, the architect, of -Bursley; and the third, Dr. Stirling.</p> -<p class="pnext">Instantly his conscience leapt up within him. He -thought of rabies. Yes, sobered in the fraction of a -second, he thought of rabies. Supposing that, after -all, in spite of Mr. Long's muzzling order, as cited -by his infant son, an odd case of rabies should have -lingered in the British Isles, and supposing that -Carlo had been infected! Not impossible! Was -it providential that Dr. Stirling was in the auditorium?</p> -<p class="pnext">"You know two of them?" said Mr. Dakins.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, the third's a Mr. Bryany. He's manager -to Mr. Seven Sachs." Mr. Dakins' tone was respectful.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And who's Mr. Seven Sachs?" asked Edward -Henry absently. It was a stupid question.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was impressively informed that Mr. Seven -Sachs was the arch-famous American actor-playwright, -now nearing the end of a provincial tour -which had surpassed all records of provincial tours, -and that he would be at the Theatre Royal, -Hanbridge, next week. Edward Henry then remembered -that the hoardings had been full of Mr. Seven -Sachs for some time past.</p> -<p class="pnext">"They keep on making signs to you," said Mr. Dakins, -referring to the occupants of the stage-box.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry waved a reply to the box.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here! I'll take you there the shortest way," -said Mr. Dakins.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"Welcome to Stirling's box, Machin!" Robert -Brindley greeted the alderman with an almost -imperceptible wink. Edward Henry had encountered this -wink once or twice before; he could not decide -precisely what it meant; it was apt to make him reflective. -He did not dislike Robert Brindley, his habit was -not to dislike people; he admitted Brindley to be a -clever architect, though he objected to the -"modern" style of the fronts of his houses and schools. -But he did take exception to the man's -attitude towards the Five Towns, of which, by the -way, Brindley was just as much a native as -himself. Brindley seemed to live in the Five Towns -like a highly cultured stranger in a savage land, -and to derive rather too much sardonic amusement -from the spectacle of existence therein. Brindley -was a very special crony of Stirling's, and had -influenced Stirling. But Stirling was too clever to -submit unduly to the influence. Besides, Stirling was -not a native; he was only a Scotchman, and -Edward Henry considered that what Stirling thought -of the district did not matter. Other details about -Brindley which Edward Henry deprecated were his -necktie, which, for Edward Henry's taste, was too -flowing, his scorn of the "Pianisto" (despite the -man's tremendous interest in music), and his -incipient madness on the subject of books--a madness -shared by Stirling. Brindley and the doctor -were forever chattering about books, and buying them.</p> -<p class="pnext">So that, on the whole, Dr. Stirling's box was not -a place where Edward Henry felt entirely at home. -Nevertheless, the two men, having presented -Mr. Bryany, did their best, each in his own way, to make -him feel at home.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Take this chair, Machin," said Stirling, indicating -a chair at the front.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, I can't take the front chair!" Edward -Henry protested.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course you can, my dear Machin," said -Brindley sharply. "The front chair in a stage-box -is the one proper seat in the house for you. Do as -your doctor prescribes."</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry accordingly sat down at the -front, with Mr. Bryany by his side; and the other -two sat behind. But Edward Henry was not quite -comfortable. He faintly resented that speech of -Brindley's. And yet he did feel that what Brindley -had said was true, and he was indeed glad to be in -the front chair of a brilliant stage-box on the grand -tier, instead of being packed away in the nethermost -twilight of the Grand Circle. He wondered how -Brindley and Stirling had managed to distinguish his -face among the confusion of faces in that distant -obscurity; he, Edward Henry, had failed to notice -them, even in the prominence of their box. But -that they had distinguished him showed how -familiar and striking a figure he was. He wondered, -too, why they should have invited him to hobnob -with them. He was not of their set. Indeed, like -many very eminent men, he was not to any degree -in anybody's set. Of one thing he was sure,--because -he had read it on the self-conscious faces of -all three of them,--namely, that they had been -discussing him. Possibly he had been brought up -for Mr. Bryany's inspection as a major lion and -character of the district. Well, he did not mind that; -nay, he enjoyed that. He could feel Mr. Bryany -covertly looking him over. And he thought: -"Look, my boy! I make no charge." He smiled -and nodded to one or two people who with pride -saluted him from the stalls. It was meet that he -should be visible there on that Friday night!</p> -<p class="pnext">"A full house!" he observed, to break the rather -awkward silence of the box, as he glanced round at -the magnificent smoke-veiled pageant of the -aristocracy and the democracy of the Five Towns -crowded together, tier above gilded tier, up to the -dim roof where ragged lads and maids giggled and -flirted while waiting for the broken plates to be -cleared away and the moving pictures to begin.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You may say it!" agreed Mr. Bryany, who -spoke with a very slight American accent. -"Dakins positively hadn't a seat to offer me. I -happened to have the evening free. It isn't often I do -have a free evening. And so I thought I'd pop in -here. But if Dakins hadn't introduced me to these -gentlemen, my seat would have had to be a standing -one."</p> -<p class="pnext">"So that's how they got to know him, is it?" -thought Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">And then there was another short silence.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Hear you've been doing something striking in -rubber shares, Machin?" said Brindley at length.</p> -<p class="pnext">Astonishing how these things got abroad!</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, very little, very little!" Edward Henry -laughed modestly. "Too late to do much! In -another fortnight the bottom will be all out of the -rubber market!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course I'm an Englishman--" Mr. Bryany began.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why 'of course'?" Edward Henry interrupted him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Hear! Hear! Alderman. Why 'of course'?" -said Brindley approvingly, and Stirling's rich laugh -was heard. "Only it does just happen," Brindley -added, "that Mr. Bryany did us the honour to be -born in the district."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes. Longshaw," Mr. Bryany admitted, half -proud and half apologetic, "which I left at the age -of two."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, Longshaw!" murmured Edward Henry -with a peculiar inflection, which had a distinct -meaning for at least two of his auditors.</p> -<p class="pnext">Longshaw is at the opposite end of the Five -Towns from Bursley, and the majority of the -inhabitants of Bursley have never been to Longshaw -in their lives, have only heard of it, as they hear -of Chicago or Bangkok. Edward Henry had often -been to Longshaw, but, like every visitor from -Bursley, he instinctively regarded it as a foolish and -unnecessary place.</p> -<p class="pnext">"As I was saying," resumed Mr. Bryany, quite -unintimidated, "I'm an Englishman. But I've lived -eighteen years in America, and it seems to me the -bottom will soon be knocked out of pretty nearly -all the markets in England. Look at the Five Towns!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, don't, Mr. Bryany!" said Brindley. -"Don't go to extremes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Personally, I don't mind looking at the Five -Towns," said Edward Henry. "What of it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, did you ever see such people for looking -twice at a five-pound note?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry most certainly did not like this -aspersion on his native district. He gazed in silence -at Mr. Bryany's brassy and yet simple face, and did -not like the face either.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Mr. Bryany, beautifully unaware that he had -failed in tact, continued: "The Five Towns is the -most English place I've ever seen, believe me! Of -course it has its good points, and England has her -good points; but there's no money stirring. There's -no field for speculation on the spot, and as for -outside investment, no Englishman will touch anything -that really is good." He emphasised the last three -words.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What d'ye do yeself, Mr. Bryany?" inquired -Dr. Stirling.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What do I do with my little bit?" cried -Mr. Bryany. "Oh, I know what to do with my little -bit. I can get ten per cent. in Seattle, and twelve -to fifteen in Calgary, on my little bit; and security -just as good as English railway stock--<em class="italics">and</em> better."</p> -<p class="pnext">The theatre was darkened, and the cinematograph -began its reckless twinkling.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany went on offering to Edward Henry, -in a suitably lowered voice, his views on the great -questions of investment and speculation; and -Edward Henry made cautious replies.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And even when there is a good thing going at -home," Mr. Bryany said, in a wounded tone, "what -Englishman'd look at it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I would," said Edward Henry with a blandness -that was only skin-deep, for all the time he was -cogitating the question whether the presence of -Dr. Stirling in the audience ought or ought not to be -regarded as providential.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, I've got the option on a little affair in -London," said Mr. Bryany, while Edward Henry -glanced quickly at him in the darkness, "and can I -get anybody to go into it? I can't."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What sort of a little affair?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Building a theatre in the West End."</p> -<p class="pnext">Even a less impassive man than Edward Henry -would have started at the coincidence of this -remark. And Edward Henry started. Twenty -minutes ago he had been idly dreaming of theatrical -speculation, and now he could almost see theatrical -speculation shimmering before him in the pale -shifting rays of the cinematograph that cut through the -gloom of the mysterious auditorium.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" And in this new interest he forgot the -enigma of the ways of Providence.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course, you know, I'm in the business," said -Mr. Bryany. "I'm Seven Sachs's manager." It -was as if he owned and operated Mr. Seven Sachs.</p> -<p class="pnext">"So I heard," said Edward Henry, and then -remarked with mischievous cordiality: "And I -suppose these chaps told you I was the sort of man you -were after. And you got them to ask me in, eh, Mr. Bryany?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany gave an uneasy laugh, but seemed to -find naught to say.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, what is your little affair?" Edward Henry -encouraged him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, I can't tell you now," said Mr. Bryany. -"It would take too long. The thing has to be explained."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, what about to-morrow?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have to leave for London by the first train in -the morning."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, some other time?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"After to-morrow will be too late."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, what about to-night?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"The fact is, I've half promised to go with -Dr. Stirling to some club or other after the show. -Otherwise we might have had a quiet confidential chat in -my rooms over the Turk's Head. I never -dreamt--" Mr. Bryany was now as melancholy as -a greedy lad who regards rich fruit at arm's length -through a plate-glass window, and he had ceased to -be patronising.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll soon get rid of Stirling for you," said -Edward Henry, turning instantly towards the doctor. -The ways of Providence had been made plain to -Edward Henry. "I say, Doc!" But the Doctor -and Brindley were in conversation with another man -at the open door of the box.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What is it?" said Stirling.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've come to fetch you. You're wanted at my place."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, you're a caution!" said Stirling.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why am I a caution?" Edward Henry smoothly -protested. "I didn't tell you before because I -didn't want to spoil your fun."</p> -<p class="pnext">Stirling's mien was not happy.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Did they tell you I was here?" he asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd almost think so, wouldn't you?" said -Edward Henry in a playful, enigmatic tone. After -all, he decided privately, his wife was right: it was -better that Stirling should see the infant. And -there was also this natural human thought in his -mind: he objected to the doctor giving an entire -evening to diversions away from home; he -considered that a doctor, when not on a round of visits, -ought to be forever in his consulting-room, ready -for a sudden call of emergency. It was monstrous -that Stirling should have proposed, after an -escapade at the music-hall, to spend further hours with -chance acquaintances in vague clubs! Half the -town might fall sick and die while the doctor was -vainly amusing himself. Thus the righteous -layman in Edward Henry!</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's the matter?" asked Stirling.</p> -<p class="pnext">"My eldest's been rather badly bitten by a dog, -and the missis wants it cauterized."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Really?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, you bet she does!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Where's the bite?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"In the calf."</p> -<p class="pnext">The other man at the door having departed, -Robert Brindley abruptly joined the conversation at -this point.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I suppose you've heard of that case of hydrophobia -at Bleakridge?" said Brindley.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry's heart jumped.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I haven't," he said anxiously. "What is it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He gazed at the white blur of Brindley's face in -the darkened box, and he could hear the rapid -clicking of the cinematograph behind him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Didn't you see it in the <em class="italics">Signal</em>?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Neither did I," said Brindley.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the same moment the moving pictures came -to an end, the theatre was filled with light, and the -band began to play, "God Save the King." Brindley -and Stirling were laughing. And indeed, -Brindley had scored, this time, over the unparalleled -card of the Five Towns.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I make you a present of that," said Edward -Henry. "But my wife's most precious infant has -to be cauterized, Doctor," he added firmly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Got your car here?" Stirling questioned.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No. Have you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, there's the tram. I'll follow you later. -I've some business round this way. Persuade my -wife not to worry, will you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">And when a discontented Dr. Stirling had made -his excuses and adieux to Mr. Bryany, and Robert -Brindley had decided that he could not leave his -crony to travel by tram-car alone, and the two men -had gone, then Edward Henry turned to Mr. Bryany:</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's how I get rid of the doctor, you see."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But <em class="italics">has</em> your child been bitten by a dog?" asked -Mr. Bryany, acutely perplexed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd almost think so, wouldn't you?" Edward -Henry replied, carefully non-committal. "What -price going to the Turk's Head now?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He remembered with satisfaction, and yet with -misgiving, a remark made to him, a judgment -passed on him, by a very old woman very many -years before. This discerning hag, the Widow -Hullins by name, had said to him briefly, "Well, -you're a queer 'un!"</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">III.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Within five minutes he was following Mr. Bryany -into a small parlour on the first floor of the -Turk's Head, a room with which he had no previous -acquaintance, though, like most industrious men of -affairs in metropolitan Hanbridge, he reckoned to -know something about the Turk's Head. Mr. Bryany -turned up the gas (the Turk's Head took -pride in being a "hostelry," and, while it had -accustomed itself to incandescent mantles on the -ground floor, it had not yet conquered a natural -distaste for electricity) and Edward Henry saw a -smart despatch-box, a dress suit, a trouser-stretcher, -and other necessaries of theatrical business life at -large in the apartment.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've never seen this room before," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Take your overcoat off and sit down, will you?" -said Mr. Bryany as he turned to replenish the fire -from a bucket. "It's my private sitting-room. -Whenever I am on my travels, I always take a -private sitting-room. It pays, you know. Of course -I mean if I'm alone. When I'm looking after -Mr. Sachs, of course we share a sitting-room."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry agreed lightly:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I suppose so."</p> -<p class="pnext">But the fact was that he was much impressed. -He himself had never taken a private sitting-room -in any hotel. He had sometimes felt the desire, but -he had not had the "face," as they say down there, -to do it. To take a private sitting-room in a hotel -was generally regarded in the Five Towns as the -very summit of dashing expensiveness and futile -luxury.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I didn't know they had private sitting-rooms -in this shanty," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany, having finished with the fire, fronted -him, shovel in hand, with a remarkable air of -consummate wisdom, and replied:</p> -<p class="pnext">"You can generally get what you want if you -insist on having it, even in this 'shanty.'"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry regretted his use of the word -"shanty." Inhabitants of the Five Towns may -allow themselves to twit the historic and excellent -Turk's Head, but they do not extend the privilege -to strangers. And in justice to the Turk's Head, -it is to be clearly stated that it did no more to cow -and discourage travellers than any other provincial -hotel in England. It was a sound and serious English -provincial hotel; and it linked century to century.</p> -<p class="pnext">Said Mr. Bryany:</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Merica's the place for hotels."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, I expect it is."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Been to Chicago?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I haven't."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany, as he removed his overcoat, could -be seen politely forbearing to raise his eyebrows.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course you've been to New York?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry would have given all he had in -his pockets to be able to say that he had been to -New York, but, by some inexplicable negligence, he -had hitherto omitted to go to New York, and, being -a truthful person, except in the gravest crises, he -was obliged to answer miserably:</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I haven't."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany gazed at him with amazement and -compassion, apparently staggered by the discovery -that there existed in England a man of the world -who had contrived to struggle on for forty years -without perfecting his education by a visit to New York.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry could not tolerate Mr. Bryany's -look. It was a look which he had never been able -to tolerate on the features of anybody whatsoever. -He reminded himself that his secret object in -accompanying Mr. Bryany to the Turk's Head was to -repay Mr. Bryany--in what coin he knew not yet--for -the aspersions which at the music-hall he had -cast upon England in general and upon the Five -Towns in particular, and also to get revenge for -having been tricked into believing, even for a -moment, that there was really a case of hydrophobia -at Bleakridge. It is true that Mr. Bryany was -innocent of this deception, which had been -accomplished by Robert Brindley, but that was a detail -which did not trouble Edward Henry, who lumped -his grievances together--for convenience.</p> -<p class="pnext">He had been reflecting that some sentimental -people, unused to the ways of paternal affection in the -Five Towns, might consider him a rather callous -father; he had been reflecting, again, that Nellie's -suggestion of blood-poisoning might not be as -entirely foolish as feminine suggestions in such -circumstances too often are. But now he put these -thoughts away, reassuring himself against -hydrophobia anyhow, by the recollection of the definite -statement of the Encyclopedia. Moreover, had he -not inspected the wound--as healthy a wound as -you could wish for?</p> -<p class="pnext">And he said in a new tone, very curtly:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, Mr. Bryany, what about this little affair -of yours?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He saw that Mr. Bryany accepted the implied -rebuke with the deference properly shown by a man -who needs something towards the man in possession -of what he needs. And studying the fellow's -countenance, he decided that, despite its brassiness -and simple cunning, it was scarcely the countenance -of a rascal.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, it's like this," said Mr. Bryany, sitting -down opposite Edward Henry at the centre table, -and reaching with obsequious liveliness for the -despatch-box.</p> -<p class="pnext">He drew from the despatch-box, which was lettered -"W.C.B.," first a cut-glass flask of whisky, -with a patent stopper, and then a spacious box of -cigarettes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I always travel with the right sort," he -remarked, holding the golden liquid up to the light. -"It's safer, and it saves any trouble with orders -after closing-time. These English hotels, you -know--!"</p> -<p class="pnext">So saying, he dispensed whisky and cigarettes, -there being a siphon and glasses, and three matches -in a match-stand, on the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here's looking!" he said, with raised glass.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry responded, in conformity -with the changeless ritual of the Five Towns:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I looks!"</p> -<p class="pnext">And they sipped.</p> -<p class="pnext">Whereupon Mr. Bryany next drew from the -despatch-box a piece of transparent paper.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I want you to look at this plan of Piccadilly -Circus and environs," said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now there is a Piccadilly in Hanbridge; also a -Pall Mall, and a Chancery Lane. The adjective -"metropolitan," applied to Hanbridge is just.</p> -<p class="pnext">"London?" questioned Edward Henry. "I -understood London when we were chatting over -there." With his elbow he indicated the -music-hall, somewhere vaguely outside the room.</p> -<p class="pnext">"London," said Mr. Bryany.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry thought:</p> -<p class="pnext">"What on earth am I meddling with London for? -What use should I be in London?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You see the plot marked in red?" Mr. Bryany -proceeded. "Well, that's the site. There's an old -chapel on it now."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What do all these straight lines mean?" -Edward Henry inquired, examining the plan. Lines -radiated from the red plot in various directions.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Those are the lines of vision," said Mr. Bryany. -"They show just where an electric sign at the -corner of the front of the proposed theatre could -be seen from. You notice the site is not in the -Circus itself--a shade to the north." Mr. Bryany's -finger approached Edward Henry's on the -plan and the clouds from their cigarettes fraternally -mingled. "Now you see by those lines that the -electric sign of the proposed theatre would be visible -from nearly the whole of Piccadilly Circus, parts -of Lower Regent Street, Coventry Street, and even -Shaftesbury Avenue. You see what a site it -is--absolutely unique."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry asked coldly:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Have you bought it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," Mr. Bryany seemed to apologise, "I -haven't exactly bought it; but I've got an option on it."</p> -<p class="pnext">The magic word "option" wakened the drowsy -speculator in Edward Henry. And the mere act -of looking at the plan endowed the plot of land with -reality. There it was. It existed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"An option to buy it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You can't buy land in the West End of London," -said Mr. Bryany sagely. "You can only -lease it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, of course," Edward Henry concurred.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The freehold belongs to Lord Woldo, now -aged six months."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Really!" murmured Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've got an option to take up the remainder of -the lease, with sixty-four years to run, on the -condition I put up a theatre. And the option expires in -exactly a fortnight's time."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry frowned, and then asked:</p> -<p class="pnext">"What are the figures?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"That is to say," Mr. Bryany corrected himself, -smiling courteously, "I've got half the option."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And who's got the other half?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Rose Euclid's got the other half."</p> -<p class="pnext">At the mention of the name of one of the most -renowned star actresses in England, Edward Henry -excusably started.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not <em class="italics">the</em>--?" he exclaimed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany nodded proudly, blowing out much smoke.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tell me," asked Edward Henry, confidentially, -leaning forward, "where do those ladies get their -names from?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It happens in this case to be her real name," said -Mr. Bryany. "Her father kept a tobacconists' -shop in Cheapside. The sign was kept up for many -years, until Rose paid to have it changed."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, well!" breathed Edward Henry, secretly -thrilled by these extraordinary revelations. "And -so you and she have got it between you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I bought half of it from her some time ago. -She was badly hard up for a hundred pounds, and I -let her have the money." He threw away his -cigarette half-smoked, with a free gesture that -seemed to imply that he was capable of parting with -a hundred pounds just as easily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How did she <em class="italics">get</em> the option?" Edward Henry -inquired, putting into the query all the innuendo of -a man accustomed to look at great worldly affairs -from the inside.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How did she get it? She got it from the late -Lord Woldo. She was always very friendly with -the late Lord Woldo, you know." Edward Henry -nodded. "Why, she and the Countess of Chell -are as thick as thieves! You know something about -the countess down here, I reckon?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The Countess of Chell was the wife of the -supreme local magnate.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry answered calmly, "We do."</p> -<p class="pnext">He was tempted to relate a unique adventure of -his youth, when he had driven the countess to a -public meeting in his mule-carriage; but sheer pride -kept him silent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I asked you for the figures," he added in a -manner which requested Mr. Bryany to remember -that he was the founder, chairman, and proprietor -of the Five Towns Universal Thrift Club, one of -the most successful business organisations in the -Midlands.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here they are," said Mr. Bryany, passing across -the table a sheet of paper.</p> -<p class="pnext">And as Edward Henry studied them he could -hear Mr. Bryany faintly cooing into his ear: "Of -course Rose got the ground-rent reduced. And -when I tell you that the demand for theatres in the -West End far exceeds the supply, and that theatre -rents are always going up; when I tell you that a -theatre costing £25,000 to build can be let for -£11,000 a year, and often £300 a week on a short -term--" And he could hear the gas singing over -his head; and also, unhappily, he could hear -Dr. Stirling talking to his wife and saying to her that -the bite was far more serious than it looked, and -Nellie hoping very audibly that nothing had -"happened" to him, her still absent husband. And then -he could hear Mr. Bryany again:</p> -<p class="pnext">"When I tell you--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"When you tell me all this, Mr. Bryany," he -interrupted with the ferocity which in the Five -Towns is regarded as mere directness, "I wonder -why the devil you want to sell your half of the option -if you <em class="italics">do</em> want to sell it. Do you want to sell it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"To tell you the truth," said Mr. Bryany as if -up to that moment he had told naught but lies, "I do."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, I'm always travelling about, you see. -England one day, America the next." Apparently he -had quickly abandoned the strictness of veracity. -"All depends on the governor's movements. I -couldn't keep a proper eye on an affair of that kind."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry laughed:</p> -<p class="pnext">"And could I?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Chance for you to go a bit oftener to London," -said Mr. Bryany, laughing too. Then, with -extreme and convincing seriousness, "You're the very -man for a thing of that kind. And you know it."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry was not displeased by this flattery.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How much?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"How much? Well, I told you frankly what I -paid. I made no concealment of that, did I now? -Well, I want what I paid. It's worth it!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Got a copy of the option, I hope!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany produced a copy of the option.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am nothing but an infernal ass to mix -myself up in a mad scheme like this," said Edward -Henry to his soul, perusing the documents. "It's -right off my line, right bang off it. But what a -lark!" But even to his soul he did not utter the remainder -of the truth about himself, namely, "I should like -to cut a dash before this insufferable patroniser of -England and the Five Towns."</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly something snapped within him, and he -said to Mr. Bryany:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm on!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Those words and no more!</p> -<p class="pnext">"You are?" Mr. Bryany exclaimed, mistrusting -his ears.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry nodded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, that's business anyway," said Mr. Bryany, -taking a fresh cigarette and lighting it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's how we do business down here," said Edward -Henry, quite inaccurately; for it was not in -the least how they did business down there.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany asked, with a rather obvious anxiety:</p> -<p class="pnext">"But when can you pay?</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, I'll send you a cheque in a day or two." And -Edward Henry in his turn took a fresh cigarette.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That won't do! That won't do!" cried Mr. Bryany. -"I absolutely must have the money to-morrow -morning in London. I can sell the option -in London for eighty pounds, I know that."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You must have it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Must!"</p> -<p class="pnext">They exchanged glances. And Edward Henry, -rapidly acquiring new knowledge of human nature -on the threshold of a world strange to him, -understood that Mr. Bryany, with his private sitting-room -and his investments in Seattle and Calgary, was at -his wits' end for a bag of English sovereigns, and -had trusted to some chance encounter to save him -from a calamity. And his contempt for Mr. Bryany -was that of a man to whom his bankers are -positively servile.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here," Mr. Bryany almost shouted, "don't -light your cigarette with my option!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I beg pardon," Edward Henry apologised, -dropping the document which he had creased into a -spill. There were no matches left on the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll find you a match."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's of no consequence," said Edward Henry, -feeling in his pockets. Having discovered therein -a piece of paper, he twisted it and rose to put it to -the gas.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Could you slip round to your bank and meet me -at the station in the morning with the cash?" -suggested Mr. Bryany.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I couldn't," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, then, what--?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here, you'd better take this," the Card, reborn, -soothed his host, and, blowing out the spill which -he had just ignited at the gas, he offered it to -Mr. Bryany.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"This, man!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany, observing the peculiarity of the spill, -seized it and unrolled it, not without a certain agitation.</p> -<p class="pnext">He stammered:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you mean to say it's genuine?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd almost think so, wouldn't you?" said -Edward Henry. He was growing fond of this reply, -and of the enigmatic playful tone that he had -invented for it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"We may, as you say, look twice at a fiver," -continued Edward Henry, "but we're apt to be careless -about hundred-pound notes in this district. I -daresay that's why I always carry one."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But it's burnt!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Only just the edge, not enough to harm it. If -any bank in England refuses it, return it to me, and -I'll give you a couple more in exchange. Is that -talking?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I'm dashed!" Mr. Bryany attempted -to rise, and then subsided back into his chair. "I -am simply and totally dashed!" He smiled -weakly, hysterically.</p> -<p class="pnext">And in that instant Edward Henry felt all the -sweetness of a complete and luscious revenge.</p> -<p class="pnext">He said commandingly:</p> -<p class="pnext">"You must sign me a transfer. I'll dictate it."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he jumped up.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're in a hurry?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am. My wife is expecting me. You -promised to find me a match." Edward Henry -waved the unlit cigarette as a reproach to Mr. Bryany's -imperfect hospitality.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">IV.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The clock of Bleakridge Church, still imperturbably -shining in the night, showed a quarter to one -when he saw it again on his hurried and guilty way -home. The pavements were drying in the fresh -night wind, and he had his overcoat buttoned up to -the neck. He was absolutely solitary in the long, -muddy perspective of Trafalgar Road. He walked -because the last tram-car was already housed in its -shed at the other end of the world, and he walked -quickly because his conscience drove him onwards. -And yet he dreaded to arrive, lest a wound in the -child's leg should have maliciously decided to fester -in order to put him in the wrong. He was now as -apprehensive concerning that wound as Nellie -herself had been at tea-time.</p> -<p class="pnext">But in his mind, above the dark gulf of anxiety, -there floated brighter thoughts. Despite his fears -and his remorse as a father, he laughed aloud in -the deserted street when he remembered Mr. Bryany's -visage of astonishment upon uncreasing the -note. Indubitably, he made a terrific and everlasting -impression upon Mr. Bryany. He was sending -Mr. Bryany out of the Five Towns a different man. -He had taught Mr. Bryany a thing or two. To -what brilliant use had he turned the purely -accidental possession of a hundred-pound note! One -of his finest inspirations--an inspiration worthy of -the great days of his youth! Yes, he had had his -hour that evening, and it had been a glorious one. -Also, it had cost him a hundred pounds, and he did -not care; he would retire to bed with a net gain of -two hundred and forty-one pounds instead of three -hundred and forty-one pounds, that was all.</p> -<p class="pnext">For he did not mean to take up the option. The -ecstasy was cooled now, and he saw clearly that -London and theatrical enterprises therein would not -be suited to his genius. In the Five Towns he was -on his own ground; he was a figure; he was sure of -himself. In London he would be a provincial, with -the diffidence and the uncertainty of a provincial. -Nevertheless, London seemed to be summoning him -from afar off, and he dreamt agreeably of London -as one dreams of the impossible East.</p> -<p class="pnext">As soon as he opened the gate in the wall of his -property, he saw that the drawing-room was -illuminated and all the other front rooms in darkness. -Either his wife or his mother, then, was sitting up -in the drawing-room. He inserted a cautious -latch-key into the door, and entered the silent home like -a sinner. The dim light in the hall gravely -reproached him. All his movements were modest -and restrained; no noisy rattling of his stick now.</p> -<p class="pnext">The drawing-room door was slightly ajar. He -hesitated, and then, nerving himself, pushed against it.</p> -<p class="pnext">Nellie, with lowered head, was seated at a table, -mending, the image of tranquillity and soft resignation. -A pile of children's garments lay by her side, -but the article in her busy hands appeared to be an -undershirt of his own. None but she ever -reinforced the buttons on his linen. Such was her -wifely rule, and he considered that there was no sense in -it. She was working by the light of a single lamp -on the table, the splendid chandelier being out of -action. Her economy in the use of electricity was -incurable, and he considered that there was no sense -in that either.</p> -<p class="pnext">She glanced up with a guarded expression that -might have meant anything.</p> -<p class="pnext">He said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Aren't you trying your eyes?"</p> -<p class="pnext">And she replied:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, no!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Then, plunging, he came to the point:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, doctor been here?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She nodded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What does he say?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's quite all right. He did nothing but cover -up the place with a bit of cyanide gauze."</p> -<p class="pnext">Instantly, in his own esteem, he regained perfection -as a father. Of course the bite was nothing! -Had he not said so from the first? Had he not been -quite sure throughout that the bite was nothing?</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then why did you sit up?" he asked, and there -was a faint righteous challenge in his tone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I was anxious about you. I was afraid--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Didn't Stirling tell you I had some business?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I forget--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I told him to, anyhow--important business."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It must have been," said Nellie in an inscrutable -voice.</p> -<p class="pnext">She rose and gathered together her paraphernalia, -and he saw that she was wearing the damnable white -apron. The close atmosphere of the home enveloped -and stifled him once more. How different was -this exasperating interior from the large jolly -freedom of the Empire Music Hall, and from the -whisky, cigarettes, and masculinity of that private -room at the Turk's Head!</p> -<p class="pnext">"It was!" he repeated grimly and resentfully. -"Very important! And I'll tell you another thing, -I shall probably have to go to London."</p> -<p class="pnext">He said this just to startle her.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It will do you all the good in the world," she -replied angelically, but unstartled. "It's just what -you need." And she gazed at him as though his -welfare and felicity were her sole preoccupation.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I meant I might have to stop there quite a -while," he insisted.</p> -<p class="pnext">"If you ask me," she said, "I think it would do -us all good."</p> -<p class="pnext">So saying she retired, having expressed no -curiosity whatever as to the nature of the very -important business in London.</p> -<p class="pnext">For a moment, left alone, he was at a loss. Then, -snorting, he went to the table and extinguished the -lamp. He was now in darkness. The light in the -hall showed him the position of the door.</p> -<p class="pnext">He snorted again. "Oh, very well then!" he -muttered. "If that's it! I'm hanged if I don't -go to London! I'm hanged if I don't go to London!"</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="wilkins-s">CHAPTER III</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">WILKINS'S</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">I.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The early adventures of Alderman Machin -of Bursley at Wilkins' Hotel, London, -were so singular and to him so refreshing -that they must be recounted in some detail.</p> -<p class="pnext">He went to London by the morning express from -Knype, on the Monday week after his visit to the -music-hall. In the meantime he had had some -correspondence with Mr. Bryany, more poetic than -precise, about the option, and had informed -Mr. Bryany that he would arrive in London several days -before the option expired. But he had not given a -definite date. The whole affair, indeed, was -amusingly vague; and, despite his assurances to his wife -that the matter was momentous, he did not regard -his trip to London as a business trip at all, but rather -as a simple freakish change of air. The one -certain item in the whole situation was that he had in -his pocket a quite considerable sum of actual money, -destined--he hoped but was not sure--to take up -the option at the proper hour.</p> -<p class="pnext">Nellie, impeccable to the last, accompanied him -in the motor to Knype, the main-line station. The -drive, superficially pleasant, was in reality very -disconcerting to him. For nine days the household had -talked in apparent cheerfulness of Father's visit to -London, as though it were an occasion for joy on -Father's behalf, tempered by affectionate sorrow for -his absence. The official theory was that all was for -the best in the best of all possible homes, and this -theory was admirably maintained. And yet everybody -knew--even to Maisie--that it was not so; -everybody knew that the master and the mistress of -the home, calm and sweet as was their demeanour, -were contending in a terrific silent and mysterious -altercation, which in some way was connected with -the visit to London. So far as Edward Henry was -concerned, he had been hoping for some decisive -event--a tone, gesture, glance, pressure--during -the drive to Knype, which offered the last chance of -a real concord. No such event occurred. They -conversed with the same false cordiality as had -marked their relations since the evening of the -dog-bite. On that evening Nellie had suddenly -transformed herself into a distressingly perfect angel, -and not once had she descended from her high -estate. At least daily she had kissed him--what -kisses! Kisses that were not kisses! Tasteless -mockeries, like non-alcoholic ale! He could have -killed her, but he could not put a finger on a fault -in her marvellous wifely behaviour; she would have -died victorious.</p> -<p class="pnext">So that his freakish excursion was not starting -very auspiciously. And, waiting with her for the -train on the platform at Knype, he felt this more -and more. His old clerk Penkethman was there to -receive certain final instructions on Thrift Club -matters, and the sweetness of Nellie's attitude towards -the ancient man, and the ancient's man's naïve -pleasure therein, positively maddened Edward Henry. -To such an extent that he began to think: "Is she -going to spoil my trip for me?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Then Brindley came up. Brindley, too, was going -to London. And Nellie's saccharine assurances -to Brindley that Edward Henry really needed a -change just about completed Edward Henry's -desperation. Not even the uproarious advent of two -jolly wholesale grocers, Messieurs Garvin and -Quorrall, also going to London, could effectually lighten -his pessimism.</p> -<p class="pnext">When the train steamed in, Edward Henry, in -fear, postponed the ultimate kiss as long as -possible. He allowed Brindley to climb before him into -the second-class compartment, and purposely tarried -in finding change for the porter; and then he turned -to Nellie, and stooped. She raised her white veil -and raised the angelic face. They kissed,--the -same false kiss,--and she was withdrawing her lips. -But suddenly she put them again to his for one -second, with a hysterical clinging pressure. It was -nothing. Nobody could have noticed it. She -herself pretended that she had not done it. Edward -Henry had to pretend not to notice it. But to him -it was everything. She had relented. She had -surrendered. The sign had come from her. She -wished him to enjoy his visit to London.</p> -<p class="pnext">He said to himself:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Dashed if I don't write to her every day!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He leaned out of the window as the train rolled -away, and waved and smiled to her, not concealing -his sentiments now; nor did she conceal hers as she -replied with exquisite pantomime to his signals. -But if the train had not been rapidly and infallibly -separating them, the reconciliation could scarcely -have been thus open. If for some reason the train -had backed into the station and ejected its passengers, -those two would have covered up their feelings -again in an instant. Such is human nature in the -Five Towns.</p> -<p class="pnext">When Edward Henry withdrew his head into the -compartment, Brindley and Mr. Garvin, the latter -standing at the corridor door, observed that his -spirits had shot up in the most astonishing manner, -and in their blindness they attributed the -phenomenon to Edward Henry's delight in a temporary -freedom from domesticity.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Garvin had come from the neighbouring -compartment, which was first-class, to suggest a game -at bridge. Messieurs Garvin and Quorrall -journeyed to London once a week and sometimes -oftener, and, being traders, they had special -season-tickets. They travelled first-class because their -special season-tickets were first-class. Brindley said -that he didn't mind a game, but that he had not the -slightest intention of paying excess fare for the -privilege. Mr. Garvin told him to come along and -trust in Messieurs Garvin and Quorrall. Edward -Henry, not nowadays an enthusiastic card-player, -enthusiastically agreed to join the hand, and announced -that he did not care if he paid forty excess fares. -Whereupon Robert Brindley grumbled enviously -that it was "all very well for millionaires..." They -followed Mr. Garvin into the first-class -compartment; and it soon appeared that Messrs. Garvin -and Quorrall did in fact own the train, and that -the London and North Western Railway was no -more than their wash-pot.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bring us a cushion from somewhere, will ye?" -said Mr. Quorrall casually to a ticket-collector who -entered.</p> -<p class="pnext">And the resplendent official obeyed. The long -cushion, rapt from another compartment, was placed -on the knees of the quartette, and the game began. -The ticket-collector examined the tickets of -Brindley and Edward Henry, and somehow failed to -notice that they were of the wrong colour. And -at this proof of their influential greatness, -Messieurs Garvin and Quorrall were both secretly -proud.</p> -<p class="pnext">The last rubber finished in the neighbourhood of -Willesden, and Edward Henry, having won eighteen -pence halfpenny, was exuberantly content, for -Messrs. Garvin, Quorrall, and Brindley were all -renowned card-players. The cushion was thrown -away, and a fitful conversation occupied the few -remaining minutes of the journey.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Where do you put up?" Brindley asked Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Majestic," said Edward Henry. "Where do you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! Kingsway, I suppose."</p> -<p class="pnext">The Majestic and the Kingsway were two of the -half-dozen very large and very mediocre hotels in -London which, from causes which nobody, and -especially no American, has ever been able to discover, -are particularly affected by Midland provincials "on -the jaunt." Both had an immense reputation in -the Five Towns.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was nothing new to say about the -Majestic and the Kingsway, and the talk flagged until -Mr. Quorrall mentioned Seven Sachs. The mighty -Seven Sachs, in his world-famous play, "Overheard," -had taken precedence of all other topics in the Five -Towns during the previous week. He had -crammed the theatre and half emptied the Empire -Music Hall for six nights; a wonderful feat. -Incidentally, his fifteen hundredth appearance in -"Overheard" had taken place in the Five Towns, -and the Five Towns had found in this fact a peculiar -satisfaction, as though some deep merit had thereby -been acquired or rewarded. Seven Sachs's tour was -now closed, and on the Sunday he had gone to -London, en route for America.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I heard <em class="italics">he</em> stops at Wilkins's," said Mr. Garvin.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Wilkins's your grandmother!" Brindley essayed -to crush Mr. Garvin.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't say he <em class="italics">does</em> stop at Wilkins's," said -Mr. Garvin, an individual not easy to crush, "I only say -I heard as he did."</p> -<p class="pnext">"They wouldn't have him!" Brindley insisted firmly.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Quorrall at any rate seemed tacitly to agree -with Brindley. The august name of Wilkins's was -in its essence so exclusive that vast numbers of fairly -canny provincials had never heard of it. Ask ten -well-informed provincials which is the first hotel in -London, and nine of them would certainly reply, -the Grand Babylon. Not that even wealthy -provincials from the industrial districts are in the habit -of staying at the Grand Babylon! No! Edward -Henry, for example, had never stayed at the Grand -Babylon, no more than he had ever bought a -first-class ticket on a railroad. The idea of doing so -had scarcely occurred to him. There are certain -ways of extravagant smartness which are not -considered to be good form among solid wealthy -provincials. Why travel first-class (they argue), when -second is just as good and no one can tell the -difference once you get out of the train? Why ape -the tricks of another stratum of society? They like -to read about the dinner-parties and supper-parties -at the Grand Babylon; but they are not emulous, and -they do not imitate. At their most adventurous they -would lunch or dine in the neutral region of the -grill-room at the Grand Babylon. As for Wilkins's, -in Devonshire Square, which is infinitely better -known among princes than in the Five Towns, and -whose name is affectionately pronounced with a -"V" by half the monarchs of Europe, few -industrial provincials had ever seen it. The class -which is the back-bone of England left it serenely -alone to royalty and the aristocratic parasites of -royalty.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't see why they shouldn't have him," said -Edward Henry, as he lifted a challenging nose in -the air.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Perhaps you don't, Alderman!" said Brindley.</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">I</em> wouldn't mind going to Wilkins's," Edward -Henry persisted.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'd like to see you," said Brindley, with curt -scorn.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry, "I'll bet you a -fiver I do." Had he not won eighteen pence -half-penny? And was he not securely at peace with his -wife?</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't bet fivers," said the cautious Brindley. -"But I'll bet you half a crown."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Done!" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"When will you go?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Either to-day or to-morrow. I must go to the -Majestic first, because I've ordered a room and so -on."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ha!" hurled Brindley, as if to insinuate that -Edward Henry was seeking to escape from the -consequences of his boast.</p> -<p class="pnext">And yet he ought to have known Edward Henry. -He did know Edward Henry. And he hoped to -lose his half-crown. On his face and on the faces -of the other two was the cheerful admission that -tales of the doings of Alderman Machin, the great -local card, at Wilkins's--if he succeeded in -getting in--would be cheap at half a crown.</p> -<p class="pnext">Porters cried out "Euston!"</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was rather late in the afternoon when Edward -Henry arrived in front of the façade of Wilkins's. -He came in a taxicab, and though the distance from -the Majestic to Wilkins's is not more than a couple -of miles, and he had had nothing else to preoccupy -him after lunch, he had spent some three hours in -the business of transferring himself from the portals -of the one hotel to the portals of the other. Two -hours and three-quarters of this period of time had -been passed in finding courage merely to start. -Even so, he had left his luggage behind him. He -said to himself that, first of all, he would go and spy -out Wilkins's; in the perilous work of scouting he -rightly wished to be unhampered by impedimenta; -moreover, in case of repulse or accident, he must have -a base of operations upon which he could retreat -in good order.</p> -<p class="pnext">He now looked on Wilkins's for the first time in -his life; and he was even more afraid of it than he -had been while thinking about it in the vestibule of -the Majestic. It was not larger than the Majestic; -it was perhaps smaller; it could not show more -terra cotta, plate glass, and sculptured cornice than -the Majestic. But it had a demeanour ... and -it was in a square which had a demeanour.... -In every window-sill--not only of the hotel, but of -nearly every mighty house in the square--there -were boxes of bright-blooming flowers. These he -could plainly distinguish in the October dusk, and -they were a wonderful phenomenon--say what you -will about the mildness of that particular October! -A sublime tranquillity reigned over the scene. A -liveried keeper was locking the gate of the garden -in the middle of the square as if potentates had just -quitted it and rendered it forever sacred. And -between the sacred shadowed grove and the inscrutable -fronts of the stately houses, there flitted automobiles -of the silent and expensive kind, driven by chauffeurs -in pale grey or dark purple, who reclined as they -steered, and who were supported on their left sides -by footmen who reclined as they contemplated the -grandeur of existence.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry's taxicab in that square seemed -like a homeless cat that had strayed into a dog-show.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the exact instant when the taxicab came to rest -under the massive portico of Wilkins's, a chamberlain -in white gloves bravely soiled the gloves by -seizing the vile brass handle of its door. He bowed -to Edward Henry, and assisted him to alight on to -a crimson carpet. The driver of the taxi glanced -with pert and candid scorn at the chamberlain, but -Edward Henry looked demurely aside, and then in -abstraction mounted the broad carpeted steps.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What about poor little me?" cried the driver, -who was evidently a ribald socialist, or at best a -republican.</p> -<p class="pnext">The chamberlain, pained, glanced at Edward -Henry for support and direction in this crisis.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Didn't I tell you I'd keep you?" said Edward -Henry, raised now by the steps above the driver.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Between you and me, you didn't," said the driver.</p> -<p class="pnext">The chamberlain, with an ineffable gesture, wafted -the taxicab away into some limbo appointed for -waiting vehicles.</p> -<p class="pnext">A page opened a pair of doors, and another page -opened another pair of doors, each with -eighteen-century ceremonies of deference, and Edward -Henry stood at length in the hall of Wilkins's. -The sanctuary, then, was successfully defiled, and up -to the present nobody had demanded his credentials! -He took breath.</p> -<p class="pnext">In its physical aspects Wilkins's appeared to him -to resemble other hotels--such as the Majestic. -And so far he was not mistaken. Once Wilkins's -had not resembled other hotels. For many years -it had deliberately refused to recognise that even the -Nineteenth Century had dawned, and its magnificent -antique discomfort had been one of its main -attractions to the elect. For the elect desired -nothing but their own privileged society in order to be -happy in a hotel. A hip bath on a blanket in the -middle of the bedroom floor richly sufficed them, -provided they could be guaranteed against the -calamity of meeting the unelect in the corridors or at -<em class="italics">table d'hôte</em>. But the rising waters of democracy--the -intermixture of classes--had reacted -adversely on Wilkins's. The fall of the Emperor -Maximilian of Mexico had given Wilkins's sad food -for thought long, long ago, and the obvious general -weakening of the monarchical principle had most -considerably shaken it. Came the day when Wilkins's -reluctantly decided that even it could not fight -against the tendency of the whole world, and then, -at one superb stroke, it had rebuilt and brought -itself utterly up-to-date.</p> -<p class="pnext">Thus it resembled other hotels. (Save possibly -in the reticence of its advertisements! The -Majestic would advertise bathrooms as a miracle of -modernity, just as though common dwelling-houses -had not possessed bathrooms for the past thirty -years. Wilkins's had superlative bathrooms, but it -said nothing about them. Wilkins's would as soon -have advertised two hundred bathrooms as two -hundred bolsters; and for the new Wilkins's a bathroom -was not more modern than a bolster.) Also, other -hotels resembled Wilkins's. The Majestic, too, had -a chamberlain at its portico, and an assortment of -pages to prove to its clients that they were incapable -of performing the simplest act for themselves. -Nevertheless, the difference between Wilkins's and -the Majestic was enormous; and yet so subtle was -it that Edward Henry could not immediately detect -where it resided. Then he understood. The -difference between Wilkins's and the Majestic resided -in the theory which underlay its manner. And the -theory was that every person entering its walls was -of royal blood until he had admitted the contrary.</p> -<p class="pnext">Within the hotel it was already night.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry self-consciously crossed the -illuminated hall, which was dotted with fashionable -figures. He knew not whither he was going, until -by chance he saw a golden grille with the word -"Reception" shining over it in letters of gold. -Behind this grille, and still further protected by an -impregnable mahogany counter, stood three young -dandies in attitudes of graceful ease. He -approached them. The fearful moment was upon him. -He had never in his life been so genuinely frightened. -Abject disgrace might be his portion within -the next ten seconds.</p> -<p class="pnext">Addressing himself to the dandy in the middle, he -managed to articulate:</p> -<p class="pnext">"What have you got in the way of rooms?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Could the Five Towns have seen him then, as he -waited, it would hardly have recognised its "card," -its character, its mirror of aplomb and inventive -audacity, in this figure of provincial and plebeian -diffidence.</p> -<p class="pnext">The dandy bowed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you want a suite, sir?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Certainly!" said Edward Henry. Rather too -quickly, rather too defiantly; in fact, rather rudely! -A habitué would not have so savagely hurled back -in the dandy's teeth the insinuation that he wanted -only one paltry room.</p> -<p class="pnext">However, the dandy smiled, accepting with -meekness Edward Henry's sudden arrogance, and -consulted a sort of pentateuch that was open in front -of him.</p> -<p class="pnext">No person in the hall saw Edward Henry's hat -fly up into the air and fall back on his head. But -in the imagination of Edward Henry, that was what -his hat did.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was saved. He would have a proud tale for -Brindley. The thing was as simple as the alphabet. -You just walked in and they either fell on your neck -or kissed your feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">Wilkins's indeed!</p> -<p class="pnext">A very handsome footman, not only in white -gloves but in white calves, was soon supplicating him -to deign to enter a lift. And when he emerged -from the lift another dandy--in a frock-coat of -Paradise--was awaiting him with obeisances. -Apparently it had not yet occurred to anybody that he -was not the younger son of some aged king.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was prayed to walk into a gorgeous suite -consisting of a corridor, a noble drawing-room -(with portrait of His Majesty of Spain on the -walls), a large bedroom with two satinwood beds, -a small bedroom, and a bathroom, all gleaming with -patent devices in porcelain and silver that fully -equalled those at home.</p> -<p class="pnext">Asked if this suite would do, he said it would, -trying as well as he could to imply that he had seen -better. Then the dandy produced a note-book and -a pencil, and impassively waited. The horrid fact -that he was un-elect could no longer be concealed. -"E. H. Machin, Bursley," he said shortly, and -added: "Alderman Machin." After all, why -should he be ashamed of being an alderman?</p> -<p class="pnext">To his astonishment the dandy smiled very -cordially, though always with profound respect.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah, yes!" said the dandy. It was as though he -had said: "We have long wished for the high -patronage of this great reputation." Edward -Henry could make naught of it.</p> -<p class="pnext">His opinion of Wilkins's went down.</p> -<p class="pnext">He followed the departing dandy up the corridor -to the door of the suite in an entirely vain attempt -to enquire the price of the suite per day. Not a -syllable would pass his lips. The dandy bowed and -vanished. Edward Henry stood lost at his own -door, and his wandering eye caught sight of a pile -of trunks near to another door in the main corridor. -These trunks gave him a terrible shock. He shut -out the rest of the hotel and retired into his private -corridor to reflect. He perceived only too plainly -that his luggage, now at the Majestic, never could -come into Wilkins's. It was not fashionable -enough. It lacked elegance. The lounge suit that -he was wearing might serve, but his luggage was -totally impossible. Never before had he imagined -that the aspect of one's luggage could have the least -importance in one's scheme of existence. He was -learning, and he frankly admitted that he was in an -incomparable mess.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">III.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">At the end of an extensive stroll through and -round his new vast domain, he had come to no -decision upon a course of action. Certain details of -the strange adventure pleased him--as for instance -the dandy's welcoming recognition of his name; that, -though puzzling, was a source of comfort to him -in his difficulties. He also liked the suite; nay more, -he was much impressed by its gorgeousness, and -such novel complications as the forked electric -switches, all of which he turned on, and the double -windows, one within the other, appealed to the -domestic expert in him; indeed, he at once had the -idea of doubling the window of the best bedroom -at home; to do so would be a fierce blow to the -Five Towns Electric Traction Company, which, as -everybody knew, delighted to keep everybody awake -at night and at dawn by means of its late and its -early tram-cars. However, he could not wander up -and down the glittering solitude of his extensive suite -for ever. Something must be done. Then he had -the notion of writing to Nellie; he had promised -himself to write to her daily; moreover, it would -pass the time and perhaps help him to some resolution.</p> -<p class="pnext">He sat down to a delicate Louis XVI desk on -which lay a Bible, a Peerage, a telephone-book, a -telephone, a lamp, and much distinguished stationery. -Between the tasselled folds of plushy curtains that -pleated themselves with the grandeur of painted -curtains in a theatre, he glanced out at the lights of -Devonshire Square, from which not a sound came. -Then he lit the lamp and unscrewed his fountain pen.</p> -<p class="pnext">"My dear wife--"</p> -<p class="pnext">That was how he always began, whether in storm -or sunshine. Nellie always began, "My darling -husband"; but he was not a man to fling darlings -about. Few husbands in the Five Towns are. He -thought "darling," but he never wrote it, and he -never said it, save quizzingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">After these three words the composition of the -letter came to a pause. What was he going to tell -Nellie? He assuredly was not going to tell her that -he had engaged an unpriced suite at Wilkins's. He -was not going to mention Wilkins's. Then he -intelligently perceived that the note-paper and also -the envelope mentioned Wilkins's in no ambiguous -manner. He tore up the sheet and searched for -plain paper. Now, on the desk there was the -ordinary hotel stationery, mourning stationery, cards, -letter-cards, and envelopes for every mood; but not -a piece that was not embossed with the historic name -in royal blue. The which appeared to Edward -Henry to point to a defect of foresight on the part -of Wilkins's. At the gigantic political club to -which he belonged, and which he had occasionally -visited in order to demonstrate to himself and -others that he was a club-man, plain stationery -was everywhere provided for the use of husbands -with a taste for reticence. Why not at Wilkins's also?</p> -<p class="pnext">On the other hand, why should he not write to -his wife on Wilkins's paper? Was he afraid of his -wife? He was not. Would not the news ultimately -reach Bursley that he had stayed at Wilkins's? It -would. Nevertheless, he could not find the courage -to write to Nellie on Wilkins's paper.</p> -<p class="pnext">He looked around. He was fearfully alone. -He wanted the companionship, were it only -momentary, of something human. He decided to have -a look at a flunkey, and he rang a bell.</p> -<p class="pnext">Immediately, just as though wafted thither on a -magic carpet, from the court of Austria, a -gentleman in waiting arrived in the doorway of the -drawing-room, planted himself gracefully on his black -silk calves, and bowed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I want some plain note-paper, please."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Very good, sir." Oh! Perfection of tone and -of mien!</p> -<p class="pnext">Three minutes later the plain note-paper and -envelopes were being presented to Edward Henry on -a salver. As he took them, he looked enquiringly -at the gentleman in waiting, who supported his gaze -with an impenetrable, invulnerable servility. -Edward Henry, beaten off with great loss, thought: -"There's nothing doing here just now in the human -companionship line," and assumed the mask of a -hereditary prince.</p> -<p class="pnext">The black calves carried away their immaculate -living burden, set above all earthly ties.</p> -<p class="pnext">He wrote nicely to Nellie about the weather and -the journey, and informed her also that London -seemed as full as ever, and that he might go to the -theatre, but he wasn't sure. He dated the letter -from the Majestic.</p> -<p class="pnext">As he was finishing it, he heard mysterious, -disturbing footfalls in his private corridor, and after -trying for some time to ignore them, he was forced -by a vague alarm to investigate their origin. A -short middle-aged, pallid man, with a long nose and -long moustaches, wearing a red and black-striped -sleeved waistcoat and a white apron, was in the -corridor. At the Turk's Head such a person would -have been the boots. But Edward Henry remembered -a notice under the bell, advising visitors to -ring once for the waiter, twice for the chambermaid, -and three times for the valet. This, then, -was the valet. In certain picturesque details of -costume Wilkins's was coquettishly French.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What is it?" he demanded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I came to see if your luggage had arrived, sir. -No doubt your servant is bringing it. Can I be of -any assistance to you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The man thoughtfully twirled one end of his -moustache. It was an appalling fault in demeanour; -but the man was proud of his moustache.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The first human being I've met here!" thought -Edward Henry, attracted too by a gleam in the eye -of this eternal haunter of corridors.</p> -<p class="pnext">"His servant!" He saw that something must -be done, and quickly. Wilkins's provided valets -for emergencies, but obviously it expected visitors -to bring their own valets in addition. Obviously -existence without a private valet was inconceivable -to Wilkins's.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The fact is," said Edward Henry, "I'm in a -very awkward situation." He hesitated, seeking to -and fro in his mind for particulars of the situation.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Sorry to hear that, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, a very awkward position." He hesitated -again. "I'd booked passages for myself and my -valet on the <em class="italics">Minnetonka</em>, sailing from Tilbury at -noon to-day, and sent him on in front with my stuff, -and at the very last moment I've been absolutely -prevented from sailing! You see how awkward it -is! I haven't a thing here."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It is indeed, sir! And I suppose <em class="italics">he's</em> gone on, sir?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course he has! He wouldn't find out till -after she sailed that I wasn't on board. You know -the crush and confusion there is on those big liners -just before they start." Edward Henry had once -assisted, under very dramatic circumstances, at the -departure of a transatlantic liner from Liverpool.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Just so, sir!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've neither servant nor clothes!" He considered -that so far he was doing admirably. Indeed, -the tale could not have been bettered, he thought. -His hope was that the fellow would not have the -idea of consulting the shipping intelligence in order -to confirm the departure of the <em class="italics">Minnetonka</em> from -Tilbury that day. Possibly the <em class="italics">Minnetonka</em> never -had sailed and never would sail from Tilbury. -Possibly she had been sold years ago. He had -selected the first ship's name that came into his head. -What did it matter?</p> -<p class="pnext">"My man," he added to clinch--the proper word -"man" had only just occurred to him--"my man -can't be back again under three weeks at the -soonest."</p> -<p class="pnext">The valet made one half-eager step towards him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"If you're wanting a temporary valet, sir, my -son's out of a place for the moment--through no -fault of his own. He's a very good valet, sir, and -soon learns a gentleman's ways."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," said Edward Henry judiciously. "But -could he come at once? That's the point." And -he looked at his watch, as if to imply that another -hour without a valet would be more than human -nature could stand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I could have him round here in less than an -hour, sir," said the hotel valet, comprehending the -gesture. "He's at Norwich Mews--Berkeley -Square way, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry hesitated.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Very well, then!" he said commandingly. -"Send for him. Let me see him."</p> -<p class="pnext">He thought:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Dash it! I'm at Wilkins's--I'll be <em class="italics">at</em> Wilkins's!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Certainly, sir! Thank you very much, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">The hotel valet was retiring when Edward Henry -called him back.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Stop a moment. I'm just going out. Help me -on with my overcoat, will you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The man jumped.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And you might get me a tooth-brush," Edward -Henry airily suggested. "And I've a letter for the post."</p> -<p class="pnext">As he walked down Devonshire Square in the -dark, he hummed a tune: certain sign that he was -self-conscious, uneasy, and yet not unhappy. At a -small but expensive hosier's in a side street he bought -a shirt and a suit of pajamas, and also permitted -himself to be tempted by a special job line of -hair-brushes that the hosier had in his fancy department. -On hearing the powerful word "Wilkins's," the -hosier promised with passionate obsequiousness that -the goods should be delivered instantly.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry cooled his excitement by an extended -stroll, and finally re-entered the outer hall of -the hotel at half-past seven, and sat down therein -to see the world. He knew by instinct that the -boldest lounge suit must not at that hour penetrate -further into the public rooms of Wilkins's.</p> -<p class="pnext">The world at its haughtiest was driving up to -Wilkins's to eat its dinner in the unrivalled -restaurant, and often guests staying at the hotel came -into the outer hall to greet invited friends. And -Edward Henry was so overfaced by visions of -woman's brilliance and man's utter correctness that -he scarcely knew where to look--so apologetic was -he for his grey lounge suit and the creases in his -boots. In less than a quarter of an hour he -appreciated with painful clearness that his entire -conception of existence had been wrong, and that he -must begin again at the beginning. Nothing in his -luggage at the Majestic would do. His socks -would not do, nor his shoes, nor the braid on his -trousers, nor his cuff-links, nor his ready-made white -bow, nor the number of studs in the shirt-front, nor -the collar of his coat. Nothing! Nothing! To-morrow -would be a full day.</p> -<p class="pnext">He ventured apologetically into the lift. In his -private corridor a young man respectfully waited, -hat in hand, the paternal red-and-black waistcoat by -his side for purposes of introduction. The young -man was wearing a rather shabby blue suit, but a -rich and distinguished overcoat that fitted him ill. -In another five minutes Edward Henry had engaged -a skilled valet, aged twenty-four, name Joseph, -with a testimonial of efficiency from Sir Nicholas -Winkworth, Bart., at a salary of a pound a week and -all found.</p> -<p class="pnext">Joseph seemed to await instructions. And -Edward Henry was placed in a new quandary. He -knew not whether the small bedroom in the suite -was for a child, or for his wife's maid, or for his -valet. Quite probably it would be a sacrilegious -defiance of precedent to put a valet in the small -bedroom. Quite probably Wilkins's had a floor for -private valets in the roof. Again, quite probably, -the small bedroom might be after all specially -destined for valets! He could not decide, and the -most precious thing in the universe to him in that -crisis was his reputation as a man about town in the -eyes of Joseph.</p> -<p class="pnext">But something had to be done.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll sleep in this room," said Edward Henry, -indicating the door. "I may want you in the night."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, sir," said Joseph.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I presume you'll dine up here, sir," said Joseph, -glancing at the lounge suit. His father had -informed him of his new master's predicament.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I shall," said Edward Henry. "You might get -the menu."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">IV.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">He had a very bad night indeed, owing no doubt -partly to a general uneasiness in his unusual -surroundings, and partly also to a special uneasiness -caused by the propinquity of a sleeping valet; but -the main origin of it was certainly his dreadful -anxiety about the question of a first-class tailor. In the -organisation of his new life a first-class tailor was -essential, and he was not acquainted with a first-class -London tailor. He did not know a great deal -concerning clothes, though quite passably well dressed -for a provincial, but he knew enough to be sure that -it was impossible to judge the merits of a tailor by -his sign-board, and therefore that if, wandering in -the precincts of Bond Street, he entered the first -establishment that "looked likely," he would have a -good chance of being "done in the eye." So he -phrased it to himself as he lay in bed. He wanted a -definite and utterly reliable address.</p> -<p class="pnext">He rang the bell. Only, as it happened to be -the wrong bell, he obtained the presence of Joseph -in a round-about way, through the agency of a -gentleman in waiting. Such, however, is the human -faculty of adaptation to environment that he was -merely amused in the morning by an error which, -on the previous night, would have put him into a -sweat.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good morning, sir," said Joseph.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry nodded, his hands under his head -as he lay on his back. He decided to leave all -initiative to Joseph. The man drew up the blinds, -and, closing the double windows at the top, opened -them very wide at the bottom.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It is a rainy morning, sir," said Joseph, letting -in vast quantities of air from Devonshire Square. -Clearly, Sir Nicholas Winkworth had been a breezy -master.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" murmured Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">He felt a careless contempt for Joseph's flunkeyism. -Hitherto he had had a theory that footmen, -valets, and all male personal attendants were an -inexcusable excrescence on the social fabric. The -mere sight of them often angered him, though for -some reason he had no objection whatever to -servility in a nice-looking maid--indeed, rather enjoyed -it. But now, in the person of Joseph, he saw that -there were human or half-human beings born to -self-abasement, and that, if their destiny was to be -fulfilled, valetry was a necessary institution. He had -no pity for Joseph, no shame in employing him. -He scorned Joseph; and yet his desire, as a man -about town, to keep Joseph's esteem was in no way -diminished.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Shall I prepare your bath, sir?" asked Joseph, -stationed in a supple attitude by the side of the bed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry was visited by an idea.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Have you had yours?" he demanded like a -pistol-shot.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry saw that Sir Nicholas had never -asked that particular question.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not had your bath, man! What on earth do -you mean by it? Go and have your bath at once!"</p> -<p class="pnext">A faint sycophantic smile lightened the amazed -features of Joseph. And Edward Henry thought: -"It's astonishing, all the same, the way they can -read their masters. This chap has seen already that -I'm a card. And yet how?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, sir," said Joseph.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Have your bath in the bathroom here. And -be sure to leave everything in order for me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">As soon as Joseph had gone, Edward Henry -jumped out of bed and listened. He heard the -discreet Joseph respectfully push the bolt of the -bathroom door. Then he crept with noiseless rapidity -to the small bedroom, and was aware therein of a -lack of order and of ventilation. The rich and -distinguished overcoat was hanging on the brass -knob at the foot of the bed. He seized it, and, -scrutinizing the loop, read in yellow letters: -<em class="italics">Quayther and Cuthering, 47 Vigo Street, W</em>. He knew -that Quayther and Cuthering must be the tailors of -Sir Nicholas Winkworth, and hence first-class.</p> -<p class="pnext">Hoping for the best, and putting his trust in the -general decency of human nature, he did not trouble -himself with the problem: was the overcoat a gift -or an appropriation? But he preferred to assume -the generosity of Sir Nicholas rather than the -dishonesty of Joseph.</p> -<p class="pnext">Repassing the bathroom door, he knocked loudly -on its glass.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Don't be all day!" he cried. He was in a -hurry now.</p> -<p class="pnext">An hour later he said to Joseph:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm going down to Quayther and Cuthering's."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, sir," said Joseph, obviously much reassured.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nincompoop!" Edward Henry exclaimed secretly. -"The fool thinks better of me because my -tailors are first-class."</p> -<p class="pnext">But Edward Henry had failed to notice that he -himself was thinking better of himself because he -had adopted first-class tailors.</p> -<p class="pnext">Beneath the main door of his suite, as he went -forth, he found a business card of the West End -Electric Brougham Supply Agency. And downstairs, -solely to impress his individuality on the -hall-porter, he showed the card to that vizier with the -casual question:</p> -<p class="pnext">"These people any good?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"An excellent firm, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What do they charge?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"By the week, sir?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He hesitated. "Yes, by the week?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Twenty guineas, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, you might telephone for one. Can you -get it at once?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Certainly, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">The vizier turned towards the telephone in his lair.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I say--" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Sir?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I suppose one will be enough?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, sir, as a rule, yes," said the vizier calmly. -"Sometimes I get a couple for one family, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">Though he had started jocularly, Edward Henry -finished by blenching. "I think one will do.... -I may possibly send for my own car."</p> -<p class="pnext">He drove to Quayther and Cuthering's in his -electric brougham, and there dropped casually the name -of Winkworth. He explained humourously his -singular misadventure of the <em class="italics">Minnetonka</em>, and was -very successful therewith, so successful indeed, that -he actually began to believe in the reality of the -adventure himself, and had an irrational impulse to -despatch a wireless message to his bewildered valet -on board the <em class="italics">Minnetonka</em>.</p> -<p class="pnext">Subsequently he paid other fruitful visits in the -neighbourhood, and at about half-past eleven the -fruit was arriving at Wilkins's in the shape of many -parcels and boxes, comprising diverse items in the -equipment of a man about town, such as tie-clips -and Innovation trunks.</p> -<p class="pnext">Returning late to Wilkins's for lunch, he marched -jauntily into the large brilliant restaurant, and -commenced an adequate repast. Of course he was still -wearing his mediocre lounge suit (his sole suit for -another two days), but somehow the consciousness -that Quayther and Cutherings were cutting out -wondrous garments for him in Vigo Street stiffened -his shoulders and gave a mysterious style to that -lounge suit.</p> -<p class="pnext">At lunch he made one mistake, and enjoyed one -very remarkable piece of luck.</p> -<p class="pnext">The mistake was to order an artichoke. He did -not know how to eat an artichoke. He had never -tried to eat an artichoke, and his first essay in this -difficult and complex craft was a sad fiasco. It -would not have mattered if, at the table next to his -own, there had not been two obviously experienced -women, one ill dressed, with a red hat, the other -well dressed, with a blue hat; one middle-aged, the -other much younger; but both very observant. And -even so, it would scarcely have mattered, had not -the younger woman been so slim, pretty, and -alluring. While tolerably careless of the opinion of the -red-hatted plain woman of middle age, he desired -the unqualified approval of the delightful young -thing in the blue hat. They certainly interested -themselves in his manoeuvres with the artichoke, -and their amusement was imperfectly concealed. He -forgave the blue hat, but considered that the red -hat ought to have known better. They could not -be princesses, nor even titled aristocrats. He -supposed them to belong to some baccarat-playing county -family.</p> -<p class="pnext">The piece of luck consisted in the passage down -the restaurant of the Countess of Chell, who had -been lunching there with a party, and whom he had -known locally in more gusty days. The countess -bowed stiffly to the red hat, and the red hat -responded with eager fulsomeness. It seemed to be -here as it no longer was in the Five Towns: -everybody knew everybody! The red hat and the blue -might be titled, after all, he thought. Then, by -sheer accident, the countess caught sight of him, and -stopped dead, bringing her escort to a standstill -behind her. Edward Henry blushed and rose.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is it <em class="italics">you</em>, Mr. Machin?" murmured the still -lovely creature warmly.</p> -<p class="pnext">They shook hands. Never had social pleasure -so thrilled him. The conversation was short. He -did not presume on the past. He knew that here -he was not on his own ash-pit, as they say in the -Five Towns. The countess and her escort went -forward. Edward Henry sat down again.</p> -<p class="pnext">He gave the red and the blue hats one calm -glance, which they failed to withstand. The affair -of the artichoke was forever wiped out.</p> -<p class="pnext">After lunch he went forth again in his electric -brougham. The weather had cleared. The -opulent streets were full of pride and sunshine. And -as he penetrated into one shop after another, -receiving kowtows, obeisances, curtsies, homage, -surrender, resignation, submission, he gradually -comprehended that it takes all sorts to make a world, -and that those who are called to greatness must -accept with dignity the ceremonials inseparable from -greatness. And the world had never seemed to him -so fine, nor any adventure so diverting and uplifting -as this adventure.</p> -<p class="pnext">When he returned to his suite, his private -corridor was piled up with a numerous and excessively -attractive assortment of parcels. Joseph took his -overcoat and hat and a new umbrella, and placed -an easy chair conveniently for him in the drawing-room.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Get my bill," he said shortly to Joseph as he -sank into the gilded fauteuil.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">One advantage of a valet, he discovered, is that -you can order him to do things which to do yourself -would more than exhaust your moral courage.</p> -<p class="pnext">The black-calved gentleman in waiting brought the -bill. It lay on a salver, and was folded, conceivably -so as to break the shock of it to the recipient.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry took it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Wait a minute," he said.</p> -<p class="pnext">He read on the bill: "Apartment £8. Dinner -£1-2-0. Breakfast 6s. 6d. Lunch 18s. Half -Chablis 6s. 6d. Valet's board 10s. Tooth-brush -2s. 6d.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's a bit thick, half a crown for that -toothbrush!" he said to himself. "However--"</p> -<p class="pnext">The next instant he blenched once more.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Gosh!" he privately exclaimed as he read: -"Paid driver of taxicab £2-3-6."</p> -<p class="pnext">He had forgotten the taxi. But he admired the -<em class="italics">sang-froid</em> of Wilkins's, which paid such trifles as a -matter of course, without deigning to disturb a guest -by an enquiry. Wilkins's rose again in his esteem.</p> -<p class="pnext">The total of the bill exceeded thirteen pounds.</p> -<p class="pnext">"All right," he said to the gentleman in waiting.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Are you leaving to-day, sir?" the being -permitted himself to ask.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course I'm not leaving to-day! Haven't I -hired an electric brougham for a week?" Edward -Henry burst out. "But I suppose I'm entitled to -know how much I'm spending!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The gentleman in waiting humbly bowed, and departed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Alone in the splendid chamber, Edward Henry -drew out a swollen pocketbook and examined its -crisp, crinkly contents, which made a beauteous and -a reassuring sight.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Pooh!" he muttered.</p> -<p class="pnext">He reckoned he would be living at the rate of -about fifteen pounds a day, or five thousand five -hundred a year. (He did not count the cost of -his purchases, because they were in the nature of a -capital expenditure.)</p> -<p class="pnext">"Cheap!" he muttered. "For once I'm about -living up to my income!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The sensation was exquisite in its novelty.</p> -<p class="pnext">He ordered tea, and afterwards, feeling sleepy, -he went fast asleep.</p> -<p class="pnext">He awoke to the ringing of the telephone-bell. It -was quite dark. The telephone-bell continued to -ring.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Joseph!" he called.</p> -<p class="pnext">The valet entered.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What time is it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"After ten o'clock, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">"The deuce it is!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He had slept over four hours!</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, answer that confounded telephone."</p> -<p class="pnext">Joseph obeyed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a Mr. Bryany, sir, if I catch the name -right," said Joseph.</p> -<p class="pnext">Bryany! For twenty-four hours he had scarcely -thought of Bryany, or the option either.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bring the telephone here," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">The cord would just reach to his chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Hello! Bryany! Is that you?" cried Edward -Henry gaily.</p> -<p class="pnext">And then he heard the weakened voice of -Mr. Bryany in his ear:</p> -<p class="pnext">"How d'ye do, Mr. Machin. I've been after -you for the better part of two days, and now I find -you're staying in the same hotel as Mr. Sachs and me!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">He understood now why on the previous day the -dandy introducing him to his suite had smiled a -welcome at the name of Alderman Machin, and why -Joseph had accepted so naturally the command to -take a bath. Bryany had been talking. Bryany -had been recounting his exploits as a card.</p> -<p class="pnext">The voice of Bryany in his ear continued:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Look here! I've got Miss Euclid here and -some friends of hers. Of course she wants to see -you at once. Can you come down?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Er--" He hesitated.</p> -<p class="pnext">He could not come down. He would have no -evening wear till the next day but one.</p> -<p class="pnext">Said the voice of Bryany:</p> -<p class="pnext">"What?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I can't," said Edward Henry. "I'm not very -well. But listen. All of you come up to my rooms -here and have supper, will you? Suite 48."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll ask the lady," said the voice of Bryany, -altered now, and a few seconds later: "We're coming."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Joseph," Edward Henry gave orders rapidly as -he took off his coat and removed the pocketbook -from it. "I'm ill, you understand. Anyhow, not -well. Take this," handing him the coat, "and bring -me the new dressing-gown out of that green -cardboard box from Rollet's--I think it is. And then -get the supper menu. I'm very hungry. I've had -no dinner."</p> -<p class="pnext">Within sixty seconds he sat in state, wearing a -grandiose yellow dressing-gown. The change was -accomplished just in time. Mr. Bryany entered, -and not only Mr. Bryany, but Mr. Seven Sachs, and -not only these, but the lady who had worn a red -hat at lunch.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss Rose Euclid," said Mr. Bryany, puffing -and bending.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="entry-into-the-theatrical-world">CHAPTER IV</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">ENTRY INTO THE THEATRICAL WORLD</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">I.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Once, on a short visit to London, Edward -Henry had paid half a crown to be let into -a certain enclosure with a very low ceiling. -This enclosure was already crowded with some three -hundred people, sitting and standing. Edward -Henry had stood in the only unoccupied spot he -could find, behind a pillar. When he had made -himself as comfortable as possible by turning up his -collar against the sharp winds that continually -entered from the street, he had peered forward, and -seen in front of this enclosure another and larger -enclosure also crowded with people, but more -expensive people. After a blank interval of thirty -minutes a band had begun to play at an incredible -distance in front of him, extinguishing the noises of -traffic in the street. After another interval an -oblong space, rather further off even than the band, -suddenly grew bright, and Edward Henry, by -curving his neck, first to one side of the pillar and then -to the other, had had tantalising glimpses of the -interior of a doll's drawing-room and of male and -female dolls therein.</p> -<p class="pnext">He could only see, even partially, the interior half -of the drawing-room,--a little higher than the -heads of the dolls,--because the rest was cut -off from his vision by the lowness of his own ceiling.</p> -<p class="pnext">The dolls were talking, but he could not catch -clearly what they said, save at the rare moments -when an omnibus or a van did not happen to be -thundering down the street behind him. Then one -special doll had come exquisitely into the -drawing-room, and at the sight of her the five hundred -people in front of him, and numbers of other people -perched hidden beyond his ceiling, had clapped -fervently and even cried aloud in their excitement. -And he, too, had clapped fervently, and had -muttered "Bravo!" This special doll was a marvel -of touching and persuasive grace, with a voice--when -Edward Henry could hear it--that melted -the spine. This special doll had every elegance, and -seemed to be in the highest pride of youth. At the -close of the affair, as this special doll sank into the -embrace of a male doll from whom she had been -unjustly separated, and then straightened herself, -deliciously and confidently smiling, to take the -tremendous applause of Edward Henry and the rest, -Edward Henry thought that he had never assisted -at a triumph so genuine and so inspiring. Oblivious -of the pain in his neck, and of the choking foul -atmosphere of the enclosure, accurately described as -the pit, he had gone forth into the street with a -subconscious notion in his head that the special doll -was more than human, was half divine. And he had -said afterwards, with immense satisfaction, at -Bursley: "Yes, I saw Rose Euclid in 'Flower of the -Heart.'"</p> -<p class="pnext">He had never set eyes on her since.</p> -<p class="pnext">And now, on this day at Wilkins's, he had seen -in the restaurant, and he saw again before him in -his private parlour, a faded and stoutish woman, -negligently if expensively dressed, with a fatigued, -nervous, watery glance, an unnatural, pale-violet -complexion, a wrinkled skin, and dyed hair; a -woman of whom it might be said that she had -escaped grandmotherhood, if indeed she had escaped -it, by mere luck--and he was pointblank -commanded to believe that she and Rose Euclid were -the same person.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was one of the most shattering shocks of all -his career, which, nevertheless, had not been -untumultuous. And within his dressing-gown--which -nobody remarked upon--he was busy picking -up and piecing together, as quickly as he could, -the shivered fragments of his ideas.</p> -<p class="pnext">He literally did not recognise Rose Euclid. -True, fifteen years had passed since the night in the -pit! And he himself was fifteen years older. But -in his mind he had never pictured any change in -Rose Euclid. True, he had been familiar with the -enormous renown of Rose Euclid as far back as he -could remember taking any interest in theatrical -advertisements! But he had not permitted her to -reach an age of more than about thirty-one or -two. Whereas he now perceived that even the -exquisite doll in paradise that he had gloated over -from his pit must have been quite thirty-five--then....</p> -<p class="pnext">Well, he scornfully pitied Rose Euclid. He -blamed her for not having accomplished the miracle -of eternal youth. He actually considered that she -had cheated him. "Is this all? What a swindle!" -he thought, as he was piecing together the shivered -fragments of his ideas into a new pattern. He had -felt much the same as a boy, at Bursley Annual -Wakes once, on entering a booth which promised -horrors and did not supply them. He had been -"done" all these years....</p> -<p class="pnext">Reluctantly he admitted that Rose Euclid could -not help her age. But, at any rate, she ought to -have grown older beautifully, with charming dignity -and vivacity--in fact, she ought to have contrived -to be old and young simultaneously. Or, in the -alternative, she ought to have modestly retired into -the country and lived on her memories and such -money as she had not squandered. She had no -right to be abroad. At worst, she ought to have -<em class="italics">looked</em> famous. And, because her name and fame -and photographs, as an emotional actress had been -continually in the newspapers, therefore she ought -to have been refined, delicate, distinguished, and full -of witty and gracious small talk. That she had -played the heroine of "Flower of the Heart" four -hundred times, and the heroine of "The Grenadier" -four hundred and fifty times, and the heroine -of "The Wife's Ordeal" nearly five hundred times, -made it incumbent upon her, in Edward Henry's -subconscious opinion, to possess all the talents of a -woman of the world and all the virgin freshness of -a girl. Which shows how cruelly stupid Edward -Henry was in comparison with the enlightened rest -of us.</p> -<p class="pnext">Why (he protested secretly), she was even -tongue-tied!</p> -<p class="pnext">"Glad to meet you, Mr. Machin," she said awkwardly, -in a weak voice, with a peculiar gesture as -she shook hands. Then, a mechanical nervous -giggle--and then silence.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Happy to make your acquaintance, sir," said -Mr. Seven Sachs, and the arch-famous American -actor-author also lapsed into silence. But the silence -of Mr. Seven Sachs was different from Rose -Euclid's. He was not shy. A dark and handsome, -tranquil, youngish man, with a redoubtable square -chin, delicately rounded at the corners, he strikingly -resembled his own figure on the stage; and, -moreover, he seemed to regard silence as a natural and -proper condition. He simply stood, in a graceful -posture, with his muscles at ease, and waited.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany, behind, seemed to be reduced in -stature, and to have become apologetic for himself -in the presence of greatness.</p> -<p class="pnext">Still, Mr. Bryany did say something.</p> -<p class="pnext">Said Mr. Bryany:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Sorry to hear you've been seedy, Mr. Machin!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, yes!" Rose Euclid blurted out, as if shot. -"It's very good of you to ask us up here."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Seven Sachs concurred, adding that he hoped -the illness was not serious.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry said it was not.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Won't you sit down, all of you?" said Edward -Henry. "Miss--er--Euclid--"</p> -<p class="pnext">They all sat down except Mr. Bryany.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Sit down, Bryany," said Edward Henry. "I'm -glad to be able to return your hospitality at the -Turk's Head."</p> -<p class="pnext">This was a blow for Mr. Bryany, who obviously -felt it, and grew even more apologetic as he fumbled -with assumed sprightliness at a chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Fancy your being here all the time!" said he, -"and me looked for you everywhere--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Bryany," Seven Sachs interrupted him -calmly, "have you got those letters off?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not yet, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">Seven Sachs urbanely smiled. "I think we ought -to get them off to-night."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Certainly," agreed Mr. Bryany with eagerness, -and moved towards the door.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here's the key of my sitting-room," Seven -Sachs stopped him, producing a key.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Bryany, by a mischance catching Edward -Henry's eye as he took the key, blushed.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a moment Edward Henry was alone with the -two silent celebrities.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry to himself, "I've -let myself in for it this time--no mistake! What -in the name of common sense am I doing here?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Rose Euclid coughed, and arranged the folds of -her dress.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I suppose, like most Americans, you see all the -sights," said Edward Henry to Seven Sachs, "the -Five Towns is much visited by Americans. What -do you think of my dressing-gown?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bully!" said Seven Sachs, with the faintest -twinkle. And Rose Euclid gave the mechanical -nervous giggle.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I can do with this chap," thought Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">The gentleman in waiting entered with the supper -menu.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Thank Heaven!" thought Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">Rose Euclid, requested to order a supper after -her own mind, stared vaguely at the menu for some -moments, and then said that she did not know what -to order.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Artichokes?" Edward Henry blandly suggested.</p> -<p class="pnext">Again the giggle, followed this time by a flush! -And suddenly Edward Henry recognised in her the -entrancing creature of fifteen years ago! Her head -thrown back, she had put her left hand behind her, -and was groping with her long fingers for an object -to touch. Having found at length the arm of -another chair, she drew her fingers feverishly along its -surface. He vividly remembered the gesture in -"Flower of the Heart." She had used it with -terrific effect at every grand emotional crisis of the play. -He now recognised even her face!</p> -<p class="pnext">"Did Mr. Bryany tell you that my two boys are -coming up?" said she. "I left them behind to do -some telephoning for me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Delighted!" said Edward Henry. "The -more the merrier!"</p> -<p class="pnext">And he hoped that he spoke true.</p> -<p class="pnext">But her two boys!</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Marrier--he's a young manager. I don't -knew whether you know him; very, very talented. -And Carlo Trent."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Same name as my dog," Edward Henry indiscreetly -murmured; and his fancy flew back to the -home he had quitted, and Wilkins's and everybody -in it grew transiently unreal to him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Delighted!" he said again.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was relieved that her two boys were not her -offspring. That at least was something gained.</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">You</em> know--the dramatist," said Rose Euclid, -apparently disappointed by the effect on Edward -Henry of the name of Carlo Trent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Really!" said Edward Henry. "I hope he -won't mind me being in a dressing-gown."</p> -<p class="pnext">The gentleman in waiting, obsequiously restive, -managed to choose the supper himself. Leaving, he -reached the door just in time to hold it open for the -entrance of Mr. Marrier and Mr. Carlo Trent, who -were talking, with noticeable freedom and emphasis, -in an accent which in the Five Towns is known as the -"haw-haw," the "lah-di-dah," or the "Kensingtonian" -accent.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Within ten minutes, within less than ten minutes, -Alderman Edward Henry Machin's supper-party at -Wilkins's was so wonderfully changed for the better -that Edward Henry might have been excused for not -recognising it as his own.</p> -<p class="pnext">The service at Wilkins's, where they profoundly -understood human nature, was very intelligent. -Somewhere in a central bureau at Wilkins's sat a -psychologist who knew, for example, that a supper -commanded on the spur of the moment must be -produced instantly if it is to be enjoyed. Delay in these -capricious cases impairs the ecstasy, and therefore -lessens the chance of other similar meals being -commanded at the same establishment. Hence, no -sooner had the gentleman in waiting disappeared with -the order, than certain esquires appeared with the -limbs and body of a table which they set up in -Edward Henry's drawing-room; and they covered the -board with a damask cloth and half covered the -damask cloth with flowers, glasses, and plates, and -laid a special private wire from the skirting-board -near the hearth to a spot on the table beneath -Edward Henry's left hand, so that he could summon -courtiers on the slightest provocation with the -minimum of exertion. Then immediately brown bread -and butter and lemons and red-pepper came, -followed by oysters, followed by bottles of pale wine, -both still and sparkling. Thus, before the principal -dishes had even begun to frizzle in the distant -kitchens, the revellers were under the illusion that the -entire supper was waiting just outside the door.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yes, they were revellers now! For the advent -of her young men had transformed Rose Euclid, and -Rose Euclid had transformed the general situation. -At the table, Edward Henry occupied one side of -it, Mr. Seven Sachs occupied the side opposite, -Mr. Marrier, the very, very talented young manager, -occupied the side to Edward Henry's left, and Rose -Euclid and Carlo Trent together occupied the side -to his right.</p> -<p class="pnext">Trent and Marrier were each about thirty years -of age. Trent, with a deep voice, had extremely -lustrous eyes, which eyes continually dwelt on Rose -Euclid in admiration. Apparently, all she needed in -this valley was oysters and admiration, and she now -had both in unlimited quantities.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oysters are darlings," she said, as she swallowed -the first.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent kissed her hand respectfully--for -she was old enough to be his mother.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And you are the greatest tragic actress in the -world, Ra-ose!" said he in the Kensingtonian -bass.</p> -<p class="pnext">A few moments earlier Rose Euclid had -whispered to Edward Henry that Carlo Trent was the -greatest dramatic poet in the world. She flowered -now beneath the sun of those dark lustrous eyes and -the soft rain of that admiration from the greatest -dramatic poet in the world. It really did seem to -Edward Henry that she grew younger. Assuredly -she grew more girlish, and her voice improved. -And then the bottles began to pop, and it was as -though the action of uncorking wine automatically -uncorked hearts also. Mr. Seven Sachs, sitting -square and upright, smiled gaily at Edward Henry -across the gleaming table, and raised a glass. Little -Marrier, who at nearly all times had a most -enthusiastic smile, did the same. In the result, five -glasses met over the central bed of chrysanthemums. -Edward Henry was happy. Surrounded by enigmas,--for -he had no conception whatever why Rose -Euclid had brought any of the three men to his -table,--he was nevertheless uplifted.</p> -<p class="pnext">As he looked about him, at the rich table, and at -the glittering chandelier overhead (albeit the -lamps thereof were inferior to his own), and at the -expanses of soft carpet, and at the silken-textured -walls, and at the voluptuous curtains, and at the -couple of impeccable gentlemen in waiting, and at -Joseph who knew his place behind his master's -chair,--he came to the justifiable conclusion that money -was a marvellous thing, and the workings of -commerce mysterious and beautiful. He had invented -the Five Towns Thrift Club; working men and their -wives in the Five Towns were paying their -two-pences, and sixpences, and shillings weekly into his -Club, and finding the transaction a real convenience--and -lo! he was entertaining celebrities at Wilkins's.</p> -<p class="pnext">For, mind you, they were celebrities. He knew -Seven Sachs was a celebrity because he had verily -seen him act--and act very well--in his own play, -and because his name in letters a foot high had -dominated all the hoardings of the Five Towns. As -for Rose Euclid, could there be a greater celebrity? -Such was the strange power of the popular legend -concerning her, that even now, despite the first -fearful shock of disappointment, Edward Henry could -not call her by her name, without self-consciously -stumbling over it, without a curious thrill. And -further, he was revising his judgment of her, as well -as lowering her age slightly. On coming into the -room she had doubtless been almost as startled as -himself, and her constrained muteness had been -probably due to a guilty feeling in the matter of passing -too open remarks to a friend about a perfect -stranger's manner of eating artichokes. The which, -supposition flattered him. (By the way, he wished -she had brought the young friend who had shared -her amusement over his artichoke.) With regard -to the other two men, he was quite ready to believe -that Carlo Trent was the world's greatest poet, and -to admit the exceeding talent of Mr. Marrier as a -theatrical manager.... In fact, unmistakable -celebrities, one and all! He himself was a celebrity. -A certain quality in the attitude of each of his guests -showed clearly that they considered him a celebrity, -and not only a celebrity, but a card,--Bryany must -have been talking,--and the conviction of this -rendered him happy. His magnificent hunger rendered -him still happier. And the reflection that Brindley -owed him half a crown put a top on his bliss!</p> -<p class="pnext">"I like your dressing-gown, Mr. Machin," said -Carlo Trent suddenly, after his first spoonful of -soup.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then I needn't apologise for it!" Edward -Henry replied.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It is the dressing-gown of my dreams," Carlo -Trent went on.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry, "as we're on the -subject, I like your shirt-front."</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent was wearing a soft shirt. The other -three shirts were all rigidly starched. Hitherto -Edward Henry had imagined that a fashionable evening -shirt should be, before aught else, bullet-proof. -He now appreciated the distinction of a frilled and -gently flowing breastplate, especially when a broad -purple eye-glass ribbon wandered across it. Rose -Euclid gazed in modest transport at Carlo's chest.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The colour," Carlo proceeded, ignoring Edward -Henry's compliment, "the colour is inspiring. -So is the texture. I have a woman's delight in -textures. I could certainly produce better hexameters -in such a dressing-gown."</p> -<p class="pnext">Although Edward Henry, owing to an unfortunate -hiatus in his education, did not know what a -hexameter might be, he was artist enough to comprehend -the effect of attire on creative work, for he had -noticed that he himself could make more money in -one necktie than in another, and he would instinctively -take particular care in the morning choice of -a cravat on days when he meditated a great coup.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why don't you get one?" Marrier suggested.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you really think I could?" asked Carlo -Trent, as if the possibility were shimmering far out -of his reach like a rainbow.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Rather!" smiled Marrier. "I don't mind -laying a fiver that Mr. Machin's dressing-gown came -from Drook's in Old Bond Street." But instead of -saying "old" he said "ehoold."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It did," Edward Henry admitted.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier beamed with satisfaction.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Drook's, you say?" murmured Carlo Trent. -"Old Bond Street?" and wrote down the information -on his shirt-cuff.</p> -<p class="pnext">Rose Euclid watched him write.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, Carlo," said she. "But don't you think -we'd better begin to talk about the theatre? You -haven't told me yet if you got hold of Longay on -the 'phone."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course we got hold of him," said Marrier. -"He agrees with me that 'The Intellectual' is a -better name for it."</p> -<p class="pnext">Rose Euclid clapped her hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm so glad!" she cried. "Now what do you -think of it as a name, Mr. Machin,--'The Intellectual -Theatre?' You see it's most important we -should settle on the name, isn't it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">It is no exaggeration to say that Edward Henry -felt a wave of cold in the small of his back, and also -a sinking away of the nevertheless quite solid chair -on which he sat. He had more than the typical -Englishman's sane distrust of that morbid word -"Intellectual." His attitude towards it amounted to -active dislike. If ever he used it, he would on no -account use it alone; he would say, "Intellectual, and -all that sort of thing!" with an air of pushing -violently away from him everything that the phrase -implied. The notion of baptising a theatre with the -fearsome word horrified him. Still he had to -maintain his nerve and his repute. So he drank some -champagne, and smiled nonchalantly as the imperturbable -duellist smiles while the pistols are being -examined.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well--" he murmured.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You see," Marrier broke in, with the smile -ecstatic, almost dancing on his chair. "There's no -use in compromise. Compromise is and always has -been the curse of this country. The unintellectual -drahma is dead--dead. Naoobody can deny that. -All the box-offices in the West are proclaiming it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Should you call your play intellectual, -Mr. Sachs?" Edward Henry inquired across the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I scarcely know," said Mr. Seven Sachs calmly. -"I know I've played it myself fifteen hundred and -two times, and that's saying nothing of my three -subsidiary companies on the road."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What is Mr. Sach's play?" asked Carlo Trent -fretfully.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Don't you know, Carlo?" Rose Euclid patted -him. "'Overheard.'"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! I've never seen it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But it was on all the hoardings!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I never read the hoardings," said Carlo. "Is -it in verse?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, it isn't," Mr. Seven Sachs briefly responded. -"But I've made over six hundred thousand dollars -out of it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then of course it's intellectual!" asserted -Mr. Marrier positively. "That proves it. I'm very -sorry I've not seen it either; but it must be -intellectual. The day of the unintellectual drama is over. -The people won't have it. We must have faith in -the people, and we can't show our faith better than -by calling our theatre by its proper name--'The -Intellectual Theatre!'"</p> -<p class="pnext">("<em class="italics">His</em> theatre!" thought Edward Henry. -"What's he got to do with it?")</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't know that I'm so much in love with -your 'Intellectual,'" muttered Carlo Trent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">Aren't</em> you?" protested Rose Euclid, shocked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course I'm not," said Carlo. "I told you -before, and I tell you now, that there's only one -name for the theatre--'The Muses' Theatre!'"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Perhaps you're right!" Rose agreed, as if a -swift revelation had come to her. "Yes, you're -right."</p> -<p class="pnext">("She'll make a cheerful sort of partner for a -fellow," thought Edward Henry, "if she's in the -habit of changing her mind like that every thirty -seconds." His appetite had gone. He could only -drink.)</p> -<p class="pnext">"Naturally, I'm right! Aren't we going to open -with my play, and isn't my play in verse? ... I'm -sure you'll agree with me, Mr. Machin, that there -is no real drama except the poetical drama."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry was entirely at a loss. Indeed, -he was drowning in his dressing-gown, so -favourable to the composition of hexameters.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Poetry..." he vaguely breathed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, sir," said Carlo Trent. "Poetry."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've never read any poetry in my life," said -Edward Henry, like a desperate criminal. "Not a -line."</p> -<p class="pnext">Whereupon Carlo Trent rose up from his seat, -and his eye-glasses dangled in front of him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Machin," said he with the utmost benevolence. -"This is the most interesting thing I've ever -come across. Do you know, you're precisely the -man I've always been wanting to meet? ... The -virgin mind. The clean slate.... Do you know, -you're precisely the man that it's my ambition to -write for?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's very kind of you," said Edward Henry -feebly, beaten, and consciously beaten.</p> -<p class="pnext">(He thought miserably: "What would Nellie -think if she saw me in this gang?")</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent went on, turning to Rose Euclid:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Rose, will you recite those lines of Nashe?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Rose Euclid began to blush.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That bit you taught me the day before yesterday?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Only the three lines! No more! They are -the very essence of poetry--poetry at its purest. -We'll see the effect of them on Mr. Machin. We'll -just see. It's the ideal opportunity to test my -theory. Now, there's a good girl!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! I can't. I'm too nervous," stammered Rose.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You can, and you must," said Carlo, gazing at -her in homage. "Nobody in the world can say -them as well as you can. Now!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Rose Euclid stood up.</p> -<p class="pnext">"One moment," Carlo stopped her. "There's -too much light. We can't do with all this light. -Mr. Machin--do you mind?"</p> -<p class="pnext">A wave of the hand, and all the lights were -extinguished, save a lamp on the mantelpiece, and in -the disconcertingly darkened room Rose Euclid -turned her face towards the ray from this solitary -silk-shaded globe.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her hand groped out behind her, found the table-cloth -and began to scratch it agitatedly. She lifted -her head. She was the actress, impressive and -subjugating, and Edward Henry felt her power. Then -she intoned:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"<em class="italics">Brightness falls from the air;</em></div> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">Queens have died young and fair;</em></div> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">Dust hath closed Helen's eye.</em>"</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">And she ceased and sat down. There was a silence.</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">Bravo!</em>" murmured Carlo Trent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">Bravo!</em>" murmured Mr. Marrier.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry in the gloom caught Mr. Seven -Sachs's unalterable observant smile across the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, Mr. Machin?" said Carlo Trent.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry had felt a tremor at the vibrations -of Rose Euclid's voice. But the words she uttered -had set up no clear image in his mind, unless it might -be of some solid body falling from the air, or of a -young woman named Helen walking along Trafalgar -Road, Bursley, on a dusty day, and getting the dust -in her eyes. He knew not what to answer.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is that all there is of it?" he asked at length.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's from Thomas Nashe's 'Song in Time of -Pestilence.' The closing lines of the verse are:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"<em class="italics">I am sick, I must die--</em></div> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">Lord, have mercy on me!</em>"</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">"Well," said Edward Henry, recovering, "I -rather like the end. I think the end's very appropriate."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Seven Sachs choked over his wine, and kept -on choking.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">III.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Mr. Marrier was the first to recover from this -blow to the prestige of poetry. Or perhaps it would -be more honest to say that Mr. Marrier had suffered -no inconvenience from the contretemps. His -apparent gleeful zest in life had not been impaired. He -was a born optimist, of an extreme type unknown -beyond the circumferences of theatrical circles.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I <em class="italics">say</em>," he emphasised, "I've got an ideah. We -ought to be photographed like that. Do you no end -of good." He glanced encouragingly at Rose -Euclid. "Don't you see it in the illustrated papers? -'A prayvate supper-party at Wilkins's Hotel. Miss -Ra-ose Euclid reciting verse at a discussion of -the plans for her new theatre in Piccadilly Circus. -The figures reading from left to right are: -Mr. Seven Sachs, the famous actor-author; Miss Rose -Euclid; Mr. Carlo Trent, the celebrated dramatic -poet; Mr. Alderman Machin, the well-known -Midlands capitalist,' and so on!" Mr. Marrier repeated, -"and so on."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a notion," said Rose Euclid dreamily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But how <em class="italics">can</em> we be photographed?" Carlo -Trent demanded with irritation.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Perfectly easy."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"In ten minutes. I know a photographer in -Brook Street."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Would he come at once?" Carlo Trent frowned -at his watch.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Rather!" Mr. Marrier gaily soothed him, as -he went over to the telephone. And Mr. Marrier's -bright boyish face radiated forth the assurance that -nothing in all his existence had more completely -filled him with sincere joy than this enterprise of -procuring a photograph of the party. Even in -giving the photographer's number,--he was one of -those prodigies who remember infallibly all -telephone numbers,--his voice seemed to gloat upon his -project.</p> -<p class="pnext">(And while Mr. Marrier, having obtained -communication with the photographer, was saying -gloriously into the telephone: "Yes, Wilkins's. No. -Quite private. I've got Miss Rose Euclid here, and -Mr. Seven Sachs--" while Mr. Marrier was thus -proceeding with his list of star attractions, Edward -Henry was thinking: "'<em class="italics">Her</em> new theatre,'--now! -It was 'his' a few minutes back!...</p> -<p class="pnext">"The well-known Midland capitalist, eh? Oh! Ah!")</p> -<p class="pnext">He drank again. He said to himself: "I've -had all I can digest of this beastly balloony stuff." (He -meant the champagne.) "If I finish this glass, -I'm bound to have a bad night." And he finished -the glass, and planked it down firmly on the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," he remarked aloud cheerfully, "if we're -to be photographed, I suppose we shall want a bit -more light on the subject."</p> -<p class="pnext">Joseph sprang to the switches.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Please!" Carlo Trent raised a protesting hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">The switches were not turned. In the beautiful -dimness the greatest tragic actress in the world and -the greatest dramatic poet in the world gazed at -each other, seeking and finding solace in mutual esteem.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I suppose it wouldn't do to call it the Euclid -Theater?" Rose questioned casually, without -moving her eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Splendid!" cried Mr. Marrier from the telephone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It all depends whether there are enough mathematical -students in London to fill the theater for a -run," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! D'you think so?" murmured Rose, surprised -and vaguely puzzled.</p> -<p class="pnext">At that instant Edward Henry might have rushed -from the room and taken the night mail back to the -Five Towns, and never any more have ventured -into the perils of London, if Carlo Trent had not -turned his head and signified by a curt reluctant laugh -that he saw the joke. For Edward Henry could no -longer depend on Mr. Seven Sachs. Mr. Seven -Sachs had to take the greatest pains to keep the -muscles of his face in strict order. The slightest -laxity with them--and he would have been involved in -another and more serious suffocation.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," said Carlo Trent, "'The Muses' Theatre' -is the only possible title. There is money in the -poetical drama." He looked hard at Edward Henry, -as though to stare down the memory of the failure -of Nashe's verse. "I don't want money. I hate -the thought of money. But money is the only proof -of democratic appreciation, and that is what I need, -and what every artist needs.... Don't you think -there's money in the poetical drama, Mr. Sachs?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not in America," said Mr. Sachs. "London -is a queer place."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Look at the runs of Stephen Phillips's plays!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes.... I only reckon to know America."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Look at what Pilgrim's made out of Shakespeare."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I thought you were talking about poetry," said -Edward Henry too hastily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And isn't Shakespeare poetry?" Carlo Trent challenged.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I suppose if you put it in that way, he <em class="italics">is</em>!" -Edward Henry cautiously admitted, humbled. He -was under the disadvantage of never having seen or -read "Shakespeare." His sure instinct had always -warned him against being drawn into "Shakespeare."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And has Miss Euclid ever done anything finer -than Constance?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't know," Edward Henry pleaded. -"Why--Miss Euclid in 'King John'--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I never saw 'King John,'" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">Do you mean to say,</em>" expostulated Carlo Trent -in italics, "<em class="italics">that you never saw Rose Euclid as Constance?</em>"</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry, shaking his abashed head, -perceived that his life had been wasted.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo, for a few moments, grew reflective and -softer.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's one of my earliest and most precious boyish -memories," he murmured, as he examined the -ceiling. "It must have been in eighteen--"</p> -<p class="pnext">Rose Euclid abandoned the ice with which she had -just been served, and by a single gesture drew -Carlo's attention away from the ceiling and towards the -fact that it would be clumsy on his part to indulge -further in the chronology of her career. She began -to blush again.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier, now back at the table after a -successful expedition, beamed over his ice:</p> -<p class="pnext">"It was your 'Constance' that led to your friendship -with the Countess of Chell, wasn't it, Ra-ose? -You know," he turned to Edward Henry, "Miss -Euclid and the countess are virry intimate."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, I know," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">Rose Euclid continued to blush. Her agitated -hand scratched the back of the chair behind her.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Even Sir John Pilgrim admits I can act Shakespeare," -she said in a thick, mournful voice, looking -at the cloth as she pronounced the august name of -the head of the dramatic profession. "It may -surprise you to know, Mr. Machin, that about a month -ago, after he'd quarrelled with Selina Gregory, Sir -John asked me if I'd care to star with him on his -Shakespearean tour round the world next spring, -and I said I would if he'd include Carlo's poetical -play, 'The Orient Pearl,' and he wouldn't! No, -he wouldn't! And now he's got little Cora Pryde! -She isn't twenty-two, and she's going to play Juliet! -Can you imagine such a thing? As if a mere girl -could play Juliet!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo observed the mature actress with deep -satisfaction, proud of her, and proud also of himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wouldn't go with Pilgrim now," exclaimed -Rose passionately, "not if he went down on his knees -tome!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"And nothing on earth would induce me to let -him have 'The Orient Pearl'!" Carlo Trent asseverated -with equal passion. "He's lost that forever," -he added grimly. "It won't be he who'll collar the -profits out of that! It'll just be ourselves!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not if he went down on his knees to me!" Rose -was repeating to herself with fervency.</p> -<p class="pnext">The calm of despair took possession of Edward -Henry. He felt that he must act immediately--he -knew his own mood, by long experience. Exploring -the pockets of the dressing-gown which had aroused -the longing of the greatest dramatic poet in the -world, he discovered in one of them precisely the -piece of apparatus he required; namely, a slip of -paper suitable for writing. It was a carbon -duplicate of the bill for the dressing-gown, and showed -the word "Drook" in massive printed black, and -the figures £4-4-0 in faint blue. He drew a pencil -from his waistcoat and inscribed on the paper:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Go out, and then come back in a couple of -minutes and tell me someone wants to speak to me -urgently in the next room."</p> -<p class="pnext">With a minimum of ostentation he gave the document -to Joseph, who, evidently well trained under Sir -Nicholas, vanished into the next room before -attempting to read it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hope," said Edward Henry to Carlo Trent, -"that this money-making play is reserved for the -new theatre."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Utterly," said Carlo Trent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"With Miss Euclid in the principal part?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Rather!" sang Mr. Marrier. "Rather!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I shall never, never appear at any other theatre, -Mr. Machin!" said Rose with tragic emotion, once -more feeling with her fingers along the back of her -chair. "So I hope the building will begin at once. -In less than six months we ought to open."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Easily!" sang the optimist.</p> -<p class="pnext">Joseph returned to the room, and sought his -master's attention in a whisper.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What is it?" Edward Henry asked irritably. -"Speak up!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"A gentleman wishes to know if he can speak to -you in the next room, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, he can't."</p> -<p class="pnext">"He said it was urgent, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">Scowling, Edward Henry rose. "Excuse me," -he said. "I won't be a moment. Help yourselves -to the liqueurs. You chaps can go, I fancy." The -last remark was addressed to the gentlemen in waiting.</p> -<p class="pnext">The next room was the vast bedroom with two beds -in it. Edward Henry closed the door carefully, and -drew the portiére across it. Then he listened. No -sound penetrated from the scene of the supper.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There <em class="italics">is</em> a telephone in this room, isn't there?" -he said to Joseph. "Oh, yes; there it is! Well, -you can go."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry sat down on one of the beds by -the hook on which hung the telephone. And he -cogitated upon the characteristics of certain -members of the party which he had just left. "I'm a -'virgin mind,' am I?" he thought. "I'm a 'clean -slate'? Well! ... Their notion of business is to -begin by discussing the name of the theatre! And -they haven't even taken up the option! Ye gods! -'Intellectual!' 'Muses!' 'The Orient Pearl.' And -she's fifty--that I swear! Not a word yet of -real business--not one word! He may be a poet. -I dare say he is. He's a conceited ass. Why, even -Bryany was better than that lot. Only Sachs turned -Bryany out. I like Sachs. But he won't open his -mouth.... 'Capitalist!' Well, they spoilt my -appetite, and I hate champagne! ... The poet -hates money.... No, he 'hates the thought of -money.' And she's changing her mind the whole -blessed time! A month ago she'd have gone over -to Pilgrim, and the poet too, like a house a -fire! ... Photographed indeed! The bally photographer -will be here in a minute! ... They take me for a -fool! ... Or don't they know any better? ... Anyhow, -I am a fool.... I must teach 'em summat!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He seized the telephone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Hello!" he said into it. "I want you to put -me on to the drawing-room of Suite No. 48, please. -Who? Oh, me! I'm in the bedroom of Suite -No. 48. Machin, Alderman Machin. Thanks. That's -all right."</p> -<p class="pnext">He waited. Then he heard Marrier's Kensingtonian -voice in the telephone, asking who he was.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is that Mr. Machin's room?" he continued, imitating -with a broad farcical effect the acute -Kensingtonianism of Mr. Marrier's tones. "Is Miss -Ra-ose Euclid there? Oh! She is? Well, you -tell her that Sir John Pilgrim's private secretary -wishes to speak to her. Thanks. All right. <em class="italics">I'll</em> -hold the line."</p> -<p class="pnext">A pause. Then he heard Rose's voice in the -telephone, and he resumed:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss Euclid? Yes. Sir John Pilgrim. I beg -pardon! Banks? Oh, <em class="italics">Banks</em>! No, I'm not -Banks. I suppose you mean my predecessor. He's -left. Left last week. No, I don't know why. -Sir John instructs me to ask if you and Mr. Trent -could lunch with him to-morrow at wun-thirty? -What? Oh! At his house. Yes. I mean flat. -Flat! I said flat. You think you could?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Pause. He could hear her calling to Carlo Trent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Thanks. No, I don't know exactly," he went -on again. "But I know the arrangement with Miss -Pryde is broken off. And Sir John wants a play at -once. He told me that. At once! Yes. 'The -Orient Pearl.' That was the title. At the Royal -first, and then the world's tour. Fifteen months at -least, in all, so I gathered. Of course I don't speak -officially. Well, many thanks. Saoo good of you. -I'll tell Sir John it's arranged. One-thirty -to-morrow. Good-bye!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He hung up the telephone. The excited, eager, -effusive tones of Rose Euclid remained in his ears. -Aware of a strange phenomenon on his forehead, he -touched it. He was perspiring.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll teach 'em a thing or two," he muttered.</p> -<p class="pnext">And again:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Serves her right.... 'Never, never appear at -any other theatre, Mr. Machin!' ... 'Bended -knees!' ... 'Utterly!' ... Cheerful partners! -Oh, cheerful partners!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He returned to his supper-party. Nobody said -a word about the telephoning. But Rose Euclid and -Carlo Trent looked even more like conspirators than -they did before; and Mr. Marrier's joy in life -seemed to be just the least bit diminished.</p> -<p class="pnext">"So sorry!" Edward Henry began hurriedly, -and, without consulting the poet's wishes, subtly -turned on all the lights. "Now, don't you think -we'd better discuss the question of taking up the -option? You know, it expires on Friday."</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," said Rose Euclid girlishly. "It expires -to-morrow. That's why it's so <em class="italics">fortunate</em> we got -hold of you to-night."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But Mr. Bryany told me Friday. And the date -was clear enough on the copy of the option he gave me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"A mistake of copying," beamed Mr. Marrier. -"However, it's all right."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," observed Edward Henry with heartiness, -"I don't mind telling you that for sheer calm -coolness you take the cake. However, as Mr. Marrier -so ably says, it's all right. Now, I understand if I -go into this affair I can count on you absolutely, and -also on Mr. Trent's services." He tried to talk as -if he had been diplomatising with actresses and poets -all his life.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Absolutely!" said Rose.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Mr. Carlo Trent nodded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You Iscariots!" Edward Henry addressed them, -in the silence of the brain, behind his smile. "You -Iscariots!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The photographer arrived with certain cases, and -at once Rose Euclid and Carlo Trent began -instinctively to pose.</p> -<p class="pnext">"To think," Edward Henry pleasantly reflected, -"that they are hugging themselves because Sir John -Pilgrim's secretary happened to telephone just while -I was out of the room!"</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="mr-sachs-talks">CHAPTER V</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">MR. SACHS TALKS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">I.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was the sudden flash of the photographer's -magnesium light, plainly felt by him through -his closed lids, that somehow instantly inspired -Edward Henry to a definite and ruthless line of -action. He opened his eyes and beheld the triumphant -group, and the photographer himself, victorious -over even the triumphant, in a superb pose that -suggested that all distinguished mankind in his presence -was naught but food for the conquering camera. -The photographer smiled indulgently, and his smile -said: "Having been photographed by me, you -have each of you reached the summit of your career. -Be content. Retire! Die! Destiny is accomplished!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Machin," said Rose Euclid, "I do believe -your eyes were shut!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"So do I!" Edward Henry curtly agreed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But you'll spoil the group!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not a bit of it!" said Edward Henry. "I -always shut my eyes when I'm being photographed by -flash-light. I open my mouth instead. So long as -something's open, what does it matter?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The truth was that only in the nick of time had he, -by a happy miracle of ingenuity, invented a way of -ruining the photograph. The absolute necessity for -its ruin had presented itself to him rather late in the -proceedings, when the photographer had already -finished arranging the hands and shoulders of -everybody in an artistic pattern. The photograph had -to be spoilt for the imperative reason that his -mother, though she never read a newspaper, did as -a fact look at a picture newspaper, <em class="italics">The Daily Film</em>, -which from pride she insisted on paying for out of -her own purse, at the rate of one halfpenny a day. -Now <em class="italics">The Daily Film</em> specialised in theatrical -photographs, on which it said it spent large sums of -money; and Edward Henry in a vision had seen the -historic group in a future issue of the <em class="italics">Film</em>. He -had also, in the same vision, seen his mother conning -the said issue, and the sardonic curve of her lips as -she recognised her son therein, and he had even -heard her dry, cynical, contemptuous exclamation: -"Bless us!" He could never have looked squarely -in his mother's face again if that group had -appeared in her chosen organ! Her silent and grim -scorn would have crushed his self-conceit to a -miserable, hopeless pulp. Hence his resolve to render the -photograph impossible.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Perhaps I'd better take another one?" the -photographer suggested. "Though I think Mr.--er--Machin -was all right." At the supreme crisis the -man had been too busy with his fireworks to keep -a watch on every separate eye and mouth of the -assemblage.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course I was all right!" said Edward Henry, -almost with brutality. "Please take that thing -away as quickly as you can. We have business to -attend to."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, sir," agreed the photographer, no longer -victorious.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry rang the bell, and two gentlemen -in waiting arrived.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Clear this table immediately!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The tone of the command startled everybody -except the gentlemen in waiting and Mr. Seven Sachs. -Rose Euclid gave vent to her nervous giggle. The -poet and Mr. Marrier tried to appear detached and -dignified, and succeeded in appearing guiltily -confused--for which they contemned themselves. -Despite their volition, the glances of all three of -them too clearly signified: "This capitalist must -be humoured. He has an unlimited supply of -actual cash, and therefore he has the right to be -peculiar. Moreover, we know that he is a card...." And, -curiously, Edward Henry himself was deriving -great force of character from the simple reflection -that he had indeed a lot of money, real available -money, his to do utterly as he liked with it, hidden -in a secret place in that very room. "I'll show 'em -what's what!" he privately mused. "Celebrities -or not, I'll show 'em! If they think they can come -it over me--!"</p> -<p class="pnext">It was, I regret to say, the state of mind of a bully. -Such is the noxious influence of excessive coin!</p> -<p class="pnext">He reproached the greatest actress and the -greatest dramatic poet for deceiving him, and quite -ignored the nevertheless fairly obvious fact that he -had first deceived them.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now then," he began, with something of the -pomposity of a chairman at a directors' meeting, as -soon as the table had been cleared and the room -emptied of gentlemen in waiting and photographer -and photographic apparatus, "let us see exactly -where we stand."</p> -<p class="pnext">He glanced specially at Rose Euclid, who with an -air of deep business acumen returned the glance.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," she eagerly replied, as one seeking after -righteousness, "<em class="italics">do</em> let's see."</p> -<p class="pnext">"The option must be taken up to-morrow. -Good! That's clear. It came rather casual-like, -but it's now clear. £4,500 has to be paid down to -buy the existing building on the land and so on.... Eh?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes. Of course Mr. Bryany told you all that, -didn't he?" said Rose brightly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Bryany did tell me," Edward Henry -admitted sternly. "But if Mr. Bryany can make a -mistake in the day of the week he might make a -mistake in a few naughts at the end of a sum of money."</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly Mr. Seven Sachs startled them all by -emerging from his silence with the words:</p> -<p class="pnext">"The figure is O.K."</p> -<p class="pnext">Instinctively Edward Henry waited for more; but -no more came. Mr. Seven Sachs was one of those -rare and disconcerting persons who do not keep on -talking after they have finished. He resumed his -tranquillity, he re-entered into his silence, with no -symptom of self-consciousness, entirely cheerful and -at ease. And Edward Henry was aware of his -observant and steady gaze. Edward Henry said -to himself: "This man is expecting me to behave -in a remarkable way. Bryany has been telling him -all about me, and he is waiting to see if I really am -as good as my reputation. I have just got to be as -good as my reputation!" He looked up at the -electric chandelier, almost with regret that it was not -gas. One cannot light one's cigarette by twisting a -hundred-pound bank-note and sticking it into an -electric chandelier. Moreover, there were some -thousands of matches on the table. Still further, he had -done the cigarette-lighting trick once for all. A -first-class card must not repeat himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">"This money," Edward Henry proceeded, "has -to be paid to Slossons, Lord Woldo's solicitors, -to-morrow, Wednesday, rain or shine?" He finished -the phrase on a note of interrogation, and as -nobody offered any reply, he rapped on the table, and -repeated, half menacingly: "Rain or shine!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," said Rose Euclid, leaning timidly -forward, and taking a cigarette from a gold case that -lay on the table. All her movements indicated an -earnest desire to be thoroughly businesslike.</p> -<p class="pnext">"So that, Miss Euclid," Edward Henry continued -impressively but with a wilful touch of incredulity, -"you are in a position to pay your share of this -money to-morrow?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Certainly!" said Miss Euclid. And it was as -if she had said, aggrieved: "Can you doubt my honour?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"To-morrow morning?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye-es."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That is to say, to-morrow morning you will -have £2,250 in actual cash--coin, notes--actually -in your possession?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Miss Euclid's disengaged hand was feeling out -behind her again for some surface upon which to -express its emotion and hers.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well--" she stopped, flushing.</p> -<p class="pnext">("These people are astounding," Edward Henry -reflected, like a god. "She's not got the money. -I knew it!")</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's like this, Mr. Machin," Marrier began.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Excuse me, Mr. Marrier," Edward Henry turned -on him, determined if he could to eliminate the -optimism from that beaming face. "Any friend of -Miss Euclid's is welcome here, but you've already -talked about this theatre as 'ours,' and I just want -to know where you come in."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Where I come in?" Marrier smiled, absolutely -unperturbed. "Miss Euclid has appointed me -general manajah."</p> -<p class="pnext">"At what salary, if it isn't a rude question?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! We haven't settled details yet. You see -the theatre isn't built yet."</p> -<p class="pnext">"True!" said Edward Henry. "I was forgetting! -I was thinking for the moment that the -theatre was all ready and going to be opened -to-morrow night with 'The Orient Pearl.' Have you -had much experience of managing theatres, -Mr. Marrier? I suppose you have."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eho, yes!" exclaimed Mr. Marrier. "I -began life as a lawyah's clerk, but--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"So did I," Edward Henry interjected.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How interesting!" Rose Euclid murmured -with fervency, after puffing forth a long shaft of -smoke.</p> -<p class="pnext">"However, I threw it up," Marrier went on.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I didn't," said Edward Henry. "I got thrown out!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Strange that in that moment he was positively -proud of having been dismissed from his first -situation! Strange that all the company, too, thought -the better of him for having been dismissed! -Strange that Marrier regretted that he also had not -been dismissed! But so it was. The possession -of much ready money emits a peculiar effluence in -both directions--back to the past, forward into the -future.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I threw it up," said Marrier, "because the -stage had an irresistible attraction for me. I'd -been stage-manajah for an amateur company, you -knaoo. I found a shop as stage-manajah of a -company touring 'Uncle Tom's Cabin.' I stuck to that -for six years, and then I threw that up too. Then -I've managed one of Miss Euclid's provincial tours. -And since I met our friend Trent, I've had the -chance to show what my ideas about play-producing -really are. I fancy my production of Trent's -one-act play won't be forgotten in a hurry.... You -know--'The Nymph?' You read about it, didn't you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I did not," said Edward Henry. "How long -did it run?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! it didn't run. It wasn't put on for a run. -It was part of one of the Sunday-night shows of the -Play-Producing Society, at the Court Theatre. -Most intellectual people in London, you know. No -such audience anywhere else in the wahld!" His -rather chubby face glistened and shimmered with -enthusiasm. "You bet!" he added. "But that was -only by the way. My real game is management--general -management. And I think I may say I -know what it is."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Evidently!" Edward Henry concurred. "But -shall you have to give up any other engagement in -order to take charge of the Muses' Theatre? -Because if so--"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier replied:</p> -<p class="pnext">"No."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry observed:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But," said Marrier reassuringly, "if necessary -I would throw up any engagement--you understand -me, any--in favour of the Intellectual -Theatah as I prefer to call it. You see, as I own -part of the option--"</p> -<p class="pnext">By these last words Edward Henry was confounded, -even to muteness.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I forgot to mention, Mr. Machin," said Rose -Euclid very quickly. "I've disposed of a quarter -of my half of the option to Mr. Marrier. He fully -agreed with me it was better that he should have a -proper interest in the theatre."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why of course!" cried Mr. Marrier, uplifted.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let me see," said Edward Henry, after a long -breath, "a quarter--that makes it that you have -to find £562 10s, to-morrow, Mr. Marrier."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"To-morrow morning--you'll be all right?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I won't swear for the morning, but I -shall turn up with the stuff in the afternoon anyhow. -I've two men in tow, and one of them's a certainty."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Which?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't know which," said Mr. Marrier. -"Howevah, you may count on yours sincerely, Mr. Machin."</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a pause.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Perhaps I ought to tell you," Rose Euclid -smiled, "perhaps I ought to tell you that Mr. Trent -is also one of our partners. He has taken another -quarter of my half."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry controlled himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Excellent!" said he with glee. "Mr. Trent's -money all ready too?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am providing most of it--temporarily," said -Rose Euclid.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I see. Then I understand you have your three -quarters of £2,250 all ready in hand."</p> -<p class="pnext">She glanced at Mr. Seven Sachs.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Have I, Mr. Sachs?"</p> -<p class="pnext">And Mr. Sachs, after an instant's hesitation, -bowed in assent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Sachs is not exactly going into the speculation, -but he is lending us money on the security of -our interests. That's the way to put it, isn't it, -Mr. Sachs?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Sachs once more bowed.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry exclaimed:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now I really do see!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He gave one glance across the table at Mr. Seven -Sachs, as who should say: "And have you too -allowed yourself to be dragged into this affair? I -really thought you were cleverer. Don't you agree -with me that we're both fools of the most arrant -description?" And under the brief glance -Mr. Seven Sachs's calm deserted him as it had never -deserted him on the stage, where for over fifteen -hundred nights he had withstood the menace of -revolvers, poison, and female treachery through three -hours and four acts without a single moment of agitation.</p> -<p class="pnext">Apparently Miss Rose Euclid could exercise a -siren's charm upon nearly all sorts of men. But -Edward Henry knew one sort of men upon whom she -could not exercise it; namely, the sort of men who -are born and bred in the Five Towns. His instinctive -belief in the Five Towns as the sole cradle of -hard practical common sense was never stronger -than just now. You might by wiles get the better -of London and America, but not of the Five Towns. -If Rose Euclid were to go around and about the -Five Towns trying to do the siren business, she -would pretty soon discover that she was up against -something rather special in the way of human nature!</p> -<p class="pnext">Why, the probability was that these three--Rose -Euclid (only a few hours since a glorious name and -legend to him), Carlo Trent, and Mr. Marrier--could -not at that moment produce even ten pounds -between them! ... And Marrier offering to lay -fivers! ... He scornfully pitied them. And he -was not altogether without pity for Seven Sachs, who -had doubtless succeeded in life by sheer accident and -knew no more than an infant what to do with his -too easily earned money.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"Well," said Edward Henry, "shall I tell you -what I've decided?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Please do!" Rose Euclid entreated him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've decided to make you a present of my half -of the option."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But aren't you going in with us?" exclaimed -Rose, horror-struck.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, madam."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But Mr. Bryany told us positively you were! -He said it was all arranged!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Bryany ought to be more careful," said -Edward Henry. "If he doesn't mind, he'll be -telling a downright lie some day."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But you bought half the option!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry, reasoning. "What -<em class="italics">is</em> an option? What does it mean? It means you -are free to take something or leave it. I'm leaving it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But why?" demanded Mr. Marrier, gloomier.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent played with his eye-glasses and said -not a word.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?" Edward Henry replied. "Simply because -I feel I'm not fitted for the job. I don't -know enough. I don't understand. I shouldn't go -the right way about the affair. For instance, I -should never have guessed by myself that it was the -proper thing to settle the name of the theatre before -you'd got the lease of the land you're going to build -it on. Then I'm old-fashioned. I hate leaving -things to the last moment; but seemingly there's -only one proper moment in these theatrical affairs, -and that's the very last. I'm afraid there'd be too -much trusting in Providence for my taste. I -believe in trusting in Providence, but I can't bear to -see Providence overworked. And I've never even -tried to be intellectual, and I'm a bit frightened of -poetry plays--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But you've not read my play!" Carlo Trent -mutteringly protested.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That is so," admitted Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Will you read it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Trent," said Edward Henry. "I'm not -so young as I was."</p> -<p class="pnext">"We're ruined!" sighed Rose Euclid with a -tragic gesture.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ruined?" Edward Henry took her up, smiling. -"Nobody is ruined who knows where he can get a -square meal. Do you mean to tell me you don't -know where you're going to lunch to-morrow?" And -he looked hard at her.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was a blow. She blenched under it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, yes," she said, with her giggle, "I know that."</p> -<p class="pnext">("Well you just don't!" he answered her in his -heart. "You think you're going to lunch with John -Pilgrim. And you aren't. And it serves you -right!")</p> -<p class="pnext">"Besides," he continued aloud, "how can you -say you're ruined when I'm making you a present -of something that I paid £100 for?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But where am I to find the other half of the -money--£2,250?" she burst out. "We were -depending absolutely on you for it. If I don't get it, -the option will be lost, and the option's very valuable."</p> -<p class="pnext">"All the easier to find the money then!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"What? In less than twenty-four hours? It -can't be done. I couldn't get it in all London."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Marrier will get it for you ... one of -his certainties!" Edward Henry smiled in the -Five Towns' manner.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I might, you knaoo!" said Marrier, brightening -to full hope in the fraction of a second.</p> -<p class="pnext">But Rose Euclid only shook her head.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Seven Sachs, then?" Edward Henry suggested.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I should have been delighted," said Mr. Sachs -with the most perfect gracious tranquillity. "But -I cannot find another £2,250 to-morrow."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I shall just speak to that Mr. Bryany!" said -Rose Euclid, in the accents of homicide.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I think you ought to," Edward Henry concurred. -"But that won't help things. I feel a little -responsible, especially to a lady. You have a -quarter of the whole option left in your hands, Miss -Euclid. I'll pay you at the same rate as Bryany -sold to me. I gave £100 for half. Your quarter -is therefore worth £50. Well, I'll pay you £50."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And then what?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then let the whole affair slide."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But that won't help me to my theatre!" Rose -Euclid said, pouting. She was now decidedly less -unhappy than her face pretended, because Edward -Henry had reminded her of Sir John Pilgrim, and -she had dreams of world triumphs for herself and -for Carlo Trent's play. She was almost glad to -be rid of all the worry of the horrid little -prospective theatre.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have bank-notes," cooed Edward Henry softly.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her head sank.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry rose in the incomparable yellow -dressing-gown and walked to and fro a little, and -then from his secret store he produced a bundle of -notes, and counted out five tens and, coming -behind Rose, stretched out his arm and laid the -treasure on the table in front of her under the brilliant -chandelier.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't want you to feel you have anything -against me," he cooed still more softly.</p> -<p class="pnext">Silence reigned. Edward Henry resumed his -chair and gazed at Rose Euclid. She was quite a -dozen years older than his wife, and she looked -more than a dozen years older. She had no fixed -home, no husband, no children, no regular situation. -She accepted the homage of young men, who were -cleverer than herself save in one important respect. -She was always in and out of restaurants and hotels -and express trains. She was always committing -hygienic indiscretions. She could not refrain from a -certain girlishness which, having regard to her years, -her waist, and her complexion, was ridiculous. His -wife would have been afraid of her, and would -have despised her, simultaneously. She was -coarsened by the continual gaze of the gaping public. -No two women could possibly be more utterly -dissimilar than Rose Euclid and the cloistered Nellie.... -And yet, as Rose Euclid's hesitant fingers -closed on the bank-notes with a gesture of relief, -Edward Henry had an agreeable and kindly sensation -that all women were alike, after all, in the need -of a shield, a protection, a strong and generous male -hand. He was touched by the spectacle of Rose -Euclid, as naïve as any young lass when confronted -by actual bank-notes; and he was touched also by -the thought of Nellie and the children afar off, -existing in comfort and peace, but utterly, wistfully, -dependent on himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what about me?" growled Carlo Trent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The fellow was only a poet. He negligently -dropped him five fivers, his share of the option's value.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier said nothing, but his eye met Edward -Henry's, and in silence five fivers were meted -out to Mr. Marrier also.... It was so easy to -delight these persons who apparently seldom set eyes -on real ready money.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You might sign receipts, all of you, just as a -matter of form," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">A little later, the three associates were off.</p> -<p class="pnext">"As we're both in the hotel, Mr. Sachs," said -Edward Henry, "you might stay for a chat and a -drink."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Seven Sachs politely agreed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry accompanied the trio of worshippers -and worshipped to the door of his suite, but -no further, because of his dressing-gown. Rose -Euclid had assumed a resplendent opera-cloak. -They rang imperially for the lift. Lackeys bowed -humbly before them. They spoke of taxicabs and -other luxuries. They were perfectly at home in the -grandeur of the hotel. As the illuminated lift -carried them down out of sight, their smiling heads -disappearing last, they seemed exactly like persons -of extreme wealth. And indeed for the moment -they were wealthy. They had parted with certain -hopes, but they had had a windfall; and two of -them were looking forward with absolute assurance -to a profitable meal and deal with Sir John Pilgrim -on the morrow.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Funny place, London!" said the provincial to -himself as he re-entered his suite to rejoin -Mr. Seven Sachs.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">III.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"Well, sir," said Mr. Seven Sachs, "I have to -thank you for getting me out of a very -unsatisfactory situation."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Did you really want to get out of it?" asked -Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Sachs replied simply.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I did, sir. There were too many partners for -my taste."</p> -<p class="pnext">They were seated more familiarly now in the -drawing-room, being indeed separated only by a -small table upon which were glasses. And whereas -on a night in the previous week Edward Henry -had been entertained by Mr. Bryany in a private -parlour at the Turk's Head, Hanbridge, on this -night he was in a sort repaying the welcome to -Mr. Bryany's master in a private parlour at Wilkins's, -London. The sole difference in favour of -Mr. Bryany was that, while Mr. Bryany provided -cigarettes and whisky, Edward Henry was providing -only cigarettes and Vichy water. Mr. Seven -Sachs had said that he never took whisky; and -though Edward Henry's passion for Vichy water -was not quite ungovernable, he thought well to give -rein to it on the present occasion, having read -somewhere that Vichy water placated the stomach.</p> -<p class="pnext">Joseph had been instructed to retire.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And not only that," resumed Mr. Seven Sachs, -"but you've got a very good thing entirely into your -own hands! Masterly, sir! Masterly! Why, at -the end you positively had the air of doing them a -favour! You made them believe you <em class="italics">were</em> doing -them a favour."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And don't you think I was?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Sachs reflected, and then laughed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You were," he said. "That's the beauty of it. -But at the same time you were getting away with -the goods!"</p> -<p class="pnext">It was by sheer instinct, and not by learning, that -Edward Henry fully grasped, as he did, the deep -significance of the American idiom employed by -Mr. Seven Sachs. He, too, laughed, as Mr. Sachs had -laughed. He was immeasurably flattered. He -had not been so flattered since the Countess of -Chell had permitted him to offer her China tea, -meringues, and Berlin pancakes at the Sub Rosa -tea-rooms in Hanbridge--and that was a very long -time ago.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You really <em class="italics">do</em> think it's a good thing?" Edward -Henry ventured, for he had not yet been convinced -of the entire goodness of theatrical enterprise -near Piccadilly Circus.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Seven Sachs convinced him--not by argument, -but by the sincerity of his gestures and tones; -for it was impossible to question that Mr. Seven -Sachs knew what he was talking about. The shape -of Mr. Seven Sachs' chin was alone enough to prove -that Mr. Sachs was incapable of a mere ignorant -effervescence. Everything about Mr. Sachs was -persuasive and confidence-inspiring. His long -silences had the easy vigour of oratory, and they -served also to make his speech peculiarly -impressive. Moreover, he was a handsome and a dark -man, and probably half a dozen years younger than -Edward Henry. And the discipline of lime-light -had taught him the skill to be forever graceful. -And his smile, rare enough, was that of a boy.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course," said he, "if Miss Euclid and the -others had had any sense, they might have done -very well for themselves. If you ask me, the -option alone is worth ten thousand dollars. But then -they haven't any sense! And that's all there is to it!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"So you'd advise me to go ahead with the affair -on my own?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Seven Sachs, his black eyes twinkling, leaned -forward and became rather intimately humorous:</p> -<p class="pnext">"You look as if you wanted advice, don't you?" -said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I suppose I do, now I come to think of it!" -agreed Edward Henry with a most admirable quizzicalness; -in spite of the fact that he had not really -meant to "go ahead with the affair," being in truth -a little doubtful of his capacity to handle it.</p> -<p class="pnext">But Mr. Seven Sachs was, all unconsciously, -forcing Edward Henry to believe in his own capacities; -and the two, as it were, suddenly developed a more -cordial friendliness. Each felt the quick lifting of -the plane of their relations, and was aware of a -pleasurable emotion.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm moving onwards--gently onwards," -crooned Edward Henry to himself. "What price -Brindley and his half-crown now?" Londoners -might call him a provincial, and undoubtedly would -call him a provincial; he admitted, even, that he -felt like a provincial in the streets of London. -And yet here he was, "doing Londoners in the eye -all over the place," and receiving the open homage -of Mr. Seven Sachs, whose name was the basis of -a cosmopolitan legend.</p> -<p class="pnext">And now he made the cardinal discovery, which -marks an epoch in the life of every man who arrives -at it, that world-celebrated persons are very like -other persons. And he was happy and rather proud -in this discovery, and began to feel a certain vague -desire to tell Mr. Seven Sachs the history of his -career--or at any rate the picturesque portions of -it. For he, too, was famous in his own sphere; -and in the drawing-room of Wilkins's one celebrity -was hobnobbing with another! ("Put that in your -pipe and smoke it, Mr. Brindley!") Yes, he was -happy, both in what he had already accomplished, -and in the contemplation of romantic adventures to come.</p> -<p class="pnext">And yet his happiness was marred--not fatally, -but quite appreciably--by a remorse that no -amount of private argument with himself would -conjure away. Which was the more singular in that -a morbid tendency to remorse had never been among -Edward Henry's defects! He was worrying, foolish -fellow, about the false telephone-call in which, -for the purpose of testing Rose Euclid's loyalty to -the new enterprise, he had pretended to be the new -private secretary of Sir John Pilgrim. Yet what -harm had it done? And had it not done a lot of -good? Rose Euclid and her youthful worshipper -were no worse off than they had been before being -victimised by the deceit of the telephone-call. Prior -to the call they had assumed themselves to be -deprived forever of the benefits which association with -Sir John Pilgrim could offer, and as a fact they -were deprived forever of such benefits. Nothing -changed there! Before the call they had had no -hope of lunching with the enormous Sir John on the -morrow, and as a fact they would not lunch with -the enormous Sir John on the morrow. Nothing -changed there either! Again, in no event would -Edward Henry have joined the trio in order to -make a quartette in partnership. Even had he been -as convinced of Rose's loyalty as he was convinced -of her disloyalty, he would never have been rash -enough to co-operate with such a crew. Again, -nothing changed!</p> -<p class="pnext">On the other hand, he had acquired an assurance -of the artiste's duplicity, which assurance had made -it easier for him to disappoint her, while the -prospect of a business repast with Sir John had helped -her to bear the disappointment as a brave woman -should. It was true that on the morrow, about -lunch-time, Rose Euclid and Carlo Trent might have -to live through a few rather trying moments, and -they would certainly be very angry; but these -drawbacks would have been more than compensated for -in advance by the pleasures of hope. And had they -not between them pocketed seventy-five pounds -which they had stood to lose?</p> -<p class="pnext">Such reasoning was unanswerable, and his remorse -did not attempt to answer it. His remorse was -not open to reason; it was one of those stupid, -primitive sentiments which obstinately persist in the -refined and rational fabric of modern humanity.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was just sorry for Rose Euclid.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you know what I did?" he burst out confidentially, -and confessed the whole telephone trick -to Mr. Seven Sachs.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Seven Sachs, somewhat to Edward Henry's -surprise, expressed high admiration of the device.</p> -<p class="pnext">"A bit mean, though, don't you think?" -Edward Henry protested weakly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not at all!" cried Mr. Sachs. "You got the -goods on her. And she deserved it."</p> -<p class="pnext">(Again this enigmatic and mystical word -"goods"! But he understood it.)</p> -<p class="pnext">Thus encouraged, he was now quite determined -to give Mr. Seven Sachs a brief episodic account -of his career. A fair conversational opening was -all he wanted in order to begin.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wonder what will happen to her--ultimately?" -he said, meaning to work back from the -ends of careers to their beginnings, and so to himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Rose Euclid?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Sachs shook his head compassionately.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How did Mr. Bryany get in with her?" asked -Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bryany is a highly peculiar person," said -Mr. Seven Sachs familiarly. "He's all right so long -as you don't unstrap him. He was born to convince -newspaper reporters of his own greatness."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I had a bit of talk with him myself," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, yes! He told me all about you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But <em class="italics">I</em> never told him anything about myself," -said Edward Henry quickly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, but he has eyes, you know, and ears too. -Seems to me the people of the Five Towns do little -else of a night but discuss you, Mr. Machin. <em class="italics">I</em> -heard a good bit when <em class="italics">I</em> was down there, though -I don't go about much when I'm on the road. -I reckon I could write a whole biography of you."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry smiled self-consciously. He was -of course enraptured, but at the same time it was -disappointing to find Mr. Sachs already so fully -informed as to the details of his career. However, -he did not intend to let that prevent him from -telling the story afresh, in his own manner.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I suppose you've had your adventures too," he -remarked with nonchalance, partly from politeness, -but mainly in order to avoid the appearance of hurry -in his egotism.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">IV.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"You bet I have!" Mr. Seven Sachs cordially -agreed, abandoning the end of a cigarette, putting -his hands behind his head, and crossing his legs.</p> -<p class="pnext">Whereupon there was a brief pause.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I remember--" Edward Henry began.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I dare say you've heard--" began Mr. Seven -Sachs simultaneously.</p> -<p class="pnext">They were like two men who by inadvertence had -attempted to pass through a narrow doorway -abreast. Edward Henry, as the host, drew back.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I beg your pardon!" he apologised.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not at all," said Seven Sachs. "I was only -going to say you've probably heard that I was -always up against Archibald Florance."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Really!" murmured Edward Henry, impressed -in spite of himself; for the renown of Archibald -Florance exceeded that of Seven Sachs as the sun the -moon, and was older and more securely established -than it as the sun the moon. The renown of Rose -Euclid was as naught to it. Doubtful it was -whether, in the annals of modern histrionics, the -grandeur and the romance of that American name -could be surpassed by any renown save that of the -incomparable Henry Irving. The retirement of -Archibald Florance from the stage a couple of -years earlier had caused crimson gleams of sunset -splendour to shoot across the Atlantic and irradiate -even the Garrick Club, London, so that the -members thereof had to shade their offended eyes. -Edward Henry had never seen Archibald Florance, -but it was not necessary to have seen him in order -to appreciate the majesty of his glory. No male -in the history of the world was ever more -photographed, and few have been the subject of more -anecdotes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I expect he's a wealthy chap in his old age," -said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Wealthy!" exclaimed Mr. Sachs. "He's the -richest actor in America, and that's saying in the -world. He had the greatest reputation. He's still -the handsomest man in the United States--that's -admitted--with his white hair! They used to say -he was the cruellest, but it's not so. Though of -course he could be a perfect terror with his companies."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And so you knew Archibald Florance?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You bet I did. He never had any friends--never--but -I knew him as well as anybody could. -Why, in San Francisco, after the show, I've walked -with him back to his hotel, and he's walked with -me back to mine, and so on, and so on, till three -or four o'clock in the morning. You see, we -couldn't stop until it happened that he finished a -cigar at the exact moment when we got to his hotel -door. If the cigar wasn't finished, then he must -needs stroll back a bit, and before I knew where -I was he'd be lighting a fresh one. He smoked -the finest cigars in America. I remember him -telling me they cost him three dollars apiece."</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry then perceived another -profound truth, his second cardinal discovery on that -notable evening; namely, that no matter how high -you rise, you will always find that others have risen -higher. Nay, it is not until you have achieved a -considerable peak that you are able to appreciate -the loftiness of those mightier summits. He -himself was high, and so he could judge the greater -height of Seven Sachs; and it was only through the -greater height of Seven Sachs that he could form -an adequate idea of the pinnacle occupied by the -unique Archibald Florance. Honestly, he had -never dreamt that there existed a man who habitually -smoked twelve-shilling cigars--and yet he reckoned -to know a thing or two about cigars!</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am nothing!" he thought modestly. Nevertheless, -though the savour of the name of Archibald -Florance was agreeable, he decided that he had -heard enough for the moment about Archibald -Florance, and that he would relate to Mr. Sachs -the famous episode of his own career in which the -Countess of Chell and a mule had so prominently -performed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I remember--" he recommenced.</p> -<p class="pnext">"My first encounter with Archibald Florance was -very funny," proceeded Mr. Seven Sachs, blandly -deaf. "I was starving in New York,--trying to -sell a new razor on commission,--and I was -determined to get on to the stage. I had one -visiting card left--just one. I wrote 'Important' on -it, and sent it up to Wunch. I don't know whether -you've ever heard of Wunch. Wunch was Archibald -Florence's stage-manager, and nearly as famous -as Archibald himself. Well, Wunch sent for me -up-stairs to his room, but when he found I was only -the usual youngster after the usual job he just had -me thrown out of the theatre. He said I'd no -right to put 'Important' on a visiting card. 'Well,' -I said to myself, 'I'm going to get back into that -theatre somehow!' So I went up to Archibald's -private house--Sixtieth Street I think it was, and -asked to see him, and I saw him. When I got -into his room, he was writing. He kept on writing -for some minutes, and then he swung round on his chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'And what can I do for you, sir?' he said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Do you want any actors, Mr. Florance?' I said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Are you an actor?' he said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'I want to be one,' I said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Well,' he said, 'there's a school round the corner.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Well,' I said, 'you might give me a card of -introduction, Mr. Florance.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"He gave me the card. I didn't take it to the -school. I went straight back to the theatre with it, -and had it sent up to Wunch. It just said, -'Introducing Mr. Sachs, a young man anxious to get -on.' Wunch took it for a positive order to find me a -place. The company was full, so he threw out one -poor devil of a super to make room for me. -Curious thing--old Wunchy got it into his head that -I was a <em class="italics">protégé</em> of Archibald's, and he always looked -after me. What d'ye think about that?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Brilliant!" said Edward Henry. And it was! -The simplicity of the thing was what impressed him. -Since winning a scholarship at school by altering the -number of marks opposite his name on a paper -lying on the master's desk, Edward Henry had never -achieved advancement by a device so simple. And -he thought: "I am nothing! The Five Towns -is nothing! All that one hears about Americans and -the United States is true. As far as getting on -goes, they can make rings round us. Still, I shall -tell him about the countess and the mule--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," continued Mr. Seven Sachs, "Wunch was -very kind to me. But he was pretty well down and -out, and he left, and Archibald got a new -stage-manager, and I was promoted to do a bit of -assistant stage-managing. But I got no increase of -salary. There were two women stars in the play -Archibald was doing then--'The Forty-Niners.' Romantic -drama, you know! Melodrama you'd -call it over here. He never did any other sort of -play. Well, these two women stars were about -equal, and when the curtain fell on the first act -they'd both make a bee-line for Archibald to see -who'd get to him first and engage him in talk. They -were jealous enough, of each other to kill. -Anybody could see that Archibald was frightfully bored, -but he couldn't escape. They got him on both sides, -you see, and he just <em class="italics">had</em> to talk to 'em, both at once. -I used to be fussing around fixing the properties -for the next act. Well, one night he comes up to -me, Archibald does, and he says:</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Mr.--what's your name?'</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Sachs, sir,' I says.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'You notice when those two ladies come up to -me after the first act. Well, when you see them -talking to me, I want you to come right along and -interrupt,' he says.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'What shall I say, sir?'</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Tap me on the shoulder, and say I'm wanted -about something very urgent. You see?'</p> -<p class="pnext">"So the next night when those women got hold -of him, sure enough, I went up between them and -tapped him on the shoulder. 'Mr. Florance,' I -said, 'something very urgent.' He turned on me -and scowled: 'What is it?' he said, and he looked -very angry. It was a bit of the best acting the old -man ever did in his life. It was so good that at -first I thought it was real. He said again louder, -'What is it?' So I said, 'Well, Mr. Florance, the -most urgent thing in this theatre is that I should have -an increase in salary!' I guess I licked the -stuffing out of him that time."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry gave vent to one of those cordial -and violent guffaws which are a specialty of the -humorous side of the Five Towns. And he said to -himself: "I should never have thought of -anything as good as that."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And did you get it?" he asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The old man said not a word," Mr. Seven -Sachs went on in the same even tranquil smiling -voice. "But next pay-day I found I'd got a rise of -ten dollars a week. And not only that, but -Mr. Florance offered me a singing part in his new -drama, if I could play the mandolin. I naturally -told him I'd played the mandolin all my life. I -went out and bought a mandolin and hired a teacher. -He wanted to teach me the mandolin, but I only -wanted him to teach me that one accompaniment. -So I fired him, and practised by myself night and -day for a week. I got through all the rehearsals -without ever singing that song. Cleverest dodging -I ever did! On the first night I was so nervous I -could scarcely hold the mandolin. I'd never played -the infernal thing before anybody at all--only up -in my bedroom. I struck the first chord, and found -the darned instrument was all out of tune with the -orchestra. So I just pretended to play it, and -squawked away with my song, and never let my -fingers touch the strings at all. Old Florance was -waiting for me in the wings. I knew he was going -to fire me. But no! 'Sachs,' he said, 'that -accompaniment was the most delicate piece of playing -I ever heard. I congratulate you.' He was quite -serious. Everybody said the same! Luck, eh?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I should say so," said Edward Henry, gradually -beginning to be interested in the odyssey of -Mr. Seven Sachs. "I remember a funny thing that -happened to me--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"However," Mr. Sachs swept smoothly along, -"that piece was a failure. And Archibald arranged -to take a company to Europe with 'Forty-Miners.' And -I was left out! This rattled me, specially -after the way he liked my mandolin-playing. So -I went to see him about it in his dressing-room one -night, and I charged around a bit. He did rattle -me! Then I raided him. I would get an answer -out of him. He said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"'I'm not in the habit of being cross-examined -in my own dressing-room.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"I didn't care what happened then, so I said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"'And I'm not in the habit of being treated as -you're treating me.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"All of a sudden he became quite quiet, and -patted me on the shoulder. 'You're getting on very -well, Sachs,' he said. 'You've only been at it one -year. It's taken me twenty-five years to get where I am.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"However, I was too angry to stand for that sort -of talk. I said to him:</p> -<p class="pnext">"'I dare say you're a very great and enviable -man, Mr. Florance, but I propose to save fifteen -years on your twenty-five. I'll equal or better your -position in ten years.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"He shoved me out--just shoved me out of the -room.... It was that that made me turn to -play-writing. Florance wrote his own plays sometimes, -but it was only his acting and his face that saved -them. And they were too American. He never -did really well outside America except in one play, -and that wasn't his own. Now, I was out after -money. And I still am. I wanted to please the -largest possible public. So I guessed there was -nothing for it but the universal appeal. I never -write a play that won't appeal to England, Germany, -France, just as well as to America. America's big, -but it isn't big enough for me.... Well, as I was -saying, soon after that I got a one-act play -produced at Hannibal, Missouri. And the same week -there was a company at another theatre there -playing the old man's 'Forty-Niners.' And the next -morning the theatrical critic's article in the -Hannibal <em class="italics">Courier-Post</em> was headed: 'Rival attractions. -Archibald Florance's "Forty-Niners" and new play -by Seven Sachs.' I cut that heading out and sent -it to the old man in London, and I wrote under it, -'See how far I've got in six months.' When he -came back he took me into his company again.... -What price that, eh?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry could only nod his head. The -customarily silent Seven Sachs had little by little -subdued him to an admiration as mute as it was profound.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nearly five years after that I got a Christmas -card from old Florance. It had the usual printed -wishes,--'Merriest possible Christmas, and so on,'--but -underneath that Archibald had written in -pencil, 'You've still five years to go.' That made -me roll my sleeves up, as you may say. Well, a -long time after that I was standing at the corner of -Broadway and Forty-fourth Street, and looking at -my own name in electric letters on the Criterion -Theatre. First time I'd ever seen it in electric -letters on Broadway. It was the first night of -'Overheard.' Florance was playing at the -Hudson Theatre, which is a bit higher up Forty-fourth -Street, and <em class="italics">his</em> name was in electric letters too, but -further off Broadway than mine. I strolled up, just -out of idle curiosity, and there the old man was -standing in the porch of the theatre, all alone! -'Hullo, Sachs,' he said, 'I'm glad I've seen you. -It's saved me twenty-five cents.' I asked how. He -said, 'I was just going to send you a telegram of -congratulations.' He liked me, old Archibald did. -He still does. But I hadn't done with him. I went -to stay with him at his house on Long Island in -the spring. 'Excuse me, Mr. Florance,' I says to -him. 'How many companies have you got on the -road?' He said, 'Oh! I haven't got many now. -Five, I think.' 'Well,' I says. 'I've got six here -in the United States, two in England, three in -Austria, and one in Italy.' He said, 'Have a cigar, -Sachs; you've got the goods on me!' He was -living in that magnificent house all alone, with a whole -regiment of servants."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">V.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"Well," said Edward Henry, "you're a great man!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I'm not," said Mr. Seven Sachs. "But my -income is four hundred thousand dollars a year, and -rising. I'm out after the stuff, that's all."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I say you are a great man!" Edward Henry -repeated. Mr. Sachs' recital had inspired him. -He kept saying to himself: "And I'm a great -man too. And I'll show 'em."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Sachs, having delivered himself of his load, -had now lapsed comfortably back into his original -silence, and was prepared to listen. But Edward -Henry somehow had lost the desire to enlarge on -his own variegated past. He was absorbed in the -greater future.</p> -<p class="pnext">At length he said very distinctly:</p> -<p class="pnext">"You honestly think I could run a theatre?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You were born to run a theatre," said Seven Sachs.</p> -<p class="pnext">Thrilled, Edward Henry responded:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then I'll write to those lawyer people, Slossons, -and tell 'em I'll be around with the brass about -eleven to-morrow."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Sachs rose. A clock had delicately chimed two.</p> -<p class="pnext">"If ever you come to New York, and I can do -anything for you--" said Mr. Sachs heartily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Thanks," said Edward Henry. They were -shaking hands. "I say," Edward Henry went on, -"there's one thing I want to ask you. Why <em class="italics">did</em> -you promise to back Rose Euclid and her friends? -You must surely have known--" He threw up his hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Sachs answered:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll be frank with you. It was her cousin that -persuaded me into it--Elsie April."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Elsie April? Who's she?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! You must have seen them about together--her -and Rose Euclid. They're nearly always together."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I saw her in the restaurant here to-day with a -rather jolly girl--blue hat."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's the one. As soon as you've made her -acquaintance you'll understand what I mean," said -Mr. Seven Sachs.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah! But I'm not a bachelor like you," Edward -Henry smiled archly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, you'll see when you meet her," said Mr. Sachs. -Upon which enigmatic warning he departed, -and was lost in the immense glittering nocturnal -silence of Wilkins's.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry sat down to write to Slossons by -the three A.M. post. But as he wrote he kept -saying to himself: "So Elsie April's her name, is it? -And she actually persuaded Sachs--Sachs--to -make a fool of himself!"</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="lord-woldo-and-lady-woldo">CHAPTER VI</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">LORD WOLDO AND LADY WOLDO</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The next morning Joseph, having opened -wide the window, informed his master that -the weather was bright and sunny, and -Edward Henry arose with just that pleasant degree -of fatigue which persuades one that one is, if -anything, rather more highly vitalised than usual. He -sent for Mr. Bryany, as for a domestic animal, and -Mr. Bryany, ceremoniously attired, was received by -a sort of jolly king who happened to be trimming -his beard in the royal bathroom, but who was too -good-natured to keep Mr. Bryany waiting. It is -remarkable how the habit of royalty, having once -taken root, will flourish in the minds of quite -unmonarchical persons. Edward Henry first enquired -after the health of Mr. Seven Sachs, and then -obtained from Mr. Bryany all remaining papers and -trifles of information concerning the affair of the -option. Whereupon Mr. Bryany, apparently much -elated by the honour of an informal reception, -effusively retired. And Edward Henry too was so -elated, and his faith in life so renewed and -invigorated that he said to himself:</p> -<p class="pnext">"It might be worth while to shave my beard off -after all!"</p> -<p class="pnext">As in his electric brougham he drove along muddy -and shining Piccadilly, he admitted that Joseph's -account of the weather had been very accurate. The -weather was magnificent; it presented the best -features of summer combined with the salutary -pungency of autumn. And flags were flying over the -establishments of tobacconists, soothsayers, and -insurance companies in Piccadilly. And the sense of -empire was in the very air, like an intoxication. -And there was no place like London. When, however, -having run through Piccadilly into streets less -superb, he reached the Majestic, it seemed to him -that the Majestic was not a part of London, but a -bit of the provinces surrounded by London. He -was very disappointed with the Majestic, and took -his letters from the clerk with careless condescension. -In a few days the Majestic had sunk from -being one of "London's huge caravanserais" to the -level of a swollen Turk's Head. So fragile are -reputations!</p> -<p class="pnext">From the Majestic, Edward Henry drove back -into the regions of Empire, between Piccadilly and -Regent Street, and deigned to call upon his tailors. -A morning suit which he had commanded being -miraculously finished, he put it on, and was at once -not only spectacularly but morally regenerated. -The old suit, though it had cost five guineas in its -time, looked a paltry and a dowdy thing as it lay, -flung down anyhow, on one of Messrs. Quayther and -Cuthering's cane chairs in the mirrored cubicle where -baronets and even peers showed their braces to the -benign Mr. Cuthering.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I want to go to Piccadilly Circus now. Stop at -the fountain," said Edward Henry to his chauffeur. -He gave the order somewhat defiantly, because he -was a little self-conscious in the new and gleaming -suit, and because he had an absurd idea that the -chauffeur might guess that he, a provincial from -the Five Towns, was about to venture into West -End theatrical enterprise, and sneer at him accordingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">But the chauffeur merely touched his cap with an -indifferent lofty gesture, as if to say:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Be at ease. I have driven more persons more -moonstruck even than you. Human eccentricity has -long since ceased to surprise me."</p> -<p class="pnext">The fountain in Piccadilly Circus was the gayest -thing in London. It mingled the fresh tingling of -water with the odour and flame of autumn blossoms -and the variegated colours of shawled women who -passed their lives on its margin engaged in the -commerce of flowers. Edward Henry bought an aster -from a fine, bold, red-cheeked, blowsy, dirty wench -with a baby in her arms, and left some change for -the baby. He was in a very tolerant and charitable -mood, and could excuse the sins and the stupidity -of all mankind. He reflected forgivingly that -Rose Euclid and her friends had perhaps not -displayed an abnormal fatuity in discussing the name -of the theatre before they had got the lease of the -site for it. Had not he himself bought all the -option without having even seen the site? The fact -was that he had had no leisure in his short royal -career for such details as seeing the site. He was -now about to make good the omission.</p> -<p class="pnext">It is a fact that as he turned northward from -Piccadilly Circus, to the right of the County Fire -Office, in order to spy out the land upon which his -theatre was to be built, he hesitated, under the -delusion that all the passers-by were staring at him! -He felt just as he might have felt had he been -engaged upon some scheme nefarious. He even went -back and pretended to examine the windows of the -County Fire Office. Then, glancing self-consciously -about, he discerned--not unnaturally--the words -"Regent Street" on a sign.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There you are!" he murmured with a thrill. -"There you are! There's obviously only one name -for that theatre--'The Regent.' It's close to -Regent Street. No other theatre is called 'The -Regent.' Nobody before ever had the idea of -'Regent' as a name for a theatre. 'Muses' -indeed! ... 'Intellectual!' ... 'The Regent -Theatre!' How well it comes off the tongue! It's -a great name! It'll be the finest name of any -theatre in London! And it took yours truly to think -of it!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he smiled privately at his own weakness.... -He too, like the despised Rose, was baptising -the unborn! Still, he continued to dream of the -theatre, and began to picture to himself the ideal -theatre. He discovered that he had quite a -number of startling ideas about theatre-construction, -based on his own experience as a playgoer.</p> -<p class="pnext">When, with new courage, he directed his feet -towards the site, upon which he knew there was an -old chapel known as Queen's Glasshouse Chapel, -whose ownership had slipped from the nerveless -hand of a dying sect of dissenters, he could not -find the site, and he could not see the chapel. For -an instant he was perturbed by a horrid suspicion -that he had been victimised by a gang of swindlers -posing as celebrated persons. Everything was -possible in this world and century. None of the -people who had appeared in the transaction had -resembled his previous conceptions of such people! -And confidence-thieves always operated in the -grandest hotels! He immediately decided that if -the sequel should prove him to be a simpleton and -gull he would at any rate be a silent simpleton and -gull. He would stoically bear the loss of two -hundred pounds, and breathe no word of woe.</p> -<p class="pnext">But then he remembered with relief that he had -genuinely recognised both Rose Euclid and Seven -Sachs; and also that Mr. Bryany, among other -documents, had furnished him with a photograph -of the chapel and surrounding property. The -chapel therefore existed. He had a plan in his -pocket. He now opened this plan and tried to -consult it in the middle of the street, but his -agitation was such that he could not make out on it -which was north and which was south. After he -had been nearly prostrated by a taxicab, a policeman -came up to him and said with all the friendly disdain -of a London policeman addressing a provincial:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Safer to look at that on the pavement, sir!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry glanced up from the plan.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I was trying to find the Queen's Glasshouse -Chapel, Officer," said he. "Have you ever heard -of it?" (In Bursley, members of the town council -always flattered members of the force by addressing -them as "Officer"; and Edward Henry knew exactly -the effective intonation.)</p> -<p class="pnext">"It <em class="italics">was there</em>, sir," said the policeman, less -disdainful, pointing to a narrow hoarding behind which -could be seen the back walls of high buildings in -Shaftesbury Avenue. "They've just finished -pulling it down."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Thank you," said Edward Henry quietly, with -a superb and successful effort to keep as much colour -in his face as if the policeman had not dealt him a -dizzying blow.</p> -<p class="pnext">He then walked towards the hoarding, but could -scarcely feel the ground under his feet. From a -wide aperture in the palisades a cartful of earth -was emerging; it creaked and shook as it was -dragged by a labouring horse over loose planks into -the roadway; a whip-cracking carter hovered on its -flank. Edward Henry approached the aperture and -gazed within. An elegant young man stood solitary -inside the hoarding and stared at a razed expanse -of land in whose furthest corner some navvies were -digging a hole....</p> -<p class="pnext">The site!</p> -<p class="pnext">But what did this sinister destructive activity -mean? Nobody was entitled to interfere with -property on which he, Alderman Machin, held an -unexpired option! But was it the site? He -perused the plan again with more care. Yes, there -could be no doubt that it was the site. His eye -roved round, and he admitted the justice of the -boast that an electric sign displayed at the southern -front corner of the theatre would be visible from -Piccadilly Circus, lower Regent Street, Shaftesbury -Avenue, etc. He then observed a large noticeboard, -raised on posts above the hoardings, and -read the following:</p> -<p class="center pnext white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">Site<br /> -of the<br /> -First New Thought Church<br /> -to be opened next Spring.<br /> -Subscriptions invited.<br /> -Rollo Wrissell, Senior Trustee.<br /> -Ralph Alloyd, Architect.<br /> -Dicks and Pato, Builders.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">The name of Rollo Wrissell seemed familiar to -him, and after a few moments' searching he recalled -that Rollo Wrissell was one of the trustees and -executors of the late Lord Woldo, the other being -the widow, and the mother of the new Lord Woldo. -In addition to the lettering, the notice-board held -a graphic representation of the First New Thought -Church as it would be when completed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry, not perhaps -unjustifiably, "this really is a bit thick! Here I've -got an option on a plot of land for building a theatre, -and somebody else has taken it to put up a church!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He ventured inside the hoarding, and, addressing -the elegant young man, asked:</p> -<p class="pnext">"You got anything to do with this, Mister?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said the young man, smiling humorously, -"I'm the architect. It's true that nobody -ever pays any attention to an architect in these days."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! You're Mr. Alloyd?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Alloyd had black hair, intensely black, -changeful eyes, and the expressive mouth of an -actor.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I thought they were going to build a theatre -here," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wish they had been!" said Mr. Alloyd. "I'd -just like to design a theatre! But of course I shall -never get the chance."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why not?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I know I sha'n't," Mr. Alloyd insisted with -gloomy disgust. "Only obtained this job by sheer -accident! ... You got any ideas about theatres?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I have," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Alloyd turned on him with a sardonic and -half-benevolent gleam.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what are your ideas about theatres?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry, "I should like to -meet an architect who had thoroughly got it into his -head that when people pay for seats to see a play -they want to be able to <em class="italics">see</em> it, and not just get a -look at it now and then over other people's heads -and round corners of boxes and things. In most -theatres that I've been in, the architects seemed to -think that iron pillars and wooden heads are -transparent. Either that, or the architects were rascals. -Same with hearing. The pit costs half a crown, and -you don't pay half a crown to hear glasses rattled -in a bar, or motor-omnibuses rushing down the -street. I was never yet in a London theatre where -the architect had really understood that what the -people in the pit wanted to hear was the play, and -nothing but the play."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're rather hard on us," said Mr. Alloyd.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not so hard as you are on <em class="italics">us</em>!" said Edward -Henry. "And then draughts! I suppose you -think a draught on the back of the neck is good for -us! ... But of course you'll say all this has -nothing to do with architecture!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, no, I sha'n't! Oh, no, I sha'n't!" -exclaimed Mr. Alloyd. "I quite agree with you!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You <em class="italics">do</em>?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Certainly. You seem to be interested in theatres?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am a bit."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You come from the North?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I don't," said Edward Henry. Mr. Alloyd -had no right to be aware that he was not a Londoner.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I beg your pardon."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I come from the Midlands."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! ... Have you seen the Russian ballet?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry had not, nor heard of it. -"Why?" he asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nothing," said Mr. Alloyd. "Only I saw it the -night before last in Paris. You never saw such -dancing. It's enchanted--enchanted! The most -lovely thing I ever saw in my life. I couldn't sleep -for it. Not that I ever sleep very well! I merely -thought, as you were interested in theatres--and -Midland people are so enterprising! ... Have a -cigarette?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry, who had begun to feel sympathetic, -was somewhat repelled by these odd last -remarks. After all the man, though human enough, -was an utter stranger.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, thanks," he said. "And so you're going to -put up a church here?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I wonder whether you are."</p> -<p class="pnext">He walked abruptly away under Alloyd's riddling -stare, and he could almost hear the man saying, -"Well, he's a queer lot, if you like."</p> -<p class="pnext">At the corner of the site, below the spot where -his electric sign was to have been, he was stopped -by a well-dressed middle aged lady who bore a -bundle of papers.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Will you buy a paper for the cause?" she -suggested in a pleasant, persuasive tone. "One penny."</p> -<p class="pnext">He obeyed, and she handed him a small blue-printed -periodical of which the title was, <em class="italics">Azure</em>, -"the Organ of the New Thought Church." He -glanced at it, puzzled, and then at the middle-aged -lady.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Every penny of profit goes to the Church-Building -Fund," she said, as if in defence of her action.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry burst out laughing; but it was a -nervous, half-hysterical laugh that he laughed.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">In Carey Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, he descended -from his brougham in front of the offices of -Messrs. Slosson, Hodge, Budge, Slosson, Maveringham, -Slosson, and Vulto, Solicitors, known in the -profession by the compendious abbreviation of Slossons. -Edward Henry, having been a lawyer's clerk some -twenty-five years earlier, was aware of Slossons. -Although on the strength of his youthful clerkship -he claimed, and was admitted, to possess a very -special knowledge of the law,--enough to silence -argument when his opponent did not happen to be -an actual solicitor,--he did not in truth possess a -very special knowledge of the law,--how should he, -seeing that he had only been a practitioner of -shorthand?--but the fame of Slosson he positively was -acquainted with! He had even written letters to -the mighty Slossons.</p> -<p class="pnext">Every lawyer and lawyer's clerk in the realm -knew the greatness of Slossons, and crouched before -it, and also, for the most part, impugned its -righteousness with sneers. For Slossons acted for the -ruling classes of England, who only get value for -their money when they are buying something that -they can see, smell, handle, or intimidate--such as -a horse, a motor-car, a dog, or a lackey. Slossons, -those crack solicitors, like the crack nerve specialists -in Harley Street and the crack fortune-tellers in -Bond Street, sold their invisible, inodorous, and -intangible wares of advice at double, treble, or -decuple their worth, according to the psychology of -the customer. They were great bullies. And they -were, further, great money-lenders--on behalf of -their wealthier clients. In obedience to a convenient -theory that it is imprudent to leave money too -long in one place, they were continually calling in -mortgages and re-lending the sums so collected on -fresh investments, thus achieving two bills of costs -on each transaction, and sometimes three, besides -employing an army of valuers, surveyors, and -mortgage-insurance brokers. In short, Slossons had nothing -to learn about the art of self-enrichment.</p> -<p class="pnext">Three vast motor-cars waited in front of their -ancient door, and Edward Henry's hired electric -vehicle was diminished to a trifle.</p> -<p class="pnext">He began by demanding the senior partner, who -was denied to him by an old clerk with a face like -a stone wall. Only his brutal Midland insistence, -and the mention of the important letter which he -had written to the firm in the middle of the night, -saved him from the ignominy of seeing no partner -at all. At the end of the descending ladder of -partners he clung desperately to Mr. Vulto, and he -saw Mr. Vulto--a youngish and sarcastic person -with blue eyes, lodged in a dark room at the back -of the house. It occurred fortunately that his -letter had been allotted to precisely Mr. Vulto for the -purpose of being answered.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You got my letter?" said Edward Henry cheerfully -as he sat down at Mr. Vulto's flat desk on the -side opposite from Mr. Vulto.</p> -<p class="pnext">"We got it, but frankly we cannot make head or -tail of it! ... <em class="italics">What</em> option?" Mr. Vulto's manner -was crudely sarcastic.</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">This</em> option!" said Edward Henry, drawing -papers from his pocket and putting down the right -paper in front of Mr. Vulto with an uncompromising slap.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Vulto picked up the paper with precautions, -as if it were a contagion, and, assuming eye-glasses, -perused it with his mouth open.</p> -<p class="pnext">"We know nothing of this," said Mr. Vulto, and -it was as though he had added, "Therefore this -does not exist." He glanced with sufferance at the -window, which offered a close-range view of a -whitewashed wall.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then you weren't in the confidence of your client?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"The late Lord Woldo?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Pardon me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Obviously you weren't in his confidence as -regards this particular matter."</p> -<p class="pnext">"As you say," said Mr. Vulto with frigid irony.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, what are you going to do about it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well--nothing." Mr. Vulto removed his -eye-glasses and stood up.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, good morning. I'll walk round to my -solicitors." Edward Henry seized the option.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That will be simpler," said Mr. Vulto. Slossons -much preferred to deal with lawyers than with -laymen, because it increased costs and vitalised the -profession.</p> -<p class="pnext">At that moment a stout, red-faced, and hoary man -puffed very authoritatively into the room.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Vulto," he cried sharply, "Mr. Wrissell's here. -Didn't they tell you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, Mr. Slosson," answered Vulto, suddenly -losing all his sarcastic quality and becoming a very -junior partner. "I was just engaged with Mr.--" -(he paused to glance at his desk)--"Machin, whose -singular letter we received this morning about an -alleged option on the lease of the chapel-site at -Piccadilly Circus--the Woldo estate, sir. You -remember, sir?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"This the man?" enquired Mr. Slosson, ex-president -of the Law Society, with a jerk of the thumb.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry said: "This is the man."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Mr. Slosson, lifting his chin and -still puffing, "it would be extremely interesting to -hear his story, at any rate. I was just telling -Mr. Wrissell about it. Come this way, sir. I've heard -some strange things in my time, but--" He -stopped. "Please follow me, sir," he ordained.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm dashed if I'll follow you!" Edward Henry -desired to say, but he had not the courage to say -it. And because he was angry with himself he -determined to make matters as unpleasant as possible -for the innocent Mr. Slosson, who was used to -bullying, and so well paid for bullying, that really no -blame could be apportioned to him. It would have -been as reasonable to censure an ordinary person for -breathing as to censure Mr. Slosson for bullying. -And so Edward Henry was steeling himself: "I'll -do him in the eye for that, even if it costs me every -cent I've got." (A statement characterised by -poetical licence!)</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">III.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Mr. Slosson, senior, heard Edward Henry's story, -but seemingly did not find it quite as interesting as -he had prophesied it would be. When Edward -Henry had finished the old man drummed on an -enormous table, and said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, yes. And then?" His manner was far -less bullying than in the room of Mr. Vulto.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's your turn now, Mr. Slosson," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"My turn? How?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"To go on with the story." He glanced at the -clock. "I've brought it up to date--eleven -fifteen o'clock this morning, <em class="italics">anno domini</em>." And as -Mr. Slosson continued to drum on the table and to -look out of the window, Edward Henry also -drummed on the table and looked out of the window.</p> -<p class="pnext">The chamber of the senior partner was a very -different matter from Mr. Vulto's. It was immense. -It was not disfigured by japanned boxes inartistically -lettered in white, as are most lawyers' offices. -Indeed, in aspect it resembled one of the cosier rooms -in a small and decaying but still comfortable club. -It had easy chairs and cigar-boxes. Moreover, the -sun got into it, and there was a view of the comic -yet stately Victorian Gothic of the Law Courts. -The sun enheartened Edward Henry. And he felt -secure in an unimpugnable suit of clothes; in the -shape of his collar, the colour of his necktie, the -style of his creaseless boots; and in the protuberance -of his pocketbook in his pocket.</p> -<p class="pnext">As Mr. Slosson had failed to notice the -competition of his drumming, he drummed still louder. -Whereupon Mr. Slosson stopped drumming. -Edward Henry gazed amiably around. Right at the -back of the room, before a back window that gave -on the whitewashed wall, a man was rapidly putting -his signature to a number of papers. But Mr. Slosson -had ignored the existence of this man, treating -him apparently as a figment of the disordered brain, -or as an optical illusion.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've nothing to say," said Mr. Slosson.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Or to do?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Or to do."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, Mr. Slosson," said Edward Henry, "your -junior partner has already outlined your policy of -masterly inactivity. So I may as well go. I did -say I'd go to my solicitors; but it's occurred to me -that as I'm a principal I may as well first of all see -the principals on the other side. I only came here -because it mentions in the option that the matter is -to be completed here; that's all."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You a principal!" exclaimed Mr. Slosson. "It -seems to me you're a long way removed from a -principal. The alleged option is given to a Miss Rose -Euclid."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Excuse me--<em class="italics">the</em> Miss Rose Euclid."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss Rose Euclid. She divides up her alleged -interest into fractions and sells them here and there, -and you buy them up one after another." Mr. Slosson -laughed, not unamiably. "You're a principal -about five times removed."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry, "whatever I am, -I have a sort of idea I'll go and see this Mr. Gristle -or Wrissell. Can you--"</p> -<p class="pnext">The man at the distant desk turned his head. -Mr. Slosson coughed. The man rose.</p> -<p class="pnext">"This is Mr. Wrissell," said Mr. Slosson with a -gesture from which confusion was not absent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good morning," said the advancing Mr. Rollo -Wrissell, and he said it with an accent more -Kensingtonian than any accent that Edward Henry had -ever heard. His lounging and yet elegant walk -assorted well with the accent. His black clothes were -loose and untidy. Such boots as his could not have -been worn by Edward Henry even in the Five Towns -without blushing shame, and his necktie looked as if -a baby or a puppy had been playing with it. -Nevertheless, these shortcomings made absolutely no -difference whatever to the impressiveness of Mr. Rollo -Wrissell, who was famous for having said once: -"I put on whatever comes to hand first, and people -don't seem to mind."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Rollo Wrissell belonged to one of the seven -great families which once governed--and, by the -way, still do govern--England, Scotland, and -Ireland. The members of these families may be -divided into two species: those who rule, and those -who are too lofty in spirit even to rule--those who -exist. Mr. Rollo Wrissell belonged to the latter -species. His nose and mouth had the exquisite -refinement of the descendant of generations of -art-collectors and poet-patronisers. He enjoyed life, -but not with rude activity, like the grosser members -of the ruling caste, rather with a certain rare -languor. He sniffed and savoured the whole spherical -surface of the apple of life with those delicate -nostrils rather than bit into it. His one conviction was -that in a properly managed world nothing ought to -occur to disturb or agitate the perfect tranquillity -of his existing. And this conviction was so -profound, so visible even in his lightest gesture and -glance, that it exerted a mystic influence over the -entire social organism, with the result that practically -nothing ever did occur to disturb or agitate the -perfect tranquillity of Mr. Rollo Wrissell's existing. -For Mr. Rollo Wrissell the world was indeed almost ideal.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry breathed to himself:</p> -<p class="pnext">"This is the genuine article."</p> -<p class="pnext">And, being an Englishman, he was far more -impressed by Mr. Wrissell than he had been by the -much vaster reputations of Rose Euclid, Seven -Sachs, Mr. Slosson, senior. At the same time he -inwardly fought against Mr. Wrissell's silent and -unconscious dominion over him, and all the defiant -Midland belief that one body is as good as -anybody else surged up in him--but stopped at his lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Please don't rise," Mr. Wrissell entreated, -waving both hands. "I'm very sorry to hear of this -unhappy complication," he went on to Edward -Henry with the most adorable and winning -politeness. "It pains me." (His martyred expression -said: "And really I ought not to be pained.") "I'm -quite convinced that you are here in absolute -good faith--the most absolute good faith, Mr.--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Machin," suggested Mr. Slosson.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah! Pardon me, Mr. Machin. And, naturally, -in the management of enormous estates such -as Lord Woldo's little difficulties are apt to occur.... -I'm sorry you've been put in a false position. -You have all my sympathies. But of course you -understand that in this particular case.... I myself -have taken up the lease from the estate. I happen -to be interested in a great movement. The plans -of my church have been passed by the county -council. Building operations have indeed begun."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, chuck it!" said Edward Henry inexcusably--but -such were his words. A surfeit of -Mr. Wrissell's calm egotism and accent and fatigued -harmonious gestures drove him to commit this -outrage upon the very fabric of civilisation.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Wrissell, if he had ever met with the phrase,--which -is doubtful,--had certainly never heard it -addressed to himself; conceivably he might have -once come across it in turning over the pages of a -slang dictionary. A tragic expression traversed his -bewildered features; and then he recovered himself -somewhat.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Go and bury yourself!" said Edward Henry, -with increased savagery.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Wrissell, having comprehended, went. He -really did go. He could not tolerate scenes, and -his glance showed that any forcible derangement of -his habit of existing smoothly would nakedly disclose -the unyielding adamantine selfishness that was the -basis of the Wrissell philosophy. His glance was -at least harsh and bitter. He went in silence, and -rapidly. Mr. Slosson, senior, followed him at a -great pace.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry was angry. Strange though it -may seem, the chief cause of his anger was the fact -that his own manners and breeding were lower, -coarser, clumsier, more brutal, than Mr. Wrissell's.</p> -<p class="pnext">After what appeared to be a considerable absence -Mr. Slosson, senior, returned into the room. Edward -Henry, steeped in peculiar meditations, was repeating:</p> -<p class="pnext">"So this is Slosson's!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's that?" demanded Mr. Slosson with a -challenge in his ancient but powerful voice.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nowt!" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, sir," said Mr. Slosson, "we'd better come -to an understanding about this so-called option. It's -not serious, you know."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll find it is."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's not commercial."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I fancy it is--for me!" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The premium mentioned is absurdly inadequate, -and the ground-rent is quite improperly low."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's just why I look on it as commercial--from -my point of view," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It isn't worth the paper it's written on," said -Mr. Slosson.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Because, seeing the unusual form of it, it ought -to be stamped, and it isn't stamped."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Listen here, Mr. Slosson," said Edward Henry, -"I want you to remember that you're talking to a -lawyer."</p> -<p class="pnext">"A lawyer?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I was in the law for years," said Edward Henry. -"And you know as well as I do that I can get the -option stamped at any time by paying a penalty, -which at worst will be a trifle compared to the value -of the option."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah!" Mr. Slosson paused, and resumed his -puffing, which exercise--perhaps owing to undue -excitement--he had pretermitted. "Then further, -the deed isn't drawn up."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's not my fault."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Further, the option is not transferable."</p> -<p class="pnext">"We shall see about that."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And the money ought to be paid down to-day, -even on your own showing--every cent of it, in cash."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here is the money," said Edward Henry, drawing -his pocketbook from his breast. "Every cent -of it, in the finest brand of bank-notes!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He flung down the notes with the impulsive gesture -of an artist; then, with the caution of a man of -the world, gathered them in again.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The whole circumstances under which the -alleged option is alleged to have been given would -have to be examined," said Mr. Slosson.</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">I</em> sha'n't mind," said Edward Henry; "others might."</p> -<p class="pnext">"There is such a thing as undue influence."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss Euclid is fifty if she's a day," replied -Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't see what Miss Euclid's age has to do -with the matter."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then your eyesight must be defective, Mr. Slosson."</p> -<p class="pnext">"The document might be a forgery."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It might. But I've got an autograph letter -written entirely in the last Lord Woldo's hand, -enclosing the option."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let me see it, please."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Certainly, but in a court of law," said Edward -Henry. "You know you're hungry for a good action, -followed by a bill of costs as long as from here -to Jericho."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Wrissell will assuredly fight," said -Mr. Slosson. "He has already given me the most -explicit instructions. Mr. Wrissell's objection to a -certain class of theatres is well-known."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And does Mr. Wrissell settle everything?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Wrissell and Lady Woldo settle everything -between them, and Lady Woldo is guided by -Mr. Wrissell. There is an impression abroad that -because Lady Woldo was originally connected--er--with -the stage, she and Mr. Wrissell are not -entirely at one in the conduct of her and her son's -interests. Nothing could be further from the fact."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry's thoughts dwelt for a few -moments upon the late Lord Woldo's picturesque and -far-resounding marriage.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Can you give me Lady Woldo's address?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I can't," said Mr. Slosson after an instant's hesitation.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You mean you won't!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Slosson pursed his lips.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, you can do the other thing!" said -Edward Henry, insolent to the last.</p> -<p class="pnext">As he left the premises he found Mr. Rollo -Wrissell and his own new acquaintance, Mr. Alloyd, the -architect, chatting in the portico. Mr. Wrissell was -calm, bland, and attentive; Mr. Alloyd was eager, -excited, and deferential.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry caught the words "Russian ballet." He -reflected upon an abstract question oddly -disconnected with the violent welter of his sensations: -"Can a man be a good practical architect who isn't -able to sleep because he's seen a Russian ballet?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The alert chauffeur of the electric brougham, who -had an excellent idea of effect, brought the admirable -vehicle to the curb exactly in front of Edward Henry -as Edward Henry reached the edge of the pavement. -Ejaculating a brief command, Edward Henry -disappeared within the vehicle, and was whirled away -in a style whose perfection no scion of a governing -family could have bettered.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">IV.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The next scene in the exciting drama of Edward -Henry's existence that day took place in a building -as huge as Wilkins's itself. As the brougham -halted at its portals an old and medalled man rushed -forth, touched his cap, and assisted Edward Henry -to alight. Within the groined and echoing hall of -the establishment a young boy sprang out and, with -every circumstance of deference, took Edward -Henry's hat and stick. Edward Henry then walked -a few steps to a lift, and said "Smoking-room!" to -another menial, who bowed humbly before him, and -at the proper moment bowed him out of the lift. -Edward Henry, crossing a marble floor, next entered -an enormous marble apartment chiefly populated by -easy chairs and tables. He sat down to a table, and -fiercely rang a bell which reposed thereon. Several -other menials simultaneously appeared out of -invisibility, and one of them hurried obsequiously -towards him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bring me a glass of water and a peerage," said -Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I beg pardon, sir. A glass of water and--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"A peerage. P double e-r-a-g-e."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I beg your pardon, sir. I didn't catch. Which -peerage, sir? We have several."</p> -<p class="pnext">"All of them."</p> -<p class="pnext">In a hundred seconds, the last menial having -thanked him for kindly taking the glass and the pile -of books, Edward Henry was sipping water and -studying peerages. In two hundred seconds he was -off again. A menial opened the swing-doors of the -smoking-room for him, and bowed. The menial -of the lift bowed, wafted him downwards, and -bowed. The infant menial produced his hat and -stick and bowed. The old and medalled menial -summoned his brougham with a frown at the chauffeur -and a smile at Edward Henry, bowed, opened the -door of the brougham, helped Edward Henry in, -bowed, and shut the door.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Where to, sir?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"262 Eaton Square," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Thank you, sir," said the aged menial, and -repeated in a curt and peremptory voice to the -chauffeur, "262 Eaton Square!" Lastly he touched -his cap.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry swiftly left the precincts of -the headquarters of political democracy in London.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">V.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">As he came within striking distance of 262 Eaton -Square he had the advantage of an unusual and -brilliant spectacle.</p> -<p class="pnext">Lord Woldo was one of the richest human beings -in England--and incidentally he was very human. -If he had been in a position to realise all his assets -and go to America with the ready money, his wealth -was such that even amid the luxurious society of -Pittsburg he could have cut quite a figure for some -time. He owned a great deal of the land between -Oxford Street and Regent Street, and again a -number of the valuable squares north of Oxford Street -were his, and as for Edgware Road--just as -auctioneers advertise a couple of miles of trout-stream -or salmon-river as a pleasing adjunct to a country -estate, so, had Lord Woldo's estate come under the -hammer, a couple of miles of Edgware Road might -have been advertised as among its charms. Lord -Woldo owned four theatres, and to each theatre -he had his private entrance, and in each theatre his -private box, over which the management had no -sway. The Woldos in their leases had always -insisted on this.</p> -<p class="pnext">He never built in London; his business was to let -land for others to build upon, the condition being -that what others built should ultimately belong to -him. Thousands of people in London were only too -delighted to build on these terms: he could pick and -choose his builders. (The astute Edward Henry -himself, for example, wanted furiously to build for -him, and was angry because obstacles stood in the -path of his desire.) It was constantly happening -that under legal agreements some fine erection put -up by another hand came into the absolute -possession of Lord Woldo without one halfpenny of -expense to Lord Woldo. Now and then a whole -street would thus tumble all complete into his hands. -The system, most agreeable for Lord Woldo and -about a dozen other landlords in London, was called -the leasehold system; and when Lord Woldo -became the proprietor of some bricks and mortar that -had cost him nothing, it was said that one of Lord -Woldo's leases had "fallen in," and everybody was -quite satisfied by this phrase.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the provinces, besides castles, forests, and -moors, Lord Woldo owned many acres of land -under which was coal, and he allowed enterprising -persons to dig deep for this coal, and often explode -themselves to death in the adventure, on the -understanding that they paid him sixpence for every ton -of coal brought to the surface, whether they made -any profit on it or not. This arrangement was -called "mining rights"--another phrase that -apparently satisfied everybody.</p> -<p class="pnext">It might be thought that Lord Woldo was, as -they say, on velvet. But the velvet, if it could be so -described, was not of so rich and comfortable a -pile after all; for Lord Woldo's situation involved -many and heavy responsibilities, and was surrounded -by grave dangers. He was the representative of an -old order going down in the unforeseeable welter of -twentieth-century politics. Numbers of thoughtful -students of English conditions spent much of their -time in wondering what would happen one day to -the Lord Woldos of England. And when a really -great strike came, and a dozen ex-artisans met in a -private room of a West End hotel and decided, -without consulting Lord Woldo, or the Prime Minister, -or anybody, that the commerce of the country should -be brought to a standstill, these thoughtful students -perceived that even Lord Woldo's situation was no -more secure than other people's; in fact, that it was -rather less so.</p> -<p class="pnext">There could be no doubt that the circumstances of -Lord Woldo furnished him with food for thought, -and very indigestible food too.... Why, at least -one hundred sprightly female creatures were being -brought up in the hope of marrying him. And they -would all besiege him, and he could only marry one -of them--at once!</p> -<p class="pnext">Now, as Edward Henry stopped as near to No. 262 -as the presence of a waiting two-horse carriage -permitted, he saw a gray-haired and blue-cloaked -woman solemnly descending the steps of the portico -of No. 262. She was followed by another similar -woman, and watched by a butler and a footman at -the summit of the steps, and by a footman on the -pavement, and by the coachman on the box of the -carriage. She carried a thick and lovely white -shawl, and in this shawl was Lord Woldo and all -his many and heavy responsibilities. It was his -fancy to take the air thus, in the arms of a woman. -He allowed himself to be lifted into the open -carriage, and the door of the carriage was shut; and -off went the two ancient horses, slowly, and the two -adult fat men and the two mature spinsters, and the -vehicle weighing about a ton; and Lord Woldo's -morning promenade had begun.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Follow that!" said Edward Henry to the -chauffeur, and nipped into his brougham again. -Nobody had told him that the being in the shawl was -Lord Woldo, but he was sure that it must be so.</p> -<p class="pnext">In twenty minutes he saw Lord Woldo being -carried to and fro amid the groves of Hyde Park -(one of the few bits of London earth that did not -belong to him nor to his more or less distant -connections) while the carriage waited. Once Lord -Woldo sat on a chair, but the chief nurse's lap was -between him and the chair-seat. Both nurses chattered -to him in Kensingtonian accents, but he offered -no replies.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Go back to 262," said Edward Henry to his chauffeur.</p> -<p class="pnext">Arrived again in Eaton Square, he did not give -himself time to be imposed upon by the grandiosity -of the square in general nor of No. 262 in particular. -He just ran up the steps and rang the visitors' bell.</p> -<p class="pnext">"After all," he said to himself as he waited, -"these houses aren't even semi detached! They're -just houses in a row, and I bet every one of 'em can -hear the piano next door!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The butler whom he had previously caught sight -of opened the great portal.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I want to see Lady Woldo."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Her ladyship--" began the formidable official.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now look here my man," said Edward Henry -rather in desperation, "I must see Lady Woldo -instantly. It's about the baby--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"About his lordship?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes. And look lively, please."</p> -<p class="pnext">He stepped into the sombre and sumptuous hall.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," he reflected, "I am going it--no mistake!"</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VI.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">He was in a large back drawing-room, of which -the window, looking north, was in rich stained glass. -"No doubt because they're ashamed of the view," -he said to himself. The size of the chimneypiece -impressed him, and also its rich carving. "But -what an old-fashioned grate!" he said to himself. -"They need gilt radiators here." The doorway -was a marvel of ornate sculpture, and he liked it. -He liked too the effect of the oil-paintings--mainly -portraits--on the walls, and the immensity of the -brass fender, and the rugs, and the leatherwork of -the chairs. But there could be no question that the -room was too dark for the taste of any householder -clever enough to know the difference between a house -and a church.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a plunging noise at the door behind him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's amiss?" he heard a woman's voice. -And as he heard it he thrilled with sympathetic -vibrations. It was not a North Staffordshire voice, -but it was a South Yorkshire voice, which is almost -the same thing. It seemed to him to be the first -un-Kensingtonian voice to soothe his ears since he had -left the Five Towns. Moreover, nobody born -south of the Trent would have said, "What's -amiss?" A Southerner would have said, "What's -the matter?" Or, more probably, "What's the mattah?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He turned and saw a breathless and very beautiful -woman of about twenty-nine or thirty, clothed in -black, and she was in the act of removing from her -lovely head what looked like a length of red flannel. -He noticed too, simultaneously, that she was suffering -from a heavy cold. A majestic footman behind -her closed the door and disappeared.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Are you Lady Woldo?" Edward Henry asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," she said. "What's this about my baby?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've just seen him in Hyde Park," said Edward -Henry. "And I observed that a rash had broken -out all over his face."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I know that," she replied. "It began this -morning, all of a sudden like. But what of it? I -was rather alarmed myself, as it's the first rash he's -had, and he's the first baby I've had--and he'll be -the last too. But everybody said it was nothing. -He's never been out without me before, but I had -such a cold. Now, you don't mean to tell me that -you've come down specially from Hyde Park to -inform me about that rash. I'm not such a simpleton -as all that." She spoke in one long breath.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm sure you're not," said he. "But we've had -a good deal of rash in our family, and it just -happens that I've got a remedy--a good, sound, -north-country remedy, and it struck me you might like to -know of it. So, if you like, I'll telegraph to my -missis for the recipe. Here's my card."</p> -<p class="pnext">She read his name, title, and address.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," she said, "it's very kind of you, I'm sure, -Mr. Machin. I knew you must come from up there -the moment ye spoke. It does one good above a -bit to hear a plain north-country voice after all this -fal-lalling."</p> -<p class="pnext">She blew her lovely nose.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Doesn't it!" Edward Henry agreed. "That -was just what I thought when I heard you say 'Bless -us!' Do you know, I've been in London only a -two-three days, and I assure you I was beginning to -feel lonely for a bit of the Midland accent!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," she said, "London's lonely!" and sighed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"My eldest was bitten by a dog the other day," -he went on in the vein of gossip.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, don't!" she protested.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes. Gave us a lot of anxiety. All right now! -You might like to know that cyanide gauze is a good -thing to put on a wound--supposing anything should -happen to yours--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, don't!" she protested. "I do hope and -pray Robert will never be bitten by a dog. Was it -a big dog?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Fair," said Edward Henry. "So his name's -Robert! So's my eldest's!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Really now! They wanted him to be called -Robert Philip Stephen Darrand Patrick. But I -wouldn't have it. He's just Robert. I did have -my own way <em class="italics">there</em>! You know he was born six -months after his father's death."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And I suppose he's ten months now?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No; only six."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Great Scott! He's big!" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said she, "he is. I am, you see."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, Lady Woldo," said Edward Henry in a -new tone, "as we're both from the same part of the -country, I want to be perfectly straight and above -board with you. It's quite true--all that about the -rash. And I <em class="italics">did</em> think you'd like to know. But -that's not really what I came to see you about. You -understand, not knowing you, I fancied there might -be some difficulty in getting at you--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, no!" she said simply. "Everybody gets at me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I didn't know, you see. So I just -mentioned the baby to begin with, like!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hope you're not after money," she said almost -plaintively.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm not," he said. "You can ask anybody in -Bursley or Hanbridge whether I'm the sort of man -to go out on the cadge."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I once was in the chorus in a panto at Hanbridge," -she said. "Don't they call Bursley 'Bosley' -down there--'owd Bosley'?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry dealt suitably with these remarks, -and then gave her a judicious version of the nature -of his business, referring several time to Mr. Rollo -Wrissell.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Wrissell!" she murmured, smiling.</p> -<p class="pnext">"In the end I told Mr. Wrissell to go and bury -himself," said Edward Henry. "And that's about -as far as I've got."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, don't!" she said, her voice weak from -suppressed laughter, and then the laughter burst forth -uncontrollable.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," he said, delighted with himself and her, -"I told him to go and bury himself!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I suppose you don't like Mr. Wrissell?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well--" he temporised.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I didn't at first," she said. "I hated him. But -I like him now, though I must say I adore teasing -him. Mr. Wrissell is what I call a gentleman. -You know he was Lord Woldo's heir. And when -Lord Woldo married me it was a bit of a blow for -him! But he took it like a lamb. He never turned -a hair, and he was more polite than any of them. -I dare say you know Lord Woldo saw me in a -musical comedy at Scarborough--he has a place near -there, ye know. Mr. Wrissell had made him angry -about some of his New Thought fads, and I do -believe he asked me to marry him just to annoy -Mr. Wrissell. He used to say to me, my husband did, -that he'd married me in too much of a hurry, and -that it was too bad on Mr. Wrissell. And then he -laughed, and I laughed too. 'After all,' he used -to say, my husband did, 'to marry an actress is an -accident that might happen to any member of the -House of Lords; and it does happen to a lot of 'em, -but they don't marry anything as beautiful as you, -Blanche,' he used to say. 'And you stick up for -yourself, Blanche,' he used to say. 'I'll stand by -you,' he said. He was a straight 'un, my husband was.</p> -<p class="pnext">"They left me alone until he died. And then -they began--I mean <em class="italics">his</em> folks. And when Bobby -was born it got worse. Only I must say even then -Mr. Wrissell never turned a hair. Everybody -seemed to make out that I ought to be very grateful -to him, and I ought to think myself very lucky. -Me--a peeress of the realm! They wanted me to -change. But how could I change? I was Blanche -Wilmot, on the road for ten years,--never got a -show in London,--and Blanche Wilmot I shall ever -be, peeress or no peeress! It was no joke being -Lord Woldo's wife, I can tell you; and it's still less -of a joke being Lord Woldo's mother. You imagine -it. It's worse than carrying about a china vase all -the time on a slippery floor. Am I any happier now -than I was before I married? Well, I <em class="italics">am</em>! -There's more worry in one way, but there's less in -another. And of course I've got Bobby! But it -isn't all beer and skittles, and I let 'em know it, too. -I can't do what I like. And I'm just a sort of exile, -you know. I used to enjoy being on the stage, and -showing myself off. A hard life, but one does enjoy -it. And one gets used to it. One gets to need it. -Sometimes I feel I'd give anything to be able to go -on the stage again--oh--oh--!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She sneezed; then took breath.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Shall I put some more coal on the fire?" -Edward Henry suggested.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Perhaps I'd better ring," she hesitated.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I'll do it."</p> -<p class="pnext">He put coal on the fire.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And if you'd feel easier with that flannel round -your head, please do put it on again."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," she said, "I will. My mother used to -say there was naught like red flannel for a cold."</p> -<p class="pnext">With an actress' skill she arranged the flannel, -and from its encircling folds her face emerged -bewitching--and she knew it. Her complexion had -suffered in ten years of the road, but its extreme -beauty could not yet be denied. And Edward Henry -thought: "All the <em class="italics">really</em> pretty girls come from -the Midlands!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here I am rambling on," she said. "I always -was a rare rambler. What do you want me to do?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Exert your influence," he replied. "Don't you -think it's rather hard on Rose Euclid--treating her -like this? Of course people say all sorts of things -about Rose Euclid--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I won't hear a word against Rose Euclid," cried -Lady Woldo. "Whenever she was on tour, if she -knew any of us were resting in the town where she -was, she'd send us seats. And many's the time I've -cried and cried at her acting. And then she's the -life and soul of the Theatrical Ladies' Guild."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And isn't that your husband's signature?" he -demanded, showing the precious option.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course it is."</p> -<p class="pnext">He did not show her the covering letter.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And I've no doubt my husband <em class="italics">wanted</em> a -theatre built there, and he wanted to do Rose -Euclid a good turn. And I'm quite positive certain -sure that he didn't want any of Mr. Wrissell's -rigmaroles on his land. He wasn't that sort, my -husband wasn't.... You must go to law about it," -she finished.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," said Edward Henry protestingly. "And -a pretty penny it would cost me! And supposing -I lost, after all? ... You never know. There's -a much easier way than going to law."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What is it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"As I say, you exert your influence, Lady Woldo. -Write and tell them I've seen you and you insist--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh! Bless you! They'd twist me round their -little finger. I'm not a fool, but I'm not very clever; -I know that. I shouldn't know whether I was standing -on my head or my heels by the time they'd done -with me. I've tried to face them out before--about -things."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who, Mr. Wrissell or Slossons?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Both! Eh, but I should like to put a spoke in -Mr. Wrissell's wheel, gentleman as he is. You see, -he's just one of those men you can't help wanting -to tease. When you're on the road you meet lots -of 'em."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I tell you what you can do!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"What?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Write and tell Slossons that you don't wish -them to act for you any more, and you'll go to -another firm of solicitors. That would bring 'em to -their senses."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Can't! They're in the will. <em class="italics">He</em> settled that. -That's why they're so cocky."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry persisted, and this time with an -exceedingly impressive and conspiratorial air:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I tell you another thing you could do--you -really <em class="italics">could</em> do--and it depends on nobody but -yourself."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," she said with decision, "I'll do it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Whatever it is?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"If it's straight."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course it's straight. And it would be a grand -way of teasing Mr. Wrissell and all of 'em! A -simply grand way! I should die of laughing."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well--"</p> -<p class="pnext">At this critical point the historic conversation was -interrupted by phenomena in the hall which Lady -Woldo recognised with feverish excitement. Lord -Woldo had safely returned from Hyde Park. -Starting up, she invited Edward Henry to wait a -little. A few moments later they were bending over -the infant together, and Edward Henry was offering -his views on the cause and cure of rash.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VII.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Early on the same afternoon Edward Henry -managed by a somewhat excessive obstreperousness -to penetrate once more into the private room of -Mr. Slosson, senior, who received him in silence.</p> -<p class="pnext">He passed a document to Mr. Slosson.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's only a copy," he said, "but the original is -in my pocket, and to-morrow it will be duly stamped. -I'll give you the original in exchange for the -stamped lease of my Piccadilly Circus plot of land. -You know the money is waiting."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Slosson perused the document; and it was -certainly to his credit that he did so without any -superficial symptoms of dismay.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What will Mr. Wrissell and the Woldo family -say about that, do you think?" asked Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Lady Woldo will never be allowed to carry it -out," said Mr. Slosson.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who's going to stop her? She must carry it -out. She wants to carry it out. She's dying to -carry it out. Moreover, I shall communicate it to -the papers to-night--unless you and I come to an -arrangement. And if by any chance she doesn't -carry it out--well, there'll be a fine society action -about it, you can bet your boots, Mr. Slosson."</p> -<p class="pnext">The document was a contract made between -Blanche Lady Woldo of the one part and Edward -Henry Machin of the other part, whereby Blanche -Lady Woldo undertook to appear in musical comedy -at any West End theatre to be named by Edward -Henry, at a salary of two hundred pounds a week, -for the period of six months.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've not got a theatre," said Mr. Slosson.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I can get half a dozen in an hour--with that -contract in my hand," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">And he knew from Mr. Slosson's face that he had won.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VIII.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">That evening, feeling that he had earned a little -recreation, he went to the Empire Theatre--not -in Hanbridge, but in Leicester Square, London. -The lease, with a prodigious speed hitherto unknown -at Slossons, had been drawn up, engrossed, and -executed. The Piccadilly Circus land was his for -sixty-four years.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And I've got the old chapel pulled down for -nothing," he said to himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was rather happy as he wandered about amid -the brilliance of the Empire Promenade. But after -half an hour of such exercise, and of vain efforts -to see or hear what was afoot on the stage, he began -to feel rather lonely. Then it was that he caught -sight of Mr. Alloyd the architect, also lonely.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Mr. Alloyd curtly, with a sardonic -smile, "they've telephoned me all about it. I've -seen Mr. Wrissell. Just my luck! So you're the -man! He pointed you out to me this morning. -My design for that church would have knocked the -West End! Of course Mr. Wrissell will pay me -compensation, but that's not the same thing. I -wanted the advertisement of the building.... Just -my luck! Have a drink, will you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry ultimately went with the plaintive -Mr. Alloyd to his rooms in Adelphi Terrace. He -quitted those rooms at something after two o'clock -in the morning. He had practically given -Mr. Alloyd a definite commission to design the Regent -Theatre. Already he was practically the proprietor -of a first-class theatre in the West End of London!</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wonder whether Master Seven Sachs could -have bettered my day's work to-day!" he reflected -as he got into a taxicab. He had dismissed his -electric brougham earlier in the evening. "I doubt -if even Master Seven Sachs himself wouldn't be -proud of my little scheme in Eaton Square!" said -he.... "Wilkins's Hotel, please, driver."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst x-large" id="corner-stone">THE OLD ADAM</p> -<p class="center large pnext">PART II</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER VII</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CORNER-STONE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">I.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">On a morning in spring Edward Henry got -out of an express at Euston, which had -come, not from the Five Towns, but from -Birmingham. Having on the previous day been -called to Birmingham on local and profitable -business, he had found it convenient to spend the night -there and telegraph home that London had -summoned him. It was in this unostentatious, this -half-furtive fashion, that his visits to London now -usually occurred. Not that he was afraid of his wife! -Not that he was afraid even of his mother! Oh, -no! He was merely rather afraid of himself,--of -his own opinion concerning the metropolitan, -non-local, speculative, and perhaps unprofitable business -to which he was committed. The fact was that he -could scarcely look his women in the face when he -mentioned London. He spoke vaguely of "real -estate" enterprise, and left it at that. The women -made no enquiries; they too, left it at that. -Nevertheless....</p> -<p class="pnext">The episode of Wilkins's was buried, but it was -imperfectly buried. The Five Towns definitely -knew that he had stayed at Wilklns's for a bet, and -that Brindley had discharged the bet. And rumours -of his valet, his electric brougham, his theatrical -supper-parties, had mysteriously hung in the streets -of the Five Towns like a strange vapour. Wisps of -the strange vapour had conceivably entered the -precincts of his home, but nobody ever referred to -them; nobody ever sniffed apprehensively, nor asked -anybody else whether there was not a smell of fire. -The discreetness of the silence was disconcerting. -Happily his relations with that angel, his wife, were -excellent. She had carried angelicism so far as not -to insist on the destruction of Carlo; and she had -actually applauded, while sticking to her white apron, -the sudden and startling extravagances of his toilette.</p> -<p class="pnext">On the whole, though little short of thirty-five -thousand pounds would ultimately be involved,--not -to speak of liability of nearly three thousand a -year for sixty-four years for ground-rent,--Edward -Henry was not entirely gloomy as to his prospects. -He was indubitably thinner in girth; novel problems -and anxieties, and the constant annoyance of being in -complete technical ignorance of his job, had removed -some flesh. (And not a bad thing either!) But, -on the other hand, his chin exhibited one proof that -life was worth living, and that he had discovered -new faith in life and a new conviction of youthfulness.</p> -<p class="pnext">He had shaved off his beard.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, sir!" a voice greeted him full of hope and -cheer, immediately his feet touched the platform.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was the voice of Mr. Marrier. Edward -Henry and Mr. Marrier were now in regular -relations. Before Edward Henry had paid his final -bill at Wilkins's and relinquished his valet and his -electric brougham, and disposed forever of his -mythical "man" on board the <em class="italics">Minnetonka</em>, and got -his original luggage away from the Hotel Majestic, -Mr. Marrier had visited him and made a certain -proposition. And such was the influence of -Mr. Marrier's incurable smile, and of his solid optimism, -and of his obvious talent for getting things done -on the spot (as witness the photography), that the -proposition had been accepted. Mr. Marrier was -now Edward Henry's "representative" in London. -At the Green Room Club Mr. Marrier informed -reliable cronies that he was Edward Henry's -"confidential adviser." At the Turk's Head, -Hanbridge, Edward Henry informed reliable cronies that -Mr. Marrier was a sort of clerk, factotum, or maid -of all work. A compromise between these two -very different conceptions of Mr. Marrier's position -had been arrived at in the word "representative." The -real truth was that Edward Henry employed -Mr. Marrier in order to listen to Mr. Marrier. -He turned to Mr. Marrier like a tap, and nourished -himself from a gushing stream of useful information -concerning the theatrical world. Mr. Marrier, -quite unconsciously, was bit by bit remedying -Edward Henry's acute ignorance.</p> -<p class="pnext">The question of wages had caused Edward -Henry some apprehension. He had learnt in a -couple of days that a hundred pounds a week was a -trifle on the stage. He had soon heard of -performers who worked for "nominal" salaries of -forty and fifty a week. For a manager twenty -pounds a week seemed to be a usual figure. But -in the Five Towns three pounds a week is regarded -as very goodish pay for any subordinate, and -Edward Henry could not rid himself all at once of -native standards. He had therefore, with -diffidence, offered three pounds a week to the -aristocratic Marrier. And Mr. Marrier had not refused -it, nor ceased to smile. On three pounds a week -he haunted the best restaurants, taxicabs, and other -resorts, and his garb seemed always to be smarter -than Edward Henry's, especially in such details as -waistcoat slips.</p> -<p class="pnext">Of course Mr. Marrier had a taxicab waiting -exactly opposite the coach from which Edward Henry -descended. It was just this kind of efficient -attention that was gradually endearing him to his -employer.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How goes it?" said Edward Henry curtly, as -they drove down to the Grand Babylon Hotel, now -Edward Henry's regular headquarters in London.</p> -<p class="pnext">Said Mr. Marrier:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I suppose you've seen another of 'em's got a -knighthood?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," said Edward Henry. "Who?" He -knew that by "'em" Mr. Marrier meant the great -race of actor-managers.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Gerald Pompey. Something to do with him -being a sheriff in the City, you know. I bet you what -you laike he went in for the Common Council simply -in order to get even with old Pilgrim. In fact, I -know he did. And now a foundation-stone-laying -has dan it!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"A foundation-stone-laying?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes. The new City Guild's building, you knaow. -Royalty--Temple Bar business--sheriffs--knighthood. -There you are!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" said Edward Henry. And then after a -pause added: "Pity <em class="italics">we</em> can't have a -foundation-stone-laying!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"By the way, old Pilgrim's in the deuce and all -of a haole, I heah. It's all over the Clubs." (In -speaking of the Clubs, Mr. Marrier always -pronounced them with a Capital letter.) "I told you -he was going to sail from Tilbury on his world-tour, -and have a grand embarking ceremony and seeing-off! -Just laike him! Greatest advertiser the world -ever saw! Well, since that P. and O. boat was lost -on the Goodwins, Cora Pryde has absolutely -declined to sail from Tilbury. Ab-so-lute-ly! Swears -she'll join the steamer at Marseilles. And Pilgrim -has got to go with her, too."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, even Pilgrim couldn't have a grand -embarking ceremony without his leading lady! He's -furious, I hear."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why shouldn't he go with her?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why not? Because he's formally announced -his grand embarking ceremony! Invitations are out. -Barge from London Bridge to Tilbury, and so on! -What he wants is a good excuse for giving it up. -He'd never be able to admit that he'd had to give -it up because Cora Pryde made him! He wants -to save his face."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry absently, "it's a -queer world. You've got me a room at the Grand Bab?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Rather!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then let's go and have a look at the Regent -first," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">No sooner had he expressed the wish than -Mr. Marrier's neck curved round through the window, -and with three words to the chauffeur he had -deflected the course of the taxi.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry had an almost boyish curiosity -about his edifice. He would go and give it a glance -at the oddest moments. And just now he had a -swift and violent desire to behold it. With all -speed the taxi shot down Shaftesbury Avenue and -swerved to the right....</p> -<p class="pnext">There it was! Yes, it really existed, the incredible -edifice of his caprice and of Mr. Alloyd's constructive -imagination! It had already reached a -height of fifteen feet; and, dozens of yards above -that, cranes dominated the sunlit air, swinging loads -of bricks in the azure; and scores of workmen -crawled about beneath these monsters. And he, -Edward Henry, by a single act of volition was the -author of it! He slipped from the taxi, penetrated -within the wall of hoardings, and gazed, just gazed! -A wondrous thing--human enterprise! And also -a terrifying thing! ... That building might be the -tomb of his reputation. On the other hand it -might be the seed of a new renown compared to -which the first would be as naught! He turned his -eyes away, in fear--yes, in fear!</p> -<p class="pnext">"I say," he said, "will Sir John Pilgrim be out -of bed yet, d'ye think?" He glanced at his watch. -The hour was about eleven.</p> -<p class="pnext">"He'll be at breakfast."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm going to see him, then. What's his address?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Twenty-five Queen Anne's Gate. But do you -knaow him? I do. Shall I cam with you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," said Edward Henry shortly. "You go -on with my bags to the Grand Bab, and get me -another taxi. I'll see you in my room at the hotel at -a quarter to one. Eh?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Rather!" agreed Mr. Marrier, submissive.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"Sole proprietor of the Regent Theatre."</p> -<p class="pnext">These were the words which Edward Henry -wrote on a visiting-card, and which procured him -immediate admittance to the unique spectacle--reputed -to be one of the most enthralling sights in -London--of Sir John Pilgrim at breakfast.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a very spacious front room of his flat (so -celebrated for its Gobelins tapestries and its truly -wonderful parquet flooring) sat Sir John Pilgrim at a -large hexagonal mahogany table. At one side of -the table a small square of white diaper was -arranged, and on this square were an apparatus for -boiling eggs, another for making toast, and a third -for making coffee. Sir John, with the assistance -of a young Chinaman and a fox-terrier who flitted -around him, was indeed eating and drinking. The -vast remainder of the table was gleamingly bare, -save for newspapers and letters, opened and -unopened, which Sir John tossed about. Opposite to -him sat a secretary whose fluffy hair, neat white -chemisette, and tender years gave her an appearance -of helpless fragility in front of the powerful and -ruthless celebrity. Sir John's crimson-socked left -foot stuck out from the table, emerging from the left -half of a lovely new pair of brown trousers, and -resting on a piece of white paper. Before this -white paper knelt a man in a frock-coat, who was -drawing an outline on the paper round Sir John's foot.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You <em class="italics">are</em> a bootmaker, aren't you?" Sir John -was saying airily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, Sir John."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Excuse me!" said Sir John. "I only wanted -to be sure. I fancied from the way you caressed -my corn with that pencil that you might be an artist -on one of the illustrated papers. My mistake!" He -was bending down. Then suddenly straightening -himself he called across the room: "I say, -Givington, did you notice my pose then--my -expression as I used the word 'caressed'? How -would that do?"</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry now observed in a corner of -the room a man standing in front of an easel and -sketching somewhat grossly thereon in charcoal. -This man said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"If you won't bother me, Sir John, I won't bother you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah! Givington! Ah! Givington!" murmured -Sir John still more airily--at breakfast he -was either airy or nothing. "You're getting on in -the world. You aren't merely an A.R.A.--you're -making money. A year ago you'd never have had -the courage to address me in that tone. Well, I -sincerely congratulate you.... Here, Snip, here's -my dentist's bill--worry it, worry it! Good dog! -Worry it!"</p> -<p class="pnext">(The dog growled now over a torn document -beneath the table.)</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss Taft, you might see that a <em class="italics">communiqué</em> -goes out to the effect that I gave my first sitting to -Mr. Saracen Givington, A.R.A., this morning. -The activities of Mr. Saracen Givington are of -interest to the world, and rightly so! You'd better -come round to the other side for the right foot, -Mr. Bootmaker. The journey is simply nothing."</p> -<p class="pnext">And then, and not till then, did Sir John Pilgrim -turn his large and handsome middle-aged blond face -in the direction of Alderman Edward Henry Machin.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Pardon my curiosity," said Sir John, "but who -are you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"My name is Machin--Alderman Machin," -said Edward Henry. "I sent up my card and you -asked me to come in."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ha!" Sir John exclaimed, seizing an egg. -"Will you crack an egg with me, Alderman? I -can crack an egg with anybody."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Thanks," said Edward Henry. "I'll be very -glad to." And he advanced towards the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sir John hesitated. The fact was that, though -he dissembled his dismay with marked histrionic -skill, he was unquestionably overwhelmed by -astonishment. In the course of years he had airily -invited hundreds of callers to crack an egg with -him,--the joke was one of his favourites,--but nobody -had ever ventured to accept the invitation.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Chung," he said weakly, "lay a cover for the -alderman."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry sat down quite close to Sir John. -He could discern all the details of Sir John's face -and costume. The tremendous celebrity was wearing -a lounge suit somewhat like his own, but instead -of the coat--he had a blue dressing-jacket with -crimson facings; the sleeves ended in rather long -wristbands, which were unfastened, the opal -cuff-links drooping each from a single hole. Perhaps -for the first time in his life Edward Henry intimately -understood what idiosyncratic elegance was. He -could almost feel the emanating personality of Sir -John Pilgrim, and he was intimidated by it; he was -intimidated by its hardness, its harshness, its terrific -egotism, its utterly brazen quality. Sir John's -glance was the most purely arrogant that Edward -Henry had ever encountered. It knew no reticence. -And Edward Henry thought: "When this chap -dies he'll want to die in public, with the reporters -round his bed and a private secretary taking down -messages."</p> -<p class="pnext">"This is rather a lark," said Sir John, recovering.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It is," said Edward Henry, who now felicitously -perceived that a lark it indeed was, and ought to be -treated as such. "It shall be a lark!" he said to -himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sir John dictated a letter to Miss Taft, and -before the letter was finished the grinning Chung had -laid a place for Edward Henry, and Snip had -inspected him and passed him for one of the right -sort.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Had I said that this is rather a lark?" Sir -John enquired, the letter accomplished.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I forget," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Because I don't like to say the same thing twice -over if I can help it. It is a lark though, isn't it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Undoubtedly," said Edward Henry, decapitating -an egg. "I only hope that I'm not interrupting you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not in the least," said Sir John. "Breakfast -is my sole free time. In another half-hour, I assure -you, I shall be attending to three or four things at -once." He leant over towards Edward Henry. -"But between you and me, Alderman, quite -privately, if it isn't a rude question, what did you come -for?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry, "as I wrote on my -card, I'm the sole proprietor of the Regent Theatre--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But there is no Regent Theatre," Sir John -interrupted him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No; not strictly. But there will be. It's in -course of construction. We're up to the first floor."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Dear me! A suburban theatre, no doubt?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you mean to say, Sir John," cried Edward -Henry, "that you haven't noticed it. It's within -a few yards of Piccadilly Circus."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Really!" said Sir John. "You see my theatre -is in Lower Regent Street, and I never go to -Piccadilly Circus. I make a point of not going to -Piccadilly Circus. Miss Taft, how long is it since -I went to Piccadilly Circus? Forgive me, young -woman, I was forgetting--you aren't old enough to -remember. Well, never mind details.... And -what is there remarkable about the Regent -Theatre, Alderman?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I intend it to be a theatre of the highest class, -Sir John," said Edward Henry. "Nothing but the -very best will be seen on its boards."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's not remarkable, Alderman. We're all -like that. Haven't you noticed it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then, secondly," said Edward Henry, "I am -the sole proprietor. I have no financial backers, -no mortgages, no partners. I have made no -contracts with anybody."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That," said Sir John, "is not unremarkable. -In fact, many persons who do not happen to possess -my own robust capacity for belief might not credit -your statement."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And thirdly," said Edward Henry, "every -member of the audience--even in the boxes, the -most expensive seats--will have a full view of the -whole of the stage--or, in the alternative, at -matinées, a full view of a lady's hat."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Alderman," said Sir John gravely, "before I -offer you another egg, let me warn you against -carrying remarkableness too far. You may be regarded -as eccentric if you go on like that. Some people, I -am told, don't want a view of the stage."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then they had better not come to my theatre," -said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"All which," commented Sir John, "gives me no -clue whatever to the reason why you are sitting here -by my side and calmly eating my eggs and toast and -drinking my coffee."</p> -<p class="pnext">Admittedly, Edward Henry was nervous. Admittedly, -he was a provincial in the presence of one -of the most illustrious personages of the empire. -Nevertheless he controlled his nervousness, and reflected:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nobody else from the Five Towns would or -could have done what I am doing. Moreover, this -chap is a mountebank. In the Five Towns they -would kowtow to him, but they would laugh at him. -They would mighty soon add <em class="italics">him</em> up. Why should -I be nervous? I'm as good as he is." He finished -with the thought which has inspired many a timid -man with new courage in a desperate crisis: "The -fellow can't eat me."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he said aloud:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I want to ask you a question, Sir John."</p> -<p class="pnext">"One?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"One. Are you the head of the theatrical -profession, or is Sir Gerald Pompey?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">Sir</em> Gerald Pompey?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">Sir</em> Gerald Pompey. Haven't you seen the -papers this morning?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sir John Pilgrim turned pale. Springing up, he -seized the topmost of an undisturbed pile of daily -papers and feverishly opened it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bah!" he muttered.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was continually thus imitating his own -behaviour on the stage. The origin of his renowned -breakfasts lay in the fact that he had once played -the part of a millionaire ambassador who juggled -at breakfast with his own affairs and the affairs of -the world. The stage breakfast of a millionaire -ambassador created by a playwright on the verge of -bankruptcy had appealed to his imagination and -influenced all the mornings of his life.</p> -<p class="pnext">"They've done it just to irritate me as I'm -starting off on my world's tour," he muttered, coursing -round the table. Then he stopped and gazed at -Edward Henry. "This is a political knighthood," -said he. "It has nothing to do with the stage. -It is not like my knighthood, is it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Certainly not," Edward Henry agreed. "But -you know how people will talk, Sir John. People -will be going about this very morning and saying -that Sir Gerald is at last the head of the theatrical -profession. I came here for your authoritative -opinion. I know you're unbiased."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sir John resumed his chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">"As for Pompey's qualifications as a head," he -murmured, "I know nothing of them. I fancy his -heart is excellent. I only saw him twice, once in -his own theatre, and once in Bond Street. I should -be inclined to say that on the stage he looks more -like a gentleman than any gentleman ought to look, -and that in the street he might be mistaken for an -actor.... How will that suit you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a clue," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Alderman," exclaimed Sir John, "I believe that -if I didn't keep a firm hand on myself I should soon -begin to like you! Have another cup of coffee. -Chung! ... Good-bye, Bootmaker, good-bye!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I only want to know for certain who is the -head," said Edward Henry, "because I mean to invite -the head of the theatrical profession to lay the -corner-stone of my new theatre."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"When do you start on your world's tour, Sir John?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I leave Tilbury with my entire company, scenery -and effects, on the morning of Tuesday week, by the -<em class="italics">Kandahar</em>. I shall play first in Cairo."</p> -<p class="pnext">"How awkward!" said Edward Henry. "I -meant to ask you to lay the stone on the very next -afternoon--Wednesday, that is!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Indeed!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, Sir John. The ceremony will be a very -original affair--very original!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"A foundation-stone-laying!" mused Sir John. -"But if you're already up to the first floor, how can -you be laying the foundation-stone on Wednesday -week?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I didn't say foundation-stone. I said corner-stone," -Edward Henry corrected him. "An entire -novelty! That's why we can't be ready before -Wednesday week."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And you want to advertise your house by -getting the head of the profession to assist?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"That is exactly my idea."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Sir John. "Whatever else you -may lack, Mr. Alderman, you are not lacking in -nerve, if you expect to succeed in <em class="italics">that</em>."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry smiled.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have already heard, in a round-about way," -he replied, "that Sir Gerald Pompey would not -be unwilling to officiate. My only difficulty is that -I'm a truthful man by nature. Whoever officiates, -I shall of course have to have him labelled, in -my own interests, as the head of the theatrical -profession, and I don't want to say anything that isn't -true."</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a pause.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, Sir John, couldn't you stay a day or two -longer in London and join the ship at Marseilles -instead of going on board at Tilbury?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But I have made all my arrangements. The -whole world knows that I am going on board at -Tilbury."</p> -<p class="pnext">Just then the door opened and a servant announced:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Carlo Trent."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sir John Pilgrim rushed like a locomotive to the -threshold and seized both Carlo Trent's hands with -such a violence of welcome that Carlo Trent's -eyeglass fell out of his eye and the purple ribbon -dangled to his waist.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come in, come in!" said Sir John. "And -begin to read at once. I've been looking out of the -window for you for the last quarter of an hour. -Alderman, this is Mr. Carlo Trent, the well-known -dramatic poet. Trent, this is one of the greatest -geniuses in London.... Ah! You know each -other? It's not surprising! No, don't stop to -shake hands. Sit down here, Trent. Sit down on -this chair.... Here, Snip, take his hat. Worry -it! Worry it! Now, Trent, don't read to <em class="italics">me</em>. It -might make you nervous and hurried. Read to -Miss Taft and Chung, and to Mr. Givington over -there. Imagine that they are the great and -enlightened public. You have imagination, haven't -you, being a poet?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Sir John had accomplished the change of mood -with the rapidity of a transformation-scene--in -which form of art, by the way, he was a great adept.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent, somewhat breathless, took a manuscript -from his pocket, opened it, and announced: -"The Orient Pearl."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" breathed Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">For some thirty minutes Edward Henry listened to -hexameters, the first he had ever heard. The effect -of them on his moral organism was worse even than -he had expected. He glanced about at the other -auditors. Givington had opened a box of tubes and -was spreading colours on his palette. The Chinaman's -eyes were closed while his face still grinned. -Snip was asleep on the parquet. Miss Taft bit the -end of a pencil with her agreeable teeth. Sir John -Pilgrim lay at full length on a sofa, occasionally -lifting his legs. Edward Henry despaired of help -in his great need. But just as his desperation was -becoming too acute to be borne, Carlo Trent -ejaculated the word "Curtain." It was the first word -that Edward Henry had clearly understood.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's the first act," said Carlo Trent, wiping -his face. Snip awakened.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry rose and, in the hush, tiptoed -round the sofa.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good-bye, Sir John," he whispered.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're not going?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am, Sir John."</p> -<p class="pnext">The head of his profession sat up. "How right -you are!" said he. "How right you are. Trent, -I knew from the first words it wouldn't do. It -lacks colour. I want something more crimson, more -like the brighter parts of this jacket, something--" He -waved hands in the air. "The alderman agrees -with me. He's going. Don't trouble to read any -more, Trent. But drop in any time--any time. -Chung, what o'clock is it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It is nearly noon," said Edward Henry in the -tone of an old friend. "Well, I'm sorry you can't -oblige me, Sir John. I'm off to see Sir Gerald -Pompey now."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But who says I can't oblige you?" protested -Sir John. "Who knows what sacrifices I would not -make in the highest interests of the profession? -Alderman, you jump to conclusions with the agility of -an acrobat, but they are false conclusions! Miss -Taft, the telephone! Chung, my coat! Good-bye, -Trent, good-bye!"</p> -<p class="pnext">An hour later Edward Henry met Mr. Marrier -at the Grand Babylon Hotel.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, sir," said Mr. Marrier, "you are the -greatest man that ever lived!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier showed him the stop-press news of -a penny evening paper, which read: "Sir John -Pilgrim has abandoned his ceremonious departure -from Tilbury in order to lay the corner-stone of the -new Regent Theatre on Wednesday week. He and -Miss Cora Pryde will join the <em class="italics">Kandahar</em> at Marseilles."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You needn't do any advertaysing," said Mr. Marrier. -"Pilgrim will do all the advertaysing for you."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">III.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Edward Henry and Mr. Marrier worked -together admirably that afternoon on the -arrangements for the corner-stone-laying. And--such -was the interaction of their separate enthusiasms--it -soon became apparent that all London (in -the only right sense of the word "all") must -and would be at the ceremony. Characteristically, -Mr. Marrier happened to have a list or catalogue -of all London in his pocket, and Edward Henry -appreciated him more than ever. But towards four -o'clock Mr. Marrier annoyed and even somewhat -alarmed Edward Henry by a mysterious change of -mien. His assured optimism slipped away from -him. He grew uneasy, darkly preoccupied, and -inefficient. At last when the clock in the room struck -four, and Edward Henry failed to hear it, Mr. Marrier said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm afraid I shall have to ask you to excuse me now."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I told you I had an appointment for tea at four."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Did you? What is it?" Edward Henry demanded -with an employer's instinctive assumption -that souls as well as brains can be bought for such -sums as three pounds a week.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have a lady coming to tea, here; that is, -downstairs."</p> -<p class="pnext">"In this hotel?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who is it?" Edward Henry pursued lightly, -for though he appreciated Mr. Marrier, he also -despised him. However, he found the grace to add: -"May one ask?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's Miss Elsie April."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you mean to say, Marrier," complained -Edward Henry, "that you've known Miss Elsie April -all these months and never told me? ... There -aren't two, I suppose? It's the cousin or something -of Rose Euclid?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier nodded. "The fact is," he said, -"she and I are joint honorary organising secretaries -for the annual conference of the Azure -Society. You know, it leads the New Thought -movement in England."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You never told me that either."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Didn't I, sir? I didn't think it would interest -you. Besides, both Miss April and I are comparatively -new members."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" said Edward Henry with all the canny -provincial's conviction of his own superior -shrewdness; and he repeated, so as to intensify this -conviction and impress it on others, "Oh!" In the -undergrowth of his mind was the thought: "How -dare this man, whose brains belong to me, be the -organising secretary of something that I don't know -anything about and don't want to know anything -about?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," said Mr. Marrier modestly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I say," Edward Henry enquired warmly, with -an impulsive gesture, "who is she?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who is she?" repeated Mr. Marrier blankly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes. What does she do?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Doesn't do anything," said Mr. Marrier. -"Very good amateur actress. Goes about a great -deal. Her mother was on the stage. Married a -wealthy wholesale corset-maker."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who did? Miss April?" Edward Henry had -a twinge.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No; her mother. Both parents are dead, and -Miss April has an income--a considerable income."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What do you call considerable?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Five or six thousand a year."</p> -<p class="pnext">"The deuce!" murmured Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"May have lost a bit of it, of course," -Mr. Marrier hedged. "But not much, not much!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry, smiling. "What -about <em class="italics">my</em> tea? Am I to have tea all by myself?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Will you come down and meet her?" Mr. Marrier's -expression approached the wistful.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry, "it's an idea, isn't -it? Why should I be the only person in London -who doesn't know Miss Elsie April?"</p> -<p class="pnext">It was ten minutes past four when they descended -into the electric publicity of the Grand Babylon. -Amid the music and the rattle of crockery and the -gliding waiters and the large nodding hats that -gathered more and more thickly round the tables, -there was no sign of Elsie April.</p> -<p class="pnext">"She may have been and gone away again," said -Edward Henry, apprehensive.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, no! She wouldn't go away." Mr. Marrier -was positive.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the tone of a man with an income of two -hundred pounds a week he ordered a table to be -prepared for three.</p> -<p class="pnext">At ten minutes to five he said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hope she <em class="italics">hasn't</em> been and gone away again!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry began to be gloomy and resentful. -The crowded and factitious gaiety of the place -actually annoyed him. If Elsie April had been and -gone away again, he objected to such silly feminine -conduct. If she was merely late, he equally objected -to such unconscionable inexactitude. He blamed -Mr. Marrier. He considered that he had the right -to blame Mr. Marrier because he paid him three -pounds a week. And he very badly wanted his tea.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then their four eyes, which for forty minutes -had scarcely left the entrance staircase, were -rewarded. She came in furs, gleaming white kid -gloves, gold chains, a gold bag, and a black velvet hat.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm not late, am I?" she said after the introduction.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," they both replied. And they both meant -it. For she was like fine weather. The forty -minutes of waiting were forgotten, expunged from the -records of time, just as the memory of a month of -rain is obliterated by one splendid sunny day.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">IV.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Edward Henry enjoyed the tea, which was bad, -to an extraordinary degree. He became uplifted -in the presence of Miss Elsie April; whereas -Mr. Marrier, strangely, drooped to still deeper depths -of unaccustomed inert melancholy. Edward Henry -decided that she was every bit as piquant, challenging, -and delectable as he had imagined her to be on -the day when he ate an artichoke at the next table -to hers at Wilkins's. She coincided exactly with -his remembrance of her, except that she was now -slightly more plump. Her contours were effulgent--there -was no other word. Beautiful she was not, -for she had a turned-up nose; but what charm she -radiated! Every movement and tone enchanted -Edward Henry. He was enchanted not at intervals, -by a chance gesture, but all the time--when she -was serious, when she smiled, when she fingered her -teacup, when she pushed her furs back over her -shoulders, when she spoke of the weather, when she -spoke of the social crisis, and when she made fun, -with a certain brief absence of restraint, rather in -her artichoke manner of making fun.</p> -<p class="pnext">He thought and believed:</p> -<p class="pnext">"This is the finest woman I ever saw!" He -clearly perceived the inferiority of other women, -whom nevertheless he admired and liked, such as the -Countess of Chell and Lady Woldo.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was not her brains, nor her beauty, nor her -stylishness that affected him. No! It was -something mysterious and dizzying that resided in every -particle of her individuality.</p> -<p class="pnext">He thought:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've often and often wanted to see her again. -And now I'm having tea with her!" And he was happy.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Have you got that list, Mr. Marrier?" she -asked in her low and thrilling voice. So saying, she -raised her eyebrows in expectation--a delicious -effect, especially behind her half-raised white veil.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier produced a document.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But that's <em class="italics">my</em> list!" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Your list?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'd better tell you." Mr. Marrier essayed a -rapid explanation. "Mr. Machin wanted a list -of the raight sort of people to ask to the -corner-stone-laying of his theatah. So I used this as a -basis."</p> -<p class="pnext">Elsie April smiled again. "Ve-ry good!" she -approved.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What is your list, Marrier?" asked Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was Elsie who replied:</p> -<p class="pnext">"People to be invited to the dramatic <em class="italics">soirée</em> of -the Azure Society. We give six a year. No title -is announced. Nobody except a committee of three -knows even the name of the author of the play -that is to be performed. Everything is kept -a secret. Even the author doesn't know that his -play has been chosen. Don't you think it's a -delightful idea? ... An offspring of the New Thought!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He agreed that it was a delightful idea.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Shall I be invited?" he asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">She answered gravely: "I don't know."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Are you going to play in it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She paused.... "Yes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then you must let me come. Talking of plays--"</p> -<p class="pnext">He stopped. He was on the edge of facetiously -relating the episode of "The Orient Pearl" at Sir -John Pilgrim's; but he withdrew in time. Suppose -that "The Orient Pearl" was the piece to be -performed by the Azure Society! It might well be. -It was (in his opinion) just the sort of play that -that sort of society would choose. Nevertheless he -was as anxious as ever to see Elsie April act. He -really thought that she could and would transfigure -any play. Even his profound scorn of New -Thought (a subject of which he was entirely -ignorant) began to be modified--and by nothing but -the enchantment of the tone in which Elsie April -murmured the words, "Azure Society!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"How soon is the performance?" he demanded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Wednesday week," said she.</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's the very day of my corner-stone-laying," -he said. "However, it doesn't matter. My little -affair will be in the afternoon."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But it can't be," said she solemnly. "It would -interfere with us, and we should interfere with it. -Our annual conference takes place in the afternoon. -All London will be there."</p> -<p class="pnext">Said Mr. Marrier rather shamefaced:</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's just it, Mr. Machin. It positively never -occurred to me that the Azure Conference is to be -on that very day. I never thought of it until nearly -four o'clock. And then I scarcely knew how to explain -it to you. I really don't know how it escaped me."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier's trouble was now out, and he had -declined in Edward Henry's esteem. Mr. Marrier -was afraid of him. Mr. Marrier's list of personages -was no longer a miracle of foresight; it was a mere -coincidence. He doubted if Mr. Marrier was -worth even his three pounds a week. Edward -Henry began to feel ruthless, Napoleonic. He was -capable of brushing away the whole Azure Society -and New Thought movement into limbo.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You must please alter your date," said Elsie -April. And she put her right elbow on the table -and leaned her chin on it, and thus somehow -established a domestic intimacy for the three amid all -the blare and notoriety of the vast tea-room.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, but I can't!" he said easily, familiarly. It -was her occasional "artichoke" manner that had -justified him in assuming this tone. "I can't!" he -repeated. "I've told Sir John I can't possibly be -ready any earlier, and on the day after he'll almost -certainly be on his way to Marseilles. Besides, I -don't <em class="italics">want</em> to alter my date. My date is in the -papers by this time."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've already done quite enough harm to the -movement as it is," said Elsie April stoutly but -ravishingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Me--harm to the movement?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Haven't you stopped the building of our church?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! So you know Mr. Wrissell?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Very well indeed."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Anybody else would have done the same in my -place," Edward Henry defended himself. "Your -cousin, Miss Euclid, would have done it, and -Marrier here was in the affair with her."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah!" exclaimed Elsie April. "But we didn't -belong to the movement then! We didn't know.... -Come now, Mr. Machin. Sir John Pilgrim -will of course be a great show. But even if you've -got him and manage to stick to him, we should beat -you. You'll never get the audience you want if you -don't change from Wednesday week. After all, the -number of people who count in London is very -small. And we've got nearly all of them. You've -no idea--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I won't change from Wednesday week," said -Edward Henry. This defiance of her put him into -an extremely agitated felicity.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, my dear Mr. Machin--"</p> -<p class="pnext">He was actually aware of the charm she was exerting, -and yet he discovered that he could easily -withstand it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, my dear Miss April, please don't try to -take advantage of your beauty!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She sat up. She was apparently measuring -herself and him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then you won't change the day, truly?" Her -urbanity was in no wise impaired.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I won't," he laughed lightly. "I dare say you -aren't used to people like me, Miss April."</p> -<p class="pnext">(She might get the better of Seven Sachs, but -not of him, Edward Henry Machin from the Five Towns!)</p> -<p class="pnext">"Marrier," said he suddenly, with a bluff -humorous downrightness, "you know you're in a very -awkward position here, and you know you've got -to see Alloyd for me before six o'clock. Be off -with you. I will be responsible for Miss April."</p> -<p class="pnext">("I'll show these Londoners!" he said to himself. -"It's simple enough when you once get into it.")</p> -<p class="pnext">And he did in fact succeed in dismissing Mr. Marrier, -after the latter had talked Azure business -with Miss April for a couple of minutes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I must go, too," said Elsie, imperturbable, impenetrable.</p> -<p class="pnext">"One moment," he entreated, and masterfully -signalled Marrier to depart. After all, he was -paying the fellow three pounds a week.</p> -<p class="pnext">She watched Marrier thread his way out. -Already she had put on her gloves.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I must go," she repeated, her rich red lips then -closed definitely.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Have you a motor here?" Edward Henry asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then, if I may, I'll see you home."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You may," she said, gazing full at him.</p> -<p class="pnext">Whereby he was somewhat startled and put out of -countenance.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">V.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"Are we friends?" he asked roguishly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hope so," she said, with no diminution of her -inscrutability.</p> -<p class="pnext">They were in a taxicab, rolling along the -Embankment towards the Buckingham Palace Hotel, -where she said she lived. He was happy. "Why -am I happy?" he thought. "What is there in her -that makes me happy?" He did not know. But -he knew that he had never been in a taxicab, or -anywhere else, with any woman half so elegant. Her -elegance flattered him enormously. Here he was, -a provincial man of business, ruffling it with the best -of them! ... And she was young in her worldly -maturity. Was she twenty-seven? She could not -be more. She looked straight in front of her, faintly -smiling.... Yes, he was fully aware that he was -a married man. He had a distinct vision of the -angelic Nellie, of the three children, and of his -mother. But it seemed to him that his own case -differed in some very subtle and yet effective -manner from the similar case of any other married man. -And he lived, unharassed by apprehensions, in the -lively joy of the moment.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But," she said, "I hope you won't come to see me act."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Because I should prefer you not to. You -would not be sympathetic to me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, yes, I should."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I shouldn't feel it so." And then with a swift -disarrangement of all the folds of her skirt she -turned and faced him. "Mr. Machin, do you -know why I've let you come with me?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Because you're a good-natured woman," he said.</p> -<p class="pnext">She grew even graver, shaking her head.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No! I simply wanted to tell you that you've -ruined Rose, my cousin."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss Euclid? Me ruined Miss Euclid?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes. You robbed her of her theatre--her one chance."</p> -<p class="pnext">He blushed. "Excuse me," he said, "I did no -such thing. I simply bought her option from her. -She was absolutely free to keep the option or let -it go."</p> -<p class="pnext">"The fact remains," said Elsie April, with humid -eyes, "the fact remains that she'd set her heart on -having that theatre, and you failed her at the last -instant. And she has nothing, and you've got the -theatre entirely in your own hands. I'm not so -silly as to suppose that you can't defend yourself -legally. But let me tell you that Rose went to the -United States heart-broken, and she's playing to -empty houses there--empty houses! Whereas -she might have been here in London, interested in -her theatre, and preparing for a successful season."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'd no idea of this," breathed Edward Henry. -He was dashed. "I'm awfully sorry!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, no doubt. But there it is!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Silence fell. He knew not what to say. He felt -himself in one way innocent, but he felt himself in -another way blackly guilty. His remorse for the -telephone-trick which he had practised on Rose -Euclid burst forth again after a long period of -quiescence simulating death, and actually troubled -him.... No, he was not guilty! He insisted in -his heart that he was not guilty! And yet--and yet--</p> -<p class="pnext">No taxicab ever travelled so quickly as that taxi-cab. -Before he could gather together his forces it -had arrived beneath the awning of the Buckingham -Palace Hotel.</p> -<p class="pnext">His last words to her were:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, I sha'nt change the day of my stone-laying. -But don't worry about your conference. -You know it'll be perfectly all right." He spoke -archly, with a brave attempt at cajolery; but in the -recesses of his soul he was not sure that she had not -defeated him in this their first encounter. However, -Seven Sachs might talk as he chose--she was not -such a persuasive creature as all that! She had -scarcely even tried to be persuasive.</p> -<p class="pnext">At about a quarter-past six, when he saw his -underling again, he said to Mr. Marrier:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Marrier, I've got a great idea. We'll have that -corner-stone-laying at night. After the theatres. -Say half-past eleven. Torchlight! Fireworks from -the cranes! It'll tickle old Pilgrim to death. I -shall have a marquee with match-boarding sides fixed -up inside, and heat it with a few of those smokeless -stoves. We can easily lay on electricity. It -will be absolutely the most sensational stone-laying -that ever was. It'll be in all the papers all over -the blessed world. Think of it! Torches! Fireworks -from the cranes! ... But I won't change -the day--neither for Miss April nor anybody else."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier dissolved in laudations.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," Edward Henry agreed with false diffidence, -"it'll knock spots off some of 'em in this town!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He felt that he had snatched victory out of -defeat. But the next moment he was capable of -feeling that Elsie April had defeated him even in his -victory. Anyhow, she was a most disconcerting and -fancy-monopolising creature.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was one source of unsullied gratification: -he had shaved off his beard.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VI.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"Come up here, Sir John," Edward Henry -called. "You'll see better, and you'll be out of the -crowd. And I'll show you something."</p> -<p class="pnext">He stood, in a fur coat, at the top of a short -flight of rough-surfaced steps between two -unplastered walls--a staircase which ultimately was -to form part of an emergency exit from the -dress-circle of the Regent Theatre. Sir John Pilgrim, -also in a fur coat, stood near the bottom of the -steps, with a glare of a Wells light full on him and -throwing his shadow almost up to Edward Henry's -feet. Around, Edward Henry could descry the vast -mysterious forms of the building's skeleton--black -in places, but in other places lit up by bright rays -from the gaiety below, and showing glimpses of -that gaiety in the occasional revelation of a woman's -cloak through slits in the construction. High -overhead, two gigantic cranes interlaced their arms; and -even higher than the cranes, shone the stars of the -clear spring night.</p> -<p class="pnext">The hour was nearly half-past twelve. The -ceremony was concluded--and successfully concluded. -All London had indeed been present. Half the -aristocracy of England, and far more than half the -aristocracy of the London stage! The entire -preciosity of the metropolis! Journalists with influence -enough to plunge the whole of Europe into war! -In one short hour Edward Henry's right hand -(peeping out from the superb fur coat which he -had had the wit to buy) had made the acquaintance -of scores upon scores of the most celebrated right -hands in Britain. He had the sensation that in -future, whenever he walked about the best streets of -the West End, he would be continually compelled -to stop and chat with august and renowned acquaintances, -and that he would always be taking off his -hat to fine ladies who flashed by nodding from -powerful motor-cars. Indeed, Edward Henry was -surprised at the number of famous people who -seemed to have nothing to do but attend advertising -rituals at midnight or thereabouts. Sir John -Pilgrim had, as Marrier predicted, attended to the -advertisements. But Edward Henry had helped. -And on the day itself the evening newspapers had -taken the bit between their teeth and run off with -the affair at a great pace. The affair was on all -the contents-bills hours before it actually happened. -Edward Henry had been interviewed several times, -and had rather enjoyed that. Gradually he had -perceived that his novel idea for a corner-stone-laying -had caught the facile imagination of the London -populace. For that night at least he was famous--as -famous as anybody!</p> -<p class="pnext">Sir John had made a wondrous picturesque figure -of himself as, in a raised corner of the crowded and -beflagged marquee, he had flourished a trowel and -talked about the great and enlightened public, and -about the highest function of the drama, and about -the duty of the artist to elevate, and about the -solemn responsibility of theatrical managers, and about -the absence of petty jealousies in the world of -the stage. Everybody had vociferously applauded, -while reporters turned rapidly the pages of their -note-books. "Ass!" Edward Henry had said to -himself with much force and sincerity,--meaning -Sir John,--but he too had vociferously applauded; -for he was from the Five Towns, and in the Five -Towns people are like that! Then Sir John had -declared the corner-stone well and truly laid (it was -on the corner which the electric sign of the future -was destined to occupy), and, after being thanked, -had wandered off shaking hands here and there -absently, to arrive at length in the office of the clerk -of the works, where Edward Henry had arranged -suitably to refresh the stone-layer and a few choice -friends of both sexes.</p> -<p class="pnext">He had hoped that Elsie April would somehow -reach that little office. But Elsie April was absent, -indisposed. Her absence made the one blemish on -the affair's perfection. Elsie April, it appeared, -had been struck down by a cold which had entirely -deprived her of her voice, so that the performance -of the Azure Society's Dramatic Club, so eagerly -anticipated by all London, had had to be postponed. -Edward Henry bore the misfortune of the Azure -Society with stoicism, but he had been extremely -disappointed by the invisibility of Elsie April at his -stone-laying. His eyes had wanted her.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sir John, awaking apparently out of a dream -when Edward Henry had summoned him twice, -climbed the uneven staircase and joined his host and -youngest rival on the insecure planks and gangways -that covered the first floor of the Regent Theatre.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come higher," said Edward Henry, mounting -upward to the beginnings of the second story, above -which hung suspended from the larger crane the -great cage that was employed to carry brick and -stone from the ground.</p> -<p class="pnext">The two fur coats almost mingled.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, young man," said Sir John Pilgrim, -"your troubles will soon be beginning."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now Edward Henry hated to be addressed as -"young man," especially in the patronising tone -which Sir John used. Moreover, he had a suspicion -that in Sir John's mind was the illusion that -Sir John alone was responsible for the creation of -the Regent Theatre--that without Sir John's aid -as a stone-layer it could never have existed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You mean my troubles as a manager?" said -Edward Henry grimly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"In twelve months from now, before I come -back from my world's tour, you'll be ready to get -rid of this thing on any terms. You will be wishing -that you had imitated my example and kept out of -Piccadilly Circus. Piccadilly Circus is sinister, my -Alderman--sinister."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come up into the cage, Sir John," said Edward -Henry. "You'll get a still better view. Rather -fine, isn't it, even from here?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He climbed up into the cage and helped Sir John -to climb.</p> -<p class="pnext">And, standing there in the immediate silence, Sir -John murmured with emotion:</p> -<p class="pnext">"We are alone with London!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry thought:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Cuckoo!"</p> -<p class="pnext">They heard footsteps resounding on loose planks -in a distant corner.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who's there?" Edward Henry called.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Only me!" replied a voice. "Nobody takes -any notice of me!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who is it?" muttered Sir John.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Alloyd, the architect," Edward Henry answered, -and then calling loud: "Come up here, Alloyd."</p> -<p class="pnext">The muffled and coated figure approached, hesitated, -and then joined the other two in the cage.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let me introduce Mr. Alloyd, the architect--Sir -John Pilgrim," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah!" said Sir John, bending towards Alloyd. -"Are you the genius who draws those amusing little -lines and scrawls on transparent paper, Mr. Alloyd? -Tell me, are they really necessary for a building, or -do you only do them for your own fun? Quite -between ourselves, you know! I've often wondered."</p> -<p class="pnext">Said Mr. Alloyd with a pale smile:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course everyone looks on the architect as a -joke!" The pause was somewhat difficult.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You promised us rockets, Mr. Machin," said -Sir John. "My mind yearns for rockets."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Right you are!" Edward Henry complied. -Close by, but somewhat above them, was the -crane-engine, manned by an engineer whom Edward Henry -was paying for overtime. A signal was given, and -the cage containing the proprietor and the architect -of the theatre and Sir John Pilgrim bounded most -startlingly up into the air. Simultaneously it began -to revolve rapidly on its cable, as such cages will, -whether filled with bricks or with celebrities.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" ejaculated Sir John, terror-struck, clinging -hard to the side of the cage.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" ejaculated Mr. Alloyd, also clinging hard.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I want you to see London," said Edward Henry, -who had been through the experience before.</p> -<p class="pnext">The wind blew cold above the chimneys.</p> -<p class="pnext">The cage came to a standstill exactly at the peak -of the other crane. London lay beneath the trio. -The curves of Regent Street and of Shaftesbury -Avenue, the right lines of Piccadilly, Lower Regent -Street, and Coventry Street, were displayed at their -feet as on an illuminated map, over which crawled -mannikins and toy autobuses. At their feet a long -procession of automobiles were sliding off, one after -another, with the guests of the evening. The -metropolis stretched away, lifting to the north, and -sinking to the south into jewelled river on whose -curved bank rose messages of light concerning -whisky, tea, and beer. The peaceful nocturnal roar -of the city, dwindling every moment now, reached -them like an emanation from another world.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You asked for a rocket, Sir John," said Edward -Henry. "You shall have it."</p> -<p class="pnext">He had taken a box of fuses from his pocket. -He struck one, and his companions in the swaying -cage now saw that a tremendous rocket was hung -to the peak of the other crane. He lighted the -fuse.... An instant of deathly suspense! ... And -then with a terrific and a shattering bang and -splutter the rocket shot towards the kingdom of -heaven, and there burst into a vast dome of red -blossoms which, irradiating a square mile of roofs, -descended slowly and softly on the West End like a -benediction.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You always want crimson, don't you, Sir -John?" said Edward Henry, and the easy cheeriness -of his voice gradually tranquillised the alarm -natural to two very earthly men who for the first -time found themselves suspended insecurely over a gulf.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have seen nothing so impressive since the -Russian ballet," murmured Mr. Alloyd, recovering.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You ought to go to Siberia, Alloyd," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sir John Pilgrim, pretending now to be extremely -brave, suddenly turned on Edward Henry and in a -convulsive grasp seized his hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"My friend," he said hoarsely, "a thought has -just occurred to me: you and I are the two most -remarkable men in London!" He glanced up as the -cage trembled. "How thin that steel rope seems!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The cage slowly descended, with many twists.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry said not a word. He was too -deeply moved by his own triumph to be able to -speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who else but me," he reflected, exultant, "could -have managed this affair as I've managed it? Did -anyone else ever take Sir John Pilgrim up into the -sky like a load of bricks, and frighten his life out -of him?"</p> -<p class="pnext">As the cage approached the platforms of the first -story he saw two people waiting there; one he -recognised as the faithful, harmless Marrier; the other -was a woman.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Someone here wants you urgently, Mr. Machin!" -cried Marrier.</p> -<p class="pnext">"By Jove," exclaimed Alloyd under his breath, -"what a beautiful figure! No girl as attractive as -that ever wanted <em class="italics">me</em> urgently! Some folks do have luck!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The woman had moved a little away when the -cage landed. Edward Henry followed her along -the planking.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was Elsie April.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I thought you were ill in bed," he breathed, -astounded.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her answering voice reached him, scarcely audible:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm only hoarse. My cousin Rose has arrived -to-night in secret at Tilbury by the <em class="italics">Minnetonka</em>."</p> -<p class="pnext">"The <em class="italics">Minnetonka</em>!" he muttered. Staggering -coincidence! Mystic heralding of misfortune!</p> -<p class="pnext">"I was sent for," the pale ghost of a delicate -voice continued. "She's broken, ruined; no -courage left. Awful fiasco in Chicago! She's hiding -now at a little hotel in Soho. She absolutely -declined to come to my hotel. I've done what I could -for the moment. As I was driving by here just now -I saw the rocket, and I thought of you. I thought -you ought to know it. I thought it was my duty to -tell you."</p> -<p class="pnext">She held her muff to her mouth. She seemed to -be trembling.</p> -<p class="pnext">A heavy hand was laid on his shoulder.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Excuse me, sir," said a strong, rough voice. -"Are you the gent that fired off the rocket? It's -against the law to do that kind o' thing here, and -you ought to know it. I shall have to trouble -you--"</p> -<p class="pnext">It was a policeman of the C division.</p> -<p class="pnext">Sir John was disappearing, with his stealthy and -conspiratorial air, down the staircase.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="dealing-with-elsie">CHAPTER VIII</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">DEALING WITH ELSIE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">I.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The headquarters of the Azure Society were -situate in Marloes Road, for no other -reason than that it happened so. Though -certain famous people inhabit Marloes Road, no -street could well be less fashionable than this -thoroughfare, which is very arid and very long, and a -very long way off the centre of the universe.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The Azure Society, you know!" Edward Henry -added when he had given the exact address to the -chauffeur of the taxi.</p> -<p class="pnext">The chauffeur, however, did not know, and did -not seem to be ashamed of his ignorance. His -attitude indicated that he despised Marloes Road, and -was not particularly anxious for his vehicle to be -seen therein, especially on a wet night, but that -nevertheless he would endeavour to reach it. When -he did reach it, and observed the large concourse -of shining automobiles that struggled together in -the rain in front of the illuminated number named -by Edward Henry, the chauffeur admitted to -himself that for once he had been mistaken, and his -manner of receiving money from Edward Henry was -generously respectful.</p> -<p class="pnext">Originally the headquarters of the Azure Society -had been a seminary and schoolmistress' house. -The thoroughness with which the buildings had been -transformed showed that money was not among the -things which the society had to search for. It had -rich resources, and it had also high social standing; -and the deferential commissionaires at the doors -and the fluffy-aproned, appealing girls who gave -away programmes in the foyer were a proof that -the society, while doubtless anxious about such -subjects as the persistence of individuality after death, -had no desire to reconstitute the community on a -democratic basis. It was above such transient trifles -of reform, and its high endeavours were confined to -questions of immortality, of the infinite, of sex, and -of art: which questions it discussed in fine raiment -and with all the punctilio of courtly politeness.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry was late, in common with some -two hundred other people of whom the majority -were elegant women wearing Paris or almost Paris -gowns with a difference. As on the current of the -variegated throng he drifted through corridors into -the bijou theatre of the society, he could not help -feeling proud of his own presence there; and yet at -the same time he was scorning, in his Five Towns -way, the preciosity and the simperings of these his -fellow creatures. Seated in the auditorium, at the -end of a row, he was aware of an even keener -satisfaction as people bowed and smiled at him; for -the theatre was so tiny and the reunion so choice that -it was obviously an honour and a distinction to have -been invited to such an exclusive affair. To the -evening first fixed for the dramatic <em class="italics">soirée</em> of the -Azure Society he had received no invitation. But -shortly after the postponement due to Elsie April's -indisposition an envelope addressed by Marrier -himself, and containing the sacred card, had arrived for -him in Bursley. His instinct had been to ignore it, -and for two days he had ignored it, and then he -noticed in one corner the initials "E.A." Strange -that it did not occur to him immediately that -E.A. stood, or might stand, for Elsie April!</p> -<p class="pnext">Reflection brings wisdom and knowledge. In the -end he was absolutely convinced that E.A. stood -for Elsie April; and at the last moment, deciding -that it would be the act of a fool and a coward to -decline what was practically a personal request from -a young and enchanting woman, he had come to -London--short of sleep, it is true, owing to local -convivialities, but he had come. And, curiously, he -had not communicated with Marrier. Marrier had -been extremely taken up with the dramatic <em class="italics">soirée</em> of -the Azure Society, which Edward Henry justifiably -but quite privately resented. Was he not paying -three pounds a week to Marrier?</p> -<p class="pnext">And now, there he sat, known, watched, a -notoriety, the card who had raised Pilgrim to the skies, -probably the only theatrical proprietor in the -crowded and silent audience; and he was expecting -anxiously to see Elsie April again--across the -footlights! He had not seen her since the night of the -stone-laying, over a week earlier. He had not -sought to see her. He had listened then to the -delicate tones of her weak, whispering, thrilling -voice, and had expressed regret for Rose Euclid's -plight. But he had done no more. What could he -have done? Clearly he could not have offered -money to relieve the plight of Rose Euclid, who -was the cousin of a girl as wealthy and as -sympathetic as Elsie April. To do so would have been to -insult Elsie. Yet he felt guilty none the less. An -odd situation! The delicate tones of Elsie's weak, -whispering, thrilling voice on the scaffolding haunted -his memory, and came back with strange clearness as -he sat waiting for the curtain to ascend.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was an outburst of sedate applause, and a -turning of heads to the right. Edward Henry -looked in that direction. Rose Euclid herself was -bowing from one of the two boxes on the first tier. -Instantly she had been recognised and acknowledged, -and the clapping had in nowise disturbed her. -Evidently she accepted it as a matter of course. How -famous, after all, she must be, if such an audience -would pay her such a meed! She was pale, and -dressed glitteringly in white. She seemed younger, -more graceful, much more handsome, more in -accordance with her renown. She was at home and -at ease up there in the brightness of publicity. The -imposing legend of her long career had survived the -eclipse in the United States. Who could have -guessed that some ten days before she had landed -heart-broken and ruined at Tilbury from the <em class="italics">Minnetonka</em>?</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry was impressed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"She's none so dusty!" he said to himself in the -incomprehensible slang of the Five Towns. The -phrase was a high compliment to Rose Euclid, aged -fifty and looking anything you like over thirty. It -measured the extent to which he was impressed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yes, he felt guilty. He had to drop his eyes, lest -hers should catch them. He examined guiltily the -programme, which announced "The New Don -Juan," a play "in three acts and in verse"--author -unnamed. The curtain went up.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">And with the rising of the curtain began Edward -Henry's torture and bewilderment. The scene -disclosed a cloth upon which was painted, to the right, -a vast writhing purple cuttlefish whose finer -tentacles were lost above the proscenium-arch, and to -the left an enormous crimson oblong patch with a -hole in it. He referred to the programme, which -said: "Act. I. A castle in the forest," and also -"Scenery and costumes designed by Saracen -Givington, A.R.A." The cuttlefish, then, was the -purple forest, or perhaps one tree in the forest, and the -oblong patch was the crimson castle. The stage -remained empty, and Edward Henry had time -to perceive that the footlights were unlit, and -that rays came only from the flies and from the wings.</p> -<p class="pnext">He glanced round. Nobody had blenched. -Quite confused, he referred again to the programme -and deciphered in the increasing gloom, "Lighting -by Cosmo Clark," in very large letters.</p> -<p class="pnext">Two yellow-clad figures of no particular sex glided -into view, and at the first words which they uttered -Edward Henry's heart seemed in apprehension to -cease to beat. A fear seized him. A few more -words, and the fear became a positive assurance and -realisation of evil. "The New Don Juan" was -simply a pseudonym for Carlo Trent's "Orient -Pearl"! ... He had always known that it would -be. Ever since deciding to accept the invitation he -had lived under just that menace. "The Orient -Pearl" seemed to be pursuing him like a sinister -destiny.</p> -<p class="pnext">Weakly he consulted yet again the programme. -Only one character bore a name familiar to the Don -Juan story; to wit, "Haidee"; and opposite that -name was the name of Elsie April. He waited for -her,--he had no other interest in the evening,--and -he waited in resignation. A young female -troubadour (styled in the programme "the messenger") -emerged from the unseen depths of the forest in the -wings and ejaculated to the hero and his friend: -"The woman appears." But it was not Elsie that -appeared. Six times that troubadour messenger -emerged and ejaculated, "The woman appears," -and each time Edward Henry was disappointed. -But at the seventh heralding--the heralding of the -seventh and highest heroine of this drama in -hexameters--Elsie did at length appear.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry became happy. He understood -little more of the play than at the historic -breakfast-party of Sir John Pilgrim; he was well -confirmed in his belief that the play was exactly as -preposterous as a play in verse must necessarily be; his -manly contempt for verse was more firmly established -than ever--but Elsie April made an exquisite -figure between the castle and the forest; her voice -did really set up physical vibrations in his spine. -He was deliciously convinced that if she remained -on the stage from everlasting to everlasting, just so -long could he gaze thereat without surfeit and -without other desire. The mischief was that she did not -remain on the stage. With despair he saw her -depart; and the close of the act was ashes in his -mouth.</p> -<p class="pnext">The applause was tremendous. It was not as -tremendous as that which had greeted the plate-smashing -comedy at the Hanbridge Empire, but it was -far more than sufficiently enthusiastic to startle and -shock Edward Henry. In fact, his cold indifference -was so conspicuous amid that fever, that in order -to save his face he had to clap and to smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">And the dreadful thought crossed his mind, traversing -it like the shudder of a distant earthquake -that presages complete destruction:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Are the ideas of the Five Towns all wrong? -Am I a provincial after all?"</p> -<p class="pnext">For hitherto, though he had often admitted to -himself that he was a provincial, he had never done -so with sincerity; but always in a manner of playful -and rather condescending badinage.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">III.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"Did you ever see such scenery and costumes?" -some one addressed him suddenly when the applause -had died down. It was Mr. Alloyd, who had -advanced up the aisle from the back row of the stalls.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I never did!" Edward Henry agreed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's wonderful how Givington has managed to -get away from the childish realism of the modern -theatre," said Mr. Alloyd, "without being ridiculous."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You think so!" said Edward Henry judicially. -"The question is, Has he?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you mean it's too realistic for you?" cried -Mr. Alloyd. "Well, you <em class="italics">are</em> advanced! I didn't -know you were as anti-representational as all that!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Neither did I!" said Edward Henry. "What -do you think of the play?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," answered Mr. Alloyd low and cautiously, -with a somewhat shamed grin, "between you -and me, I think the play's bosh."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come, come!" Edward Henry murmured as if -in protest.</p> -<p class="pnext">The word "bosh" was almost the first word of -the discussion which he had comprehended, and the -honest familiar sound of it did him good. -Nevertheless, keeping his presence of mind, he had -forborne to welcome it openly. He wondered what on -earth "anti-representational" could mean. Similar -conversations were proceeding around him, and each -could be very closely heard, for the reason that, the -audience being frankly intellectual and anxious to -exchange ideas, the management had wisely avoided -the expense and noise of an orchestra. The -entr'acte was like a <em class="italics">conversazione</em> of all the cultures.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I wish you'd give us some scenery and costumes -like this in <em class="italics">your</em> theatre," said Alloyd as he strolled -away.</p> -<p class="pnext">The remark stabbed him like a needle; the pain -was gone in an instant, but it left a vague fear -behind it, as of the menace of a mortal injury. It is -a fact that Edward Henry blushed and grew -gloomy, and he scarcely knew why. He looked -about him timidly, half defiantly. A magnificently -arrayed woman in the row in front, somewhat to -the right, leaned back and towards him, and behind -her fan said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're the only manager here, Mr. Machin! -How alive and alert you are!" Her voice seemed -to be charged with a hidden meaning.</p> -<p class="pnext">"D'you think so?" said Edward Henry. He -had no idea who she might be. He had probably -shaken hands with her at his stone-laying, but if so -he had forgotten her face. He was fast becoming -one of the oligarchical few who are recognised by -far more people than they recognise.</p> -<p class="pnext">"A beautiful play!" said the woman. "Not -merely poetic, but intellectual. And an -extraordinarily acute criticism of modern conditions!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He nodded. "What do you think of the -scenery?" he asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, of course candidly," said the woman, "I -think it's silly. I dare say I'm old-fashioned."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I dare say," murmured Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"They told me you were very ironic," said she, -flushing but meek.</p> -<p class="pnext">"They!" Who? Who in the world of London -had been labelling him as ironic? He was -rather proud.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hope if you <em class="italics">do</em> do this kind of play,--and -we're all looking to you, Mr. Machin," said the lady -making a new start,--"I hope you won't go in for -these costumes and scenery. That would never do!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Again the stab of the needle!</p> -<p class="pnext">"It wouldn't," he said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm delighted you think so," said she.</p> -<p class="pnext">An orange telegram came travelling from hand to -hand along that row of stalls, and ultimately, after -skipping a few persons, reached the magnificently -arrayed woman, who read it and then passed it to -Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Splendid!" she exclaimed. "Splendid!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry read: "Released. Isabel."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What does it mean?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's from Isabel Joy--at Marseilles."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Really!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry's ignorance of affairs round about -the centre of the universe was occasionally -distressing--to himself in particular. And just now he -gravely blamed Mr. Marrier, who had neglected to -post him about Isabel Joy. But how could -Marrier honestly earn his three pounds a week if he was -occupied night and day with the organising and -management of these precious dramatic <em class="italics">soirées</em>? -Edward Henry decided that he must give Mr. Marrier -a piece of his mind at the first opportunity.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Don't you know?" questioned the dame.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How should I?" he parried. "I'm only a -provincial."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But surely," pursued the dame, "you knew we'd -sent her round the world. She started on the -<em class="italics">Kandahar</em>, the ship that you stopped Sir John Pilgrim -from taking. She almost atoned for his absence at -Tilbury. Twenty-five reporters, anyway!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry sharply slapped his thigh, which -in the Five Towns signifies, "I shall forget my own -name next."</p> -<p class="pnext">Of course! Isabel Joy was the advertising -emissary of the Militant Suffragette Society, sent forth -to hold a public meeting and make a speech in the -principal ports of the world. She had guaranteed -to circuit the globe and to be back in London within -a hundred days, to speak in at least five languages, -and to get herself arrested at least three times en -route. Of course! Isabel Joy had possessed a -very fair share of the newspapers on the day before -the stone-laying, but Edward Henry had naturally -had too many preoccupations to follow her exploits. -After all, his momentary forgetfulness was rather -excusable.</p> -<p class="pnext">"She's made a superb beginning!" said the -resplendent dame, taking the telegram from Edward -Henry and inducting it into another row. "And -before three months are out she'll be the talk of the -entire earth. You'll see!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is everybody a suffragette here?" asked Edward -Henry simply, as his eyes witnessed the satisfaction -spread by the voyaging telegram.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Practically," said the dame. "These things -always go hand in hand," she added in a deep tone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What things?" the provincial demanded.</p> -<p class="pnext">But just then the curtain rose on the second act.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">IV.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"Won't you cam up to Miss April's dressing-room?" -said Mr. Marrier, who in the midst of the -fulminating applause after the second act seemed to -be inexplicably standing over him, having appeared -in an instant out of nowhere like a genie.</p> -<p class="pnext">The fact was that Edward Henry had been gently -and innocently dozing. It was in part the deep -obscurity of the auditorium, in part his own physical -fatigue, and in part the secret nature of poetry that -had been responsible for this restful slumber. He -had remained awake without difficulty during the -first portion of the act, in which Elsie April--the -orient pearl--had had a long scene of emotion and -tears, played, as Edward Henry thought, magnificently -in spite of its inherent ridiculousness; but later, -when gentle <em class="italics">Haidee</em> had vanished away and the -fateful troubadour messenger had begun to resume -her announcements of "The woman appears," -Edward Henry's soul had miserably yielded to his -body and to the temptation of darkness. The -upturned lights and the ringing hosannahs had roused -him to a full sense of sin, but he had not quite -recovered all his faculties when Marrier startled him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, yes! Of course! I was coming," he -answered a little petulantly. But no petulance could -impair the beaming optimism on Mr. Marrier's -features. To judge by those features, Mr. Marrier, -in addition to having organised and managed the -<em class="italics">soirée</em>, might also have written the piece and played -every part in it, and founded the Azure Society and -built its private theatre. The hour was Mr. Marrier's.</p> -<p class="pnext">Elsie April's dressing-room was small and very -thickly populated, and the threshold of it was -barred by eager persons who were half in and half -out of the room. Through these Mr. Marrier's -authority forced a way. The first man Edward -Henry recognised in the tumult of bodies was -Mr. Rollo Wrissell, whom he had not seen since their -meeting at Slosson's.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Wrissell," said the glowing Marrier, "let -me introduce Mr. Alderman Machin, of the Regent -Theatah."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Clumsy fool!" thought Edward Henry, and -stood as if entranced.</p> -<p class="pnext">But Mr. Wrissell held out a hand with the -perfection of urbane <em class="italics">insouciance</em>.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How d'you do, Mr. Machin?" said he. "I -hope you'll forgive me for not having followed your -advice."</p> -<p class="pnext">This was a lesson to Edward Henry. He learnt -that you should never show a wound, and if -possible never feel one. He admitted that in such -details of social conduct London might be in advance -of the Five Towns, despite the Five Towns' -admirable downrightness.</p> -<p class="pnext">Lady Woldo was also in the dressing-room, -glorious in black. Her beauty was positively -disconcerting, and the more so on this occasion as she was -bending over the faded Rose Euclid, who sat in a -corner surrounded by a court. This court, -comprising comparatively uncelebrated young women and -men, listened with respect to the conversation of -the peeress (who called Rose "my dear"), the -great star-actress, and the now somewhat notorious -Five Towns character, Edward Henry Machin.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss April is splendid, isn't she?" said Edward -Henry to Lady Woldo.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! My word, yes!" replied Lady Woldo -nicely, warmly, yet with a certain perfunctoriness. -Edward Henry was astonished that everybody was -not passionately enthusiastic about the charm of -Elsie's performance. Then Lady Woldo added: -"But what a part for Miss Euclid! What a part -for her!"</p> -<p class="pnext">And there were murmurs of approbation.</p> -<p class="pnext">Rose Euclid gazed at Edward Henry palely and -weakly. He considered her much less effective here -than in her box. But her febrile gaze was effective -enough to produce in him the needle-stab again, the -feeling of gloom, of pessimism, of being gradually -overtaken by an unseen and mysterious avenger.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, indeed!" said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">He thought to himself: "Now's the time for -me to behave like Edward Henry Machin, and teach -these people a thing or two!" But he could not.</p> -<p class="pnext">A pretty young girl summoned all her forces to -address the great proprietor of the Regent, to whom, -however, she had not been introduced, and with a -charming nervous earnest lisp said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"But don't you think it's a great play, Mr. Machin?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course!" he replied, inwardly employing the -most fearful and shocking anathemas.</p> -<p class="pnext">"We were sure <em class="italics">you</em> would!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The young people glanced at each other with the -satisfaction of proved prophets.</p> -<p class="pnext">"D'you know that not another manager has -taken the trouble to come here!" said a second -earnest young woman.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry's self-consciousness was now acute. -He would have paid a ransom to be alone on a -desert island in the Indian seas. He looked -downwards, and noticed that all these bright eager -persons, women and men, were wearing blue stockings -or socks.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss April is free now," said Marrier in his ear.</p> -<p class="pnext">The next instant he was talking alone to Elsie -in another corner, while the rest of the room -respectfully observed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"So you deigned to come!" said Elsie April. -"You did get my card!"</p> -<p class="pnext">A little paint did her no harm, and the accentuation -of her eyebrows and lips and the calculated -disorder of her hair were not more than her powerful -effulgent physique could stand. In a costume of -green and silver she was magnificent, overwhelmingly -magnificent.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her varying voice and her glance, at once sincere, -timid, and bold, produced the most singular sensations -behind Edward Henry's soft-frilled shirt-front. -And he thought that he had never been through any -experience so disturbing and so fine as just standing -in front of her.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I ought to be saying nice things to her," he -reflected; but, no doubt because he had been born in -the Five Towns, he could not formulate in his mind -a single nice thing.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, what do you think of it?" she asked, -looking full at him, and the glance too had a strange -significance. It was as if she had said: "Are you -a man, or aren't you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I think you're splendid," he exclaimed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now please!" she protested. "Don't begin -in that strain. I know I'm very good for an amateur--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But really! I'm not joking!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She shook her head.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What do you think of my part for Rose? -Wouldn't she be tremendous in it? Wouldn't she -be tremendous? What a chance!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He was acutely uncomfortable, but even his -discomfort was somehow a joy.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," he admitted. "Yes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! Here's Carlo Trent," said she.</p> -<p class="pnext">He heard Trent's triumphant voice carrying the -end of a conversation into the room: "If he hadn't -been going away," Carlo Trent was saying, "Pilgrim -would have taken it. Pilgrim--"</p> -<p class="pnext">The poet's eyes met Edward Henry's, and the -sentence was never finished.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How d'ye do, Machin?" murmured the poet.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then a bell began to ring and would not stop.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're staying for the reception afterwards?" -said Elsie April as the room emptied.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is there one?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course."</p> -<p class="pnext">It seemed to Edward Henry that they exchanged -silent messages.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">V.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Some time after the last hexameter had rolled -forth, and the curtain had finally fallen on the -immense and rapturous success of Carlo Trent's play -in three acts and in verse, Edward Henry, walking -about the crowded stage where the reception was -being held, encountered Elsie April, who was still in -her gorgeous dress of green and silver. She was -chatting with Marrier, who instantly left her, thus -displaying a discretion such as an employer would -naturally expect from a factotum to whom he was -paying three pounds a week.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry's heart began to beat in a manner -which troubled him and made him wonder what -could be happening at the back of the soft-frilled -shirt-front that he had obtained in imitation of -Mr. Seven Sachs.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not much elbow-room here!" he said lightly. -He was very anxious to be equal to the occasion.</p> -<p class="pnext">She gazed at him under her emphasized eyebrows. -He noticed that there were little touches of red on -her delightful nostrils.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," she answered with direct simplicity. -"Suppose we try somewhere else."</p> -<p class="pnext">She turned her back on all the amiable and -intellectual babble, descended three steps on the -prompt side, and opened a door. The swish of her -brocaded spreading skirt was loud and sensuous. He -followed her into an obscure chamber in which -several figures were moving to and fro and talking.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's this place?" he asked. Involuntarily -his voice was diminished to a whisper.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's one of the discussion-rooms," said she. "It -used to be a classroom, I expect, before the society -took the buildings over. You see the theatre was -the general schoolroom."</p> -<p class="pnext">They sat down inobtrusively in an embrasure. -None among the mysterious moving figures seemed -to remark them.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But why are they talking in the dark?" Edward -Henry asked behind his hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"To begin with, it isn't quite dark," she said. -"There's the light of the street-lamp through the -window. But it has been found that serious -discussions can be carried on much better without too -much light.... I'm not joking." (It was as if -in the gloom her ears had caught his faint sardonic -smile.)</p> -<p class="pnext">Said the voice of one of the figures:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Can you tell me what is the origin of the decay -of realism? Can you tell me that?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly, in the ensuing silence, there was a click -and a tiny electric lamp shot its beam. The hand -which held the lamp was the hand of Carlo Trent. -He raised it and flashed the trembling ray in the -inquirer's face. Edward Henry recalled Carlo's -objection to excessive electricity in the private -drawing-room at Wilkins's.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why do you ask such a question?" Carlo Trent -challenged the enquirer, brandishing the lamp. "I -ask you why do you ask it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The other also drew forth a lamp and, as it were, -cocked it and let it off at the features of Carlo -Trent. And thus the two stood, statuesque and -lit, surrounded by shadowy witnesses of the discussion.</p> -<p class="pnext">The door creaked and yet another figure, -silhouetted for an instant against the illumination of -the stage, descended into the discussion-chamber.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent tripped towards the newcomer, bent -with his lamp, lifted delicately the hem of the -newcomer's trousers, and gazed at the colour of his sock, -which was blue.</p> -<p class="pnext">"All right!" said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The champagne and sandwiches are served," said -the newcomer.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've not answered me, sir," Carlo Trent -faced once more his opponent in the discussion. -"You've not answered me."</p> -<p class="pnext">Whereupon, the lamps being extinguished, they all -filed forth, the door swung to of its own accord, -shutting out the sound of babble from the stage, -and Edward Henry and Elsie April were left silent -and solitary to the sole ray of the street-lamp.</p> -<p class="pnext">All the Five Towns shrewdness in Edward -Henry's character, all the husband in him, all the -father in him, all the son in him, leapt to his lips -and tried to say to Elsie, "Shall <em class="italics">we</em> go and inspect -the champagne and sandwiches too?" and failed to -say these incantatory words of salvation!</p> -<p class="pnext">And the romantic adventurous fool in him rejoiced -at their failure. For he was adventurously happy -in his propinquity to that simple and sincere creature. -He was so happy, and his heart was so active, that -he even made no caustic characteristic comment on -the singular behaviour of the beings who had just -abandoned them to their loneliness. He was also -proud because he was sitting alone nearly in the dark -with a piquant and wealthy, albeit amateur, actress -who had just participated in a triumph at which the -spiritual aristocracy of London had assisted.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VI.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Two thoughts ran through his head, shooting in -and out and to and fro among his complex sensations -of pleasure. The first was that he had never been -in such a fix before, despite his enterprising habits. -And the second was that neither Elsie April nor -anybody else connected with his affairs in London had -ever asked him whether he was married, nor assumed -by any detail of behaviour towards him that there -existed the possibility of his being married. Of -course he might, had he chosen, have informed a few -of them that a wife and children possessed him, but -then, really, would not that have been equivalent to -attaching a label to himself "Married"?--a -procedure which had to him the stamp of provinciality.</p> -<p class="pnext">Elsie April said nothing. And as she said nothing -he was obliged to say something, if only to prove -to both of them that he was not a mere tongue-tied -provincial. He said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"You know I feel awfully out of it here in this -society of yours!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Out of it?" she exclaimed, and her voice thrilled -as she resented his self-depreciation.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's over my head--right over it!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, Mr. Machin," she said, dropping somewhat -that rich, low voice, "I quite understand that -there are some things about the society you don't -like, trifles that you're inclined to laugh at. <em class="italics">I</em> -know that. Many of us know it. But it can't be -helped in an organisation like ours. It's even -essential. Don't be too hard on us. Don't be sarcastic."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But I'm not sarcastic!" he protested.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Honest?" She turned to him quickly. He -could descry her face in the gloom, and the forward -bend of her shoulders, and the backward sweep of -her arms resting on the seat, and the straight droop -of her Egyptian shawl from her inclined body.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Honest!" he solemnly insisted.</p> -<p class="pnext">The exchange of this single word was so intimate -that it shifted their conversation to a different -level--a level at which each seemed to be assuring the -other that intercourse between them could never be -aught but utterly sincere thenceforward, and that -indeed in future they would constitute a little society -of their own, ideal in its organisation.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then you're too modest," she said decidedly. -"There was no one here to-night who's more -respected than you are. No one! Immediately I -first spoke to you--I daresay you don't remember -that afternoon at the Grand Babylon Hotel--I -knew you weren't like the rest. And don't I know -them? Don't I know them?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But how did you know I'm not like the rest?" -asked Edward Henry. The line which she was -taking had very much surprised him, and charmed -him. The compliment, so serious and urgent in -tone, was intensely agreeable, and it made an entirely -new experience in his career. He thought: "Oh! -There's no mistake about it. These London women -are marvellous! They're just as straight and in -earnest as the best of our little lot down there. But -they've got something else. There's no -comparison!" The unique word to describe the -indescribable floated into his head: "Scrumptuous!" What -could not life be with such semi-divine creatures? -He dreamt of art drawing-rooms softly shaded at -midnight. And his attitude towards even poetry -was modified.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I knew you weren't like the rest," said she, "by -your look; by the way you say everything you <em class="italics">do</em> say. -We all know it. And I'm sure you're far more -than clever enough to be perfectly aware that we all -know it. Just see how everyone looked at you to-night!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Yes, he had in fact been aware of the glances.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I think I ought to tell you," she went on, "that -I was rather unfair to you that day in talking about -my cousin--in the taxi. You were quite right to -refuse to go into partnership with her. She thinks -so too. We've talked it over, and we're quite -agreed. Of course it did seem hard--at the time, -and her bad luck in America seemed to make it worse. -But you were quite right. You can work much -better alone. You must have felt that -instinctively--far quicker than we felt it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," he murmured, confused, "I don't know--"</p> -<p class="pnext">Could this be she who had too openly smiled at -his skirmish with an artichoke?</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, Mr. Machin," she burst out, "you've got -an unprecedented opportunity, and, thank Heaven, -you're the man to use it! We're all expecting so -much from you, and we know we sha'n't be disappointed."</p> -<p class="pnext">"D'ye mean the theatre?" he asked, alarmed as -it were amid rising waters.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The theatre," said she gravely. "You're the -one man that can save London. No one <em class="italics">in</em> London -can do it! ... <em class="italics">You</em> have the happiness of knowing -what your mission is, and of knowing too that you -are equal to it. What good fortune! I wish I -could say as much for myself. I want to do -something! I try! But what can I do? Nothing--really! -You've no idea of the awful loneliness that -comes from a feeling of inability."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Loneliness!" he repeated. "But surely--" He stopped.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Loneliness," she insisted. Her little chin was -now in her little hand, and her dim face upturned.</p> -<p class="pnext">And suddenly a sensation of absolute and marvellous -terror seized Edward Henry. He was more -afraid than he had ever been--and yet once or twice -in his life he had felt fear. His sense of true -perspective--one of his most precious -qualities--returned. He thought: "I've got to get out of -this." Well, the door was not locked. It was only -necessary to turn the handle, and security lay on the -other side of the door! He had but to rise and -walk. And he could not. He might just as well -have been manacled in a prison-cell. He was under -an enchantment.</p> -<p class="pnext">"A man," murmured Elsie, "a man can never -realise the loneliness--" She ceased.</p> -<p class="pnext">He stirred uneasily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"About this play," he found himself saying.</p> -<p class="pnext">And yet why should he mention the play in his fright? -He pretended to himself not to know why. But he -knew why. His instinct had seen in the topic of the -play the sole avenue of salvation.</p> -<p class="pnext">"A wonderful thing, isn't it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, yes," he said; and then, most astonishingly -to himself, added: "I've decided to do it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"We knew you would," she said calmly. "At -any rate I did.... You'll open with it of course."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," he answered desperately, and proceeded, -with the most extraordinary bravery: "If you'll -act in it."</p> -<p class="pnext">Immediately on hearing these last words issue -from his mouth he knew that a fool had uttered -them, and that the bravery was mere rashness; for -Elsie's responding gesture reinspired him afresh with -the exquisite terror which he had already begun to -conjure away.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You think Miss Euclid ought to have the part," -he added quickly, before she could speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, I do!" cried Elsie positively and eagerly. -"Rose will do simply wonders with that part. You -see she can speak verse. I can't. I'm nobody. I -only took it because--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Aren't you anybody?" he contradicted. -"Aren't you anybody? I can just tell you--"</p> -<p class="pnext">There he was again, bringing back the delicious -terror! An astounding situation!</p> -<p class="pnext">But the door creaked. The babble from the stage -invaded the room. And in a second the enchantment -was lifted from him. Several people -entered. He sighed, saying within himself to the disturbers:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'd have given you a hundred-pound piece if -you'd been five minutes sooner."</p> -<p class="pnext">And yet simultaneously he regretted their arrival. -And, more curious still, though he well remembered -the warning words of Mr. Seven Sachs concerning -Elsie April, he did not consider that they were -justified. She had not been a bit persuasive ... only...</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VII.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">He sat down to the pianisto with a strange and -agreeable sense of security. It is true that, owing to -the time of year, the drawing-room had been, in the -figurative phrase, turned upside down by the process -of spring-cleaning, which his unexpected arrival had -surprised in fullest activity. But he did not mind -that. He abode content among rolled carpets, a -swathed chandelier, piled chairs, and walls full of -pale rectangular spaces where pictures had been. -Early that morning, after a brief night spent partly -in bed and partly in erect contemplation of his -immediate past and his immediate future, he had -hurried back to his pianisto and his home--to the -beings and things that he knew and that knew him.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the train he had had the pleasure of reading in -sundry newspapers that "The Orient Pearl," by -Carlo Trent (who was mentioned in terms of startling -respect and admiration), had been performed on -the previous evening at the dramatic <em class="italics">soirée</em> of the -Azure Society, with all the usual accompaniments of -secrecy and exclusiveness, in its private theatre in -Kensington, and had been accepted on the spot by -Mr. E. H. Machin ("that most enterprising and -enlightened recruit to the ranks of theatrical -managers ") for production at the new Regent Theatre. -And further, that Mr. Machin intended to open with -it. And still further, that his selection of such a -play, which combined in the highest degree the -poetry of Mr. W. B. Yeats with the critical intellectuality -of Mr. Bernard Shaw, was of excellent augury -for London's dramatic future, and that the "upward -movement" must on no account be thought to have -failed because of the failure of certain recent -ill-judged attempts, by persons who did not understand -their business, to force it in particular directions. -And still further, that he, Edward Henry, had -engaged for the principal part Miss Rose Euclid, -perhaps the greatest emotional actress the English-speaking -peoples had ever had, but who unfortunately -had not been sufficiently seen of late on the London -stage, and that this would be her first appearance -after her recent artistic successes in the United -States. And lastly, that Mr. Marrier (whose name -would be remembered in connection with ... etc., -etc.) was Mr. E. H. Machin's acting manager and -technical adviser. Edward Henry could trace the -hand of Marrier in all the paragraphs. Marrier -had lost no time.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Machin, senior, came into the drawing-room -just as he was adjusting the "Tannhäuser" overture -to the mechanician. The piece was one of his major -favourites.</p> -<p class="pnext">"This is no place for you, my lad," said Mrs. Machin -grimly, glancing round the room. "But I -came to tell ye as th' mutton's been cooling at least -five minutes. You gave out as you were hungry."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Keep your hair on, Mother," said he, springing up.</p> -<p class="pnext">Barely twelve hours earlier he had been mincing -among the elect and the select and the intellectual -and the poetic and the aristocratic; among the -lah-di-dah and Kensingtonian accents; among rouged lips -and blue hose and fixed simperings; in the centre of -the universe. And he had conducted himself with -considerable skill accordingly. Nobody, on the -previous night, could have guessed from the cut of his -fancy waistcoat, or the judiciousness of his responses -to remarks about verse, that his wife often wore a -white apron, or that his mother was--the woman -she was! He had not unskillfully caught many of -the tricks of that metropolitan environment. But -now they all fell away from him, and he was just -Edward Henry--nay, he was almost the old Denry again.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who chose this mutton?" he asked as he bent -over the juicy and rich joint and cut therefrom -exquisite thick slices with a carving-knife like a razor.</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">I</em> did, if ye want to know," said his mother. -"Anything amiss with it?" she challenged.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No. It's fine."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," said she, "I'm wondering whether you get -aught as good as that in these grand hotels, as you -call 'em."</p> -<p class="pnext">"We don't," said Edward Henry. First, it was -true, and secondly he was anxious to be propitiatory, -for he had a plan to further.</p> -<p class="pnext">He looked at his wife. She was not talkative, but -she had received him in the hall with every detail of -affection, if a little absent-mindedly, owing to the -state of the house. She had not been caustic, like -his mother, about this male incursion into -spring-cleaning. She had not informed the surrounding -air that she failed to understand why them as were -in London couldn't stop in London for a bit, as his -mother had. Moreover, though the spring-cleaning -fully entitled her to wear a white apron at meals, she -was not wearing a white apron, which was a sign to -him that she still loved him enough to want to please -him. On the whole, he was fairly optimistic about -his plan of salvation. Nevertheless, it was not until -nearly the end of the meal, when one of his mother's -ample pies was being consumed, that he began to try -to broach it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nell," he said, "I suppose you wouldn't care to -come to London with me?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" she answered smiling, a smile of a peculiar -quality. It was astonishing how that simple woman -could put just one-tenth of one per cent. of irony into -a good-natured smile. "What's the meaning of -this?" Then she flushed. The flush touched -Edward Henry in an extraordinary manner.</p> -<p class="pnext">("To think," he reflected, incredulously, "that -only last night I was talking in the dark to Elsie -April--and here I am now!" And he remembered -the glory of Elsie's frock, and her thrilling voice in -the gloom, and that pose of hers as she leaned dimly -forward.)</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," he said aloud, as naturally as he could. -"That theatre's beginning to get up on its hind legs -now, and I should like you to see it."</p> -<p class="pnext">A difficult pass for him, as regards his mother! -This was the first time he had ever overtly spoken of -the theatre in his mother's presence. In the best -bedroom he had talked of it, but even there with a -certain self-consciousness and false casualness. -Now his mother stared straight in front of her with -an expression of which she alone among human -beings had the monopoly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I should like to," said Nellie generously.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said he, "I've got to go back to town -to-morrow. Wilt come with me, lass?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Don't be silly, Edward Henry," said she. -"How can I leave Mother in the middle of all this -spring-cleaning?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You needn't leave Mother. We'll take her -too," said Edward Henry lightly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You won't!" observed Mrs. Machin.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I <em class="italics">have</em> to go to-morrow, Nell," said Edward -Henry. "And I was thinking you might as well -come with me. It will be a change for you."</p> -<p class="pnext">(He said to himself: "And not only have I to -go to-morrow, but you absolutely must come with -me, my girl. That's the one thing to do.")</p> -<p class="pnext">"It would be a change for me," Nellie agreed. -She was beyond doubt flattered and calmly pleased. -"But I can't possibly come to-morrow. You can -see that for yourself, dear."</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I can't!" he cried impatiently. "What -does it matter? Mother'll be here. The kids'll be -all right. After all, spring cleaning isn't the day of -judgment."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Edward Henry," said his mother, cutting in between -them like a thin blade, "I wish you wouldn't -be blasphemous. London's London, and Bursley's -Bursley." She had finished.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's quite out of the question for me to come -to-morrow, dear. I must have notice. I really must."</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry saw with alarm that Nellie -had made up her mind, and that the flattered calm -pleasure in his suggestion had faded from her face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, dash these domesticated women!" he -thought, and shortly afterwards departed, brooding, -to the offices of the Thrift Club.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VIII.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">He timed his return with exactitude, and, going -straight up-stairs to the chamber known indifferently -as "Maisie's room" or "nurse's room," sure enough -he found the three children there alone! They were -fed, washed, night-gowned, and even dressing-gowned; -and this was the hour when, while Nurse -repaired the consequences of their revolutionary -conduct in the bathroom and other places, they were left -to themselves. Robert lay on the hearth-rug, the -insteps of his soft, pink feet rubbing idly against the -pile of the rug, his elbows digging into the pile, his -chin on his fists, and a book perpendicularly beneath -his eyes. Ralph, careless adventurer rather than -student, had climbed to the glittering brass rail of -Maisie's new bedstead, and was thereon imitating a -recently seen circus performance. Maisie, in the -bed according to regulation, and lying on the flat of -her back, was singing nonchalantly to the ceiling. -Carlo, unaware that at that moment he might have -been a buried corpse but for the benignancy of -Providence in his behalf, was feeling sympathetic towards -himself because he was slightly bored.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Hello, kids!" Edward Henry greeted them. -As he had seen them before midday dinner, the more -formal ceremonies of salutation after absence, so -hateful to the Five Towns temperament, were -happily over and done with.</p> -<p class="pnext">Robert turned his head slightly, inspected his -father with a judicial detachment that hardly -escaped the inimical, and then resumed his book.</p> -<p class="pnext">("No one would think," said Edward Henry to -himself, "that the person who has just entered this -room is the most enterprising and enlightened of -West End theatrical managers.")</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Ello, Father!" shrilled Ralph. "Come and -help me to stand on this wire rope."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It isn't a wire rope," said Robert from the -hearth-rug, without stirring. "It's a brass rail."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, it is a wire rope, because I can make it -bend," Ralph retorted, bumping down on the thing. -"Anyhow, it's going to be a wire rope."</p> -<p class="pnext">Maisie simply stuck several fingers into her mouth, -shifted to one side, and smiled at her father in a -style of heavenly and mischievous flirtatiousness.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, Robert, what are you reading?" Edward -Henry inquired in his best fatherly manner, half -authoritative and half humorous, while he formed -part of the staff of Ralph's circus.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm not reading, I'm learning my spellings," -replied Robert.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry, knowing that the discipline of -filial politeness must be maintained, said: -"'Learning my spellings'--what?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Learning my spellings, Father," Robert consented -to say, but with a savage air of giving way to -the unreasonable demands of affected fools. Why -indeed should it be necessary in conversation always -to end one's sentence with the name or title of the -person addressed?</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, would you like to go to London with me?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"When?" the boy demanded cautiously. He -still did not move, but his ears seemed to prick up.</p> -<p class="pnext">"To-morrow?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No thanks ... Father." His ears ceased -their activity.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No? Why not?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Because there's a spellings examination on -Friday, and I'm going to be top boy."</p> -<p class="pnext">It was a fact that the infant (whose programmes -were always somehow arranged in advance, and were -in his mind absolutely unalterable) could spell the -most obstreperous words. Quite conceivably he -could spell better than his father, who still showed -an occasional tendency to write "separate" with -three e's and only one a.</p> -<p class="pnext">"London's a fine place," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I know," said Robert negligently.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's the population of London?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't know," said Robert with curtness, though -he added after a pause: "But I can spell -population--p-o-p-u-l-a-t-i-o-n."</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">I'll</em> come to London, Father, if you'll have me," -said Ralph, grinning good-naturedly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Will you!" said his father.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Fahver," asked Maisie, wriggling, "have you -brought me a doll?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm afraid I haven't."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mother said p'r'aps you would."</p> -<p class="pnext">It was true, there had been talk of a doll; he had -forgotten it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I tell you what I'll do," said Edward Henry, -"I'll take you to London, and you can choose a doll -in London. You never saw such dolls as there are in -London--talking dolls that shut and open their -eyes and say Papa and Mamma, and all their clothes -take off and on."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do they say 'Father?'" growled Robert.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, they don't," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why don't they?" growled Robert.</p> -<p class="pnext">"When will you take me?" Maisie almost squealed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"To-morrow."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Certain sure, Father?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You promise, Father?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course I promise."</p> -<p class="pnext">Robert at length stood up to judge for himself -this strange and agitating caprice of his father's for -taking Maisie to London. He saw that, despite -spellings, it would never do to let Maisie alone go. -He was about to put his father through a -cross-examination, but Edward Henry dropped Ralph, who -had been climbing up him as up a telegraph-pole, on -to the bed and went over to the window, nervously, -and tapped thereon.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo followed him, wagging an untidy tail.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Hello, Trent!" murmured Edward Henry, -stooping and patting the dog.</p> -<p class="pnext">Ralph exploded into loud laughter.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Father's called Carlo 'Trent,'" he roared. -"Father, have you forgotten his name's Carlo?" It -was one of the greatest jokes that Ralph had -heard for a long time.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then Nellie hurried into the room, and Edward -Henry, with a "Mustn't be late for tea," as -hurriedly left it.</p> -<p class="pnext">Three minutes later, while he was bent over the -lavatory basin, someone burst into the bathroom. -He lifted a soapy face.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was Nellie, with disturbed features.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's this about your positively promising to -take Maisie to London to-morrow to choose a doll?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll take 'em all," he replied with absurd levity. -"And you too!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But really--" she pouted, indicating that he -must not carry the ridiculous too far.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Look here, d--n it," he said impulsively, "I -<em class="italics">want</em> you to come. And I want you to come to-morrow. -I knew it was the confounded infants you -wouldn't leave. You don't mean to tell me you can't -arrange it--a woman like you!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She hesitated.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what am I to do with three children in a -London hotel?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Take Nurse, naturally."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Take Nurse?" she cried.</p> -<p class="pnext">He imitated her with a grotesque exaggeration, -yelling loudly, "Take Nurse?" Then he planted -a soap-sud on her fresh cheek.</p> -<p class="pnext">She wiped it off carefully and smacked his arm. -The next moment she was gone, having left the door -open.</p> -<p class="pnext">"He <em class="italics">wants</em> me to go to London to-morrow," he -could hear her saying to his mother on the landing.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Confound it!" he thought. "Didn't she know -that at dinner-time?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bless us!" His mother's voice.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And take the children--and Nurse!" his wife -continued in a tone to convey the fact that she was -just as much disturbed as her mother-in-law could -possibly be by the eccentricities of the male.</p> -<p class="pnext">"He's his father all over, that lad is!" said his -mother strangely.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry was impressed by these -words, for not once in seven years did his mother -mention his father.</p> -<p class="pnext">Tea was an exciting meal.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd better come too, Mother," said Edward -Henry audaciously. "We'll shut the house up."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I come to no London," said she.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, then, you can use the motor as much as -you like while we're away."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I go about gallivanting in no motor," said his -mother. "It'll take me all my time to get this -house straight against you come back."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I haven't a <em class="italics">thing</em> to go in!" said Nellie with a -martyr's sigh.</p> -<p class="pnext">After all (he reflected), though domesticated, she -was a woman.</p> -<p class="pnext">He went to bed early. It seemed to him that his -wife, his mother, and the nurse were active and -whispering up and down the house till the very -middle of the night. He arose not late, but they were -all three afoot before him, active and whispering.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">IX.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">He found out on the morning after the highly -complex transaction of getting his family from -Bursley to London that London held more problems for -him than ever. He was now not merely the -proprietor of a theatre approaching completion, but -really a theatrical manager with a play to produce, -artistes to engage, and the public to attract. He had -made two appointments for that morning at the -Majestic (he was not at the Grand Babylon, because -his wife had once stayed with him at the Majestic, -and he did not want to add to his anxieties the -business of accustoming her to a new and costlier -luxury): one appointment at nine with Marrier, and the -other at ten with Nellie, family, and Nurse. He had -expected to get rid of Marrier before ten.</p> -<p class="pnext">Among the exciting mail which Marrier had -collected for him from the Grand Babylon and -elsewhere was the following letter:</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst small"><em class="italics">Buckingham Palace Hotel.</em></p> -<p class="pnext small">DEAR FRIEND: We are all so proud of you. I should like some -time to finish our interrupted conversation. Will you come and -have lunch with me one day here at 1.30? You needn't write. I -know how busy you are. Just telephone you are coming. But -don't telephone between 12 and 1, because at that time I <em class="italics">always</em> -take my constitutional in St. James's Park.</p> -<dl class="docutils small white-space-pre-line"> -<dt class="white-space-pre-line">Yours sincerely,</dt> -<dd class="white-space-pre-line"><ol class="first last upperalpha simple white-space-pre-line" start="5"> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"><ol class="first upperalpha white-space-pre-line"> -<li class="white-space-pre-line"></li> -</ol> -</li> -</ol> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"Well," he thought. "That's a bit thick, that -is! She's stuck me up with a dramatist I don't -believe in, and a play I don't believe in, and an actress -I don't believe in, and now she--"</p> -<p class="pnext">Nevertheless, to a certain extent he was bluffing -himself; for, as he pretended to put Elsie April -back into her place, he had disturbing and delightful -visions of her. A clever creature! Uncannily -clever! Wealthy! Under thirty! Broad-minded! -No provincial prejudices! ... Her voice, that -always affected his spine! Her delicious flattery! ... She -was no mean actress either! And the multifariousness -of her seductive charm! In fact, she was a -regular woman of the world, such as you would read -about--if you did read! ... He was sitting with -her again in the obscurity of the discussion-room at -the Azure Society's establishment. His heart was -beating again.</p> -<p class="pnext">Pooh! ...</p> -<p class="pnext">A single wrench, and he ripped up the letter and -cast it into one of the red-lined waste-paper baskets -with which the immense and rather shabby writing-room -of the Majestic was dotted.</p> -<p class="pnext">Before he had finished dealing with Mr. Marrier's -queries and suggestions--some ten thousand -in all--the clock struck, and Nellie tripped into the -room. She was in black silk, with hints here and -there of gold chains. As she had explained, she had -nothing to wear, and was therefore obliged to fall -back on the final resource of every woman in her -state. For in this connection "nothing to wear" -signified "nothing except my black silk"--at any -rate, in the Five Towns.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Marrier--my wife. Nellie, this is Mr. Marrier."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier was profuse: no other word would -describe his demeanour. Nellie had the timidity of -a young girl. Indeed, she looked quite youthful, -despite the aging influences of black silk.</p> -<p class="pnext">"So that's your Mr. Marrier! I understood -from you he was a clerk!" said Nellie tartly, -suddenly retransformed into the shrewd matron as soon -as Mr. Marrier had profusely gone. She had -conceived Marrier as a sort of Penkethman. Edward -Henry had hoped to avoid this interview.</p> -<p class="pnext">He shrugged his shoulders in answer to his wife's -remark.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," he said, "where are the kids?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Waiting in the lounge with Nurse, as you said -to be." Her mien delicately informed him that -while in London his caprices would be her law, which -she would obey without seeking to comprehend.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," he went on, "I expect they'd like the -parks as well as anything. Suppose we take 'em and -show 'em one of the parks? Shall we? Besides, -they must have fresh air."</p> -<p class="pnext">"All right," Nellie agreed. "But how far will it be?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh," said Edward Henry, "we'll crowd into a taxi!"</p> -<p class="pnext">They crowded into a taxi, and the children found -their father in high spirits. Maisie mentioned the -doll. In a minute the taxi had stopped in front of a -toy-shop surpassing dreams, and they invaded the -toy-shop like an army. When they emerged, after -a considerable interval, Nurse was carrying an -enormous doll, and Nellie was carrying Maisie, and Ralph -was lovingly stroking the doll's real shoes. Robert -kept a profound silence--a silence which had begun -in the train.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You haven't got much to say, Robert," his father -remarked when the taxi set off again.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I know," said Robert gruffly. Among other -things, he resented his best clothes on a week-day.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What do you think of London?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't know," said Robert.</p> -<p class="pnext">His eyes never left the window of the taxi.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then they visited the theatre--a very fatiguing -enterprise, and also, for Edward Henry, a very -nervous one. He was as awkward in displaying that -inchoate theatre as a newly-made father with his -first-born. Pride and shame fought for dominion over -him. Nellie was full of laudations. Ralph enjoyed -the ladders.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I say," said Nellie, apprehensive for Maisie, on -the pavement, "this child's exhausted already. How -big's this park of yours? Because neither Nurse -nor I can carry her very far."</p> -<p class="pnext">"We'll buy a pram," said Edward Henry. He -was staring at a newspaper placard which said: -"Isabel Joy on the war-path again. Will she win?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, yes, we'll buy a pram! Driver--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"A pram isn't enough. You'll want coverings -for her, in this wind."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, we'll buy the necessary number of -eiderdowns and blankets, then," said Edward Henry. -"Driver--"</p> -<p class="pnext">A tremendous business! For, in addition to -making the purchases, he had to feed his flock in an -A-B-C shop, where among the unoccupied waitresses -Maisie and her talkative winking doll enjoyed a -triumph. Still, there was plenty of time.</p> -<p class="pnext">At a quarter-past twelve he was displaying the -varied landscape beauties of the park to his family. -Ralph insisted on going to the bridge over the lake, -and Robert silently backed him. And therefore the -entire party went. But Maisie was afraid of the -water, and cried. Now, the worst thing about -Maisie was that when once she had begun to cry it -was very difficult to stop her. Even the most -remarkable dolls were powerless to appease her distress.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Give me the confounded pram, Nurse," said -Edward Henry, "I'll cure her."</p> -<p class="pnext">But he did not cure her. However, he had to -stick grimly to the perambulator. Nellie tripped -primly in black silk on one side of it. Nurse had the -wayward Ralph by the hand. And Robert, taciturn, -stalked alone, adding up London and making a very -small total of it.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly Edward Henry halted the perambulator -and, stepping away from it, raised his hat. An -excessively elegant young woman leading a Pekinese by -a silver chain stopped as if smitten by a magic dart -and held spellbound.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How do you do, Miss April?" said Edward -Henry loudly. "I was hoping to meet you. This -is my wife. Nellie, this is Miss April." Nellie -bowed stiffly in her black silk. Naught of the fresh -maiden about her now! And it has to be said that -Elsie April, in all her young and radiant splendour -and woman-of-the-worldliness, was equally stiff. -"And there are my two boys. And this is my little -girl in the pram."</p> -<p class="pnext">Maisie screamed, and pushed an expensive doll -out of the perambulator. Edward Henry saved it -by its boot as it fell.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And this is her doll. And this is Nurse," he -finished. "Fine breezy morning, isn't it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">In due course the processions moved on.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, that's done!" Edward Henry muttered -to himself, and sighed.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-first-night">CHAPTER IX</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">THE FIRST NIGHT</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">I.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was upon an evening in June--and a fine -evening, full of the exquisite melancholy of -summer in a city--that Edward Henry stood -before a window, drumming thereon as he had once, -a less experienced man with hair slightly less gray, -drummed on the table of the mighty and arrogant -Slosson. The window was the window of the -managerial room of the Regent Theatre. And he could -scarcely believe it, he could scarcely believe that he -was not in a dream, for the room was papered, -carpeted and otherwise furnished. Only its electric -light fittings were somewhat hasty and provisional, -and the white ceiling showed a hole and a bunch -of wires, like the nerves of a hollow tooth, whence -one of Edward Henry's favourite chandeliers would -ultimately depend.</p> -<p class="pnext">The whole of the theatre was at least as far -advanced toward completion as that room. A great -deal of it was more advanced; for instance the -auditorium, foyer, and bars, which were utterly finished, -so far as anything ever is finished in a changing -world. Wonders, marvels, and miracles had been -accomplished. Mr. Alloyd, in the stress of the -job, had even ceased to bring the Russian ballet into -his conversations. Mr. Alloyd, despite a growing -tendency to prove to Edward Henry by authentic -anecdote about midnight his general proposition that -women as a sex treated him with shameful unfairness, -had gained the high esteem of Edward Henry -as an architect. He had fulfilled his word about -those properties of the auditorium which had to do -with hearing and seeing--in-so-much that the -auditorium was indeed unique in London. And he had -taken care that the clerk of the Works took care -that the builder did not give up heart in the race -with time.</p> -<p class="pnext">Moreover he had maintained the peace with the -terrible London County Council, all of whose -inspecting departments seemed to have secretly -decided that the Regent Theatre should be opened, -not in June as Edward Henry had decided but at -some vague future date toward the middle of the -century. Months earlier Edward Henry had -ordained and announced that the Regent Theatre -should be inaugurated on a given date in June, at -the full height of splendour of the London season, -and he had astounded the theatrical world by -adhering through thick and thin to that date, and had -thereby intensified his reputation as an eccentric; for -the oldest inhabitant of that world could not recall -a case in which the opening of a new theatre had -not been promised for at least three widely different -dates.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry had now arrived at the eve of the -date, and if he had arrived there in comparative -safety, with a reasonable prospect of avoiding -complete shame and disaster, he felt and he admitted -that the credit was due as much to Mr. Alloyd as to -himself. Which only confirmed an early impression -of his that architects were queer people--rather -like artists and poets in some ways, but with a basis -of bricks and mortar to them.</p> -<p class="pnext">His own share in the enterprise of the Regent had -in theory been confined to engaging the right people -for the right tasks and situations; and to signing -checks. He had depended chiefly upon Mr. Marrier, -who, growing more radiant every day, had -gradually developed into a sort of chubby Napoleon, -taking an immense delight in detail and in choosing -minor hands at round-sum salaries on the spur of -the moment. Mr. Marrier refused no call upon his -energy. He was helping Carlo Trent in the -production and stage-management of the play. He -dried the tears of girlish neophytes at rehearsals. -He helped to number the stalls. He showed a -passionate interest in the tessellated pavement of the -entrance. He taught the managerial typewriting girl -how to make afternoon tea. He went to Hitchin to -find a mediæval chair required for the third act, -and found it. In a word he was fully equal to the -post of acting manager. He managed! He -managed everything and everybody except Edward -Henry, and except the press-agent, a functionary -whose conviction of his own indispensability and -importance was so sincere that even Marrier shared -it, and left him alone in his Bismarckian operations. -The press-agent, who sang in musical comedy chorus -at night, knew that if the Regent Theatre succeeded, -it would be his doing and his alone.</p> -<p class="pnext">And yet Edward Henry, though he had delegated -everything, had yet found a vast amount of work to -do; and was thereby exhausted. That was why he -was drumming on the pane. That was why he was -conscious of a foolish desire to shove his fist through -the pane. During the afternoon he had had two -scenes with two representatives of the Libraries (so -called because they deal in theatre-tickets and not in -books) who had declined to take up any of his tickets -in advance. He had commenced an action against a -firm of bill posters. He had settled an incipient -strike in the "limes" department, originated by -Mr. Cosmo Clark's views about lighting. He had -dictated answers to seventy-nine letters of complaint -from unknown people concerning the supply of free -seats for the first night. He had responded in the -negative to a request from a newspaper critic who, -on the score that he was deaf, wanted a copy of the -play. He had replied finally to an official of the -County Council about the smoke trap over the stage. -He had replied finally to another official of the -County Council about the electric sign. He had -attended to a new curiosity on the part of another -official of the County Council about the iron curtain. -And he had been almost rude to still another official -of the County Council about the wiring of the -electric light in the dressing-rooms. He had been -unmistakably and pleasurably rude in writing to -Slossons about their criticisms of the lock on the door -of Lord Woldo's private entrance to the theatre. -Also he had arranged with the representative of the -Chief Commissioner of Police concerning the -carriage regulations for "setting-down and taking-up."</p> -<p class="pnext">And he had indeed had more than enough. His -nerves, though he did not know it, and would have -scorned the imputation, were slowly giving way. -Hence, really, the danger to the pane! Through -the pane, in the dying light he could see a -cross-section of Shaftesbury Avenue, and an aged -newspaper lad leaning against a lamp-post and displaying -a poster which spoke of Isabel Joy. Isabel Joy yet -again! That little fact of itself contributed to his -exasperation. He thought, considering the -importance of the Regent Theatre and the salary he was -paying to his press-agent, that the newspapers ought -to occupy their pages solely with the metropolitan -affairs of Edward Henry Machin. But the wretched -Isabel had, as it were, got London by the throat. -She had reached Chicago from the West, on her -triumphant way home, and had there contrived to be -arrested, according to boast, but she was experiencing -much more difficulty in emerging from the -Chicago prison than in entering it. And the question -was now becoming acute whether the emissary of -the militant Suffragettes would arrive back in -London within the specified period of a hundred days. -Naturally, London was holding its breath. London -will keep calm during moderate crises--such as a -national strike or the agony of the House of Lords--but -when the supreme excitation is achieved London -knows how to let itself go.</p> -<p class="pnext">"If you please, Mr. Machin--"</p> -<p class="pnext">He turned. It was his typewriter, Miss Lindop, -a young girl of some thirty-five years, holding a -tea-tray.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But I've had my tea once!" he snapped.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But you've not had your dinner, sir, and it's -half-past eight!" she pleaded.</p> -<p class="pnext">He had known this girl for less than a month and -he paid her fewer shillings a week than the years -of her age, and yet somehow she had assumed a -worshipping charge of him, based on the idea that -he was incapable of taking care of himself. To -look at her appealing eyes one might have thought -that she would have died to insure his welfare.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And they want to see you about the linoleum -for the gallery stairs," she added timidly. "The -County Council man says it must be taken up."</p> -<p class="pnext">The linoleum for the gallery stairs! Something -snapped in him. He almost walked right through -the young woman and the tea-tray.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll linoleum them!" he bitterly exclaimed, and -disappeared.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Having duly "linoleumed them," or rather having -very annoyingly quite failed to "linoleum them," -Edward Henry continued his way up the right-hand -gallery staircase and reached the auditorium, -where to his astonishment a good deal of electricity, -at one penny three farthings a unit, was blazing. -Every seat in the narrow and high-pitched gallery, -where at the sides the knees of one spectator would -be on a level with the picture-hat of the spectator -in the row beneath, had a perfect and entire view -of the proscenium opening. And Edward Henry -now proved this unprecedented fact by -climbing to the topmost corner seat and therefrom -surveying the scene of which he was monarch. -The boxes were swathed in their new white -dust sheets; and likewise the higgledy-piggledy -stalls, not as yet screwed down to the floor, save -three or four stalls in the middle of the front row, -from which the sheet had been removed. On one -of these seats, far off though it was, he could descry -a paper bag,--probably containing sandwiches,--and -on another a pair of gloves and a walking-stick. -Several alert ladies with sketchbooks walked -uneasily about in the aisles. The orchestra was hidden -in the well provided for it, and apparently -murmuring in its sleep. The magnificent drop-curtain, -designed by Saracen Givington, A.R.A., concealed -the stage.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly Mr. Marrier and Carlo Trent appeared -through the iron door that gave communication--to -initiates--between the wings and the auditorium; -they sat down in the stalls. And the curtain rose -with a violent swish, and disclosed the first "set" of -"The Orient Pearl."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What about that amber, Cosmo?" Mr. Marrier -cried thickly, after a pause, his mouth occupied -with sandwich.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There you are!" came the reply.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Right!" said Mr. Marrier. "Strike!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Don't strike!" contradicted Carlo Trent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Strike, I tell you! We must get on with the -second act." The voices resounded queerly in the -empty theatre.</p> -<p class="pnext">The stage was invaded by scene shifters before -the curtain could descend again.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry heard a tripping step behind him. -It was the faithful typewriting girl.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I say," he said. "Do you mind telling me -what's going on here? It's true that in the rush of -more important business I'd almost forgotten that a -theatre is a place where they perform plays."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's the dress-rehearsal, Mr. Machin," said the -woman, startled and apologetic.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But the dress-rehearsal was fixed for three -o'clock," said he. "It must have been finished three -hours ago."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I think they've only just done the first act," the -woman breathed. "I know they didn't begin till -seven. Oh! Mr. Machin, of course it's no affair -of mine, but I've worked in a good many theatres, -and I do think it's such a mistake to have the -dress-rehearsal quite private. If you get a hundred or so -people in the stalls, then it's an audience, and -there's much less delay and everything goes much -better. But when it's private a dress-rehearsal is -just like any other rehearsal."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Only more so, perhaps," said Edward Henry, -smiling.</p> -<p class="pnext">He saw that he had made her happy; but he -saw also that he had given her empire over him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've got your tea here," she said, rather like a -hospital nurse now. "Won't you drink it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll drink it if it's not stewed," he muttered.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" she protested. "Of course it isn't! I -poured it off the leaves into another teapot before -I brought it up."</p> -<p class="pnext">She went behind the barrier, and reappeared -balancing a cup of tea with a slice of sultana cake -edged on the saucer. And as she handed it to -him--the sustenance of rehearsals--she gazed at him -and he could almost hear her eyes saying: "You -poor thing!"</p> -<p class="pnext">There was nothing that he hated so much as to -be pitied.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You go home!" he commanded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, but--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You go home! See?" He paused, threatening. -"If you don't clear out on the tick, I'll chuck -this cup and saucer down into the stalls."</p> -<p class="pnext">Horrified, she vanished.</p> -<p class="pnext">He sighed his relief.</p> -<p class="pnext">After some time, the leader of the orchestra -climbed into his chair, and the orchestra began to -play, and the curtain went up again, on the second -act of the masterpiece in hexameters. The new -scenery, which Edward Henry had with extraordinary -courage insisted on Saracen Givington substituting -for the original incomprehensibilities displayed -at the Azure Society's performance, rather pleased -him. Its colouring was agreeable, and it did -resemble something definite. You could, though -perhaps not easily, tell what it was meant to represent. -The play proceeded, and the general effect was -surprisingly pleasant to Edward Henry. And then -Rose Euclid as Haidee came on for the great scene -of the act. From the distance of the gallery she -looked quite passably youthful, and beyond question -she had a dominating presence in her resplendent -costume. She was incomparably and amazingly better -than she had been at the few previous rehearsals -which Edward Henry had been unfortunate enough -to witness. She even reminded him of his earliest -entrancing vision of her.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Some people may <em class="italics">like</em> this!" he admitted, with -a gleam of optimism. Hitherto, for weeks past, he -had gone forward with his preparations in the most -frigid and convinced pessimism. It seemed to him -that he had become involved in a vast piece of -machinery, and that nothing short of blowing the -theatre up with dynamite would bring the cranks and -pistons to a stop. And yet it seemed to him also -that everything was unreal, that the contracts he -signed were unreal, and the proofs he passed, and -the posters he saw on the walls of London, and the -advertisements in the newspapers. Only the checks -he drew had the air of being real. And now, in a -magic flash, after a few moments gazing at the -stage, he saw all differently. He scented triumph -from afar off, as one sniffs the tang of the sea. On -the morrow he had to meet Nellie at Euston, and -he had shrunk from meeting her, with her terrible -remorseless, provincial, untheatrical common sense; -but now, in another magic flash, he envisaged -the meeting with a cock-a-doodle-doo of hope. -Strange! He admitted it was strange.</p> -<p class="pnext">And then he failed to hear several words spoken -by Rose Euclid. And then a few more. As the -emotion of the scene grew, the proportion of her -words audible in the gallery diminished. Until she -became, for him, totally inarticulate, raving away -there and struggling in a cocoon of hexameters.</p> -<p class="pnext">Despair seized him. His nervous system, every -separate nerve of it, was on the rack once more.</p> -<p class="pnext">He stood up in a sort of paroxysm and called -loudly across the vast intervening space:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Speak more distinctly, please."</p> -<p class="pnext">A fearful silence fell upon the whole theatre. -The rehearsal stopped. The building itself seemed -to be staggered. Somebody had actually demanded -that words should be uttered articulately!</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier turned toward the intruder, as one -determined to put an end to such singularities.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who's up theyah?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am," said Edward Henry. "And I want it -to be clearly understood in my theatre that the first -thing an actor has to do is to make himself heard. -I daresay I'm devilish odd, but that's how I look at it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Whom do you mean, Mr. Machin?" asked -Marrier in a different tone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I mean Miss Euclid of course. Here I've -spent Heaven knows how much on the acoustics of -this theatre, and I can't make out a word she says. -I can hear all the others. And this is the -dress-rehearsal!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You must remember you're in the gallery," said -Mr. Marrier firmly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what if I am! I'm not giving gallery -seats away to-morrow night. It's true I'm giving -half the stalls away, but the gallery will be paid for."</p> -<p class="pnext">Another silence.</p> -<p class="pnext">Said Rose Euclid sharply, and Edward Henry -caught every word with the most perfect distinctness:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm sick and tired of people saying they can't -make out what I say! They actually write me -letters about it! Why <em class="italics">should</em> people make out what -I say?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She quitted the stage.</p> -<p class="pnext">Another silence....</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ring down the curtain," said Mr. Marrier in a -thrilled voice.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">III.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Shortly afterward Mr. Marrier came into -the managerial office, lit up now, where -Edward Henry was dictating to his typewriter -and hospital nurse, who, having been caught in hat -and jacket on the threshold, had been brought back -and was tapping his words direct on to the machine. -It was a remarkable fact that the sole proprietor -of the Regent Theatre was now in high spirits and -good-humour.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, Marrier, my boy," he saluted the acting -manager, "how are you getting on with that rehearsal?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, sir," said Mr. Marrier, "I'm not getting -on with it. Miss Euclid refuses absolutely to -proceed. She's in her dressing-room."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But why?" enquired Edward Henry with bland -surprise. "Doesn't she <em class="italics">want</em> to be heard by her -gallery-boys?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier showed a feeble smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">"She hasn't been spoken to like that for thirty -years," said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But don't you agree with me?" asked Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," said Marrier, "I <em class="italics">agree</em> with you--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"And doesn't your friend Carlo want his precious -hexameters to be heard?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"We baoth agree with you," said Marrier. -"The fact is, we've done all we could, but it's no -use. She's splendid; only--" He paused.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Only you can't make out ten per cent. of what -she says," Edward Henry finished for him. "Well, -I've got no use for that in my theatre." He found -a singular pleasure in emphasising the phrase, "my -theatre."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's all very well," said Marrier. "But what -are you going to <em class="italics">do</em> about it? I've tried everything. -<em class="italics">You've</em> come in and burst up the entire show, if -you'll forgive my saying saoh!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do?" exclaimed Edward Henry. "It's -perfectly simple. All you have to do is to act. God -bless my soul, aren't you getting fifteen pounds -a week, and aren't you my acting manager? -Act, then! You've done enough hinting. You've -proved that hints are no good. You'd have known -that from your birth up, Marrier, if you'd been -born in the Five Towns. Act, my boy."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But haow? If she won't go on, she won't."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is her understudy in the theatre?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes. It's Miss Cunningham, you knaow."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What salary does she get?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ten pounds a week."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What for?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well--partly to understudy, I suppose."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let her earn it, then. Go on with the rehearsal. -And let her play the part to-morrow night. -She'll be delighted, you bet."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss Lindop," Edward Henry interrupted, -"will you please read to Mr. Marrier what I've -dictated?" He turned to Marrier. "It's an -interview with myself for one of to-morrow's papers."</p> -<p class="pnext">Miss Lindop, with tears in her voice if not in -her eyes, obeyed the order and, drawing the paper -from the machine, read its contents aloud.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier started back--not in the figurative -but in the literal sense--as he listened.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But you'll never send that out!" he exclaimed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why not?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No paper will print it!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"My dear Marrier," said Edward Henry. -"Don't be a simpleton. You know as well as I -do that half-a-dozen papers will be delighted to -print it. And all the rest will copy the one that -does print it. It'll be the talk of London to-morrow, -and Isabel Joy will be absolutely snuffed out."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Mr. Marrier. "I never heard of -such a thing!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Pity you didn't, then!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier moved away.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I say," he murmured at the door. "Don't you -think you ought to read that to Rose first?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll read it to Rose like a bird," said Edward -Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">Within two minutes--it was impossible to get -from his room to the dressing-rooms in less--he -was knocking at Rose Euclid's door. "Who's -there?" said a voice. He entered and then replied, -"I am."</p> -<p class="pnext">Rose Euclid was smoking a cigarette and scratching -the arm of an easy-chair behind her. Her maid -stood near by with a whisky-and-soda.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Sorry you can't go on with the rehearsal, Miss -Euclid," said Edward Henry very quickly. "However, -we must do the best we can. But Mr. Marrier -thought you'd like to hear this. It's part of an -interview with me that's going to appear to-morrow -in the press."</p> -<p class="pnext">Without pausing, he went on to read: "'I found -Mr. Alderman Machin, the hero of the Five Towns -and the proprietor and initiator of London's newest -and most up-to-date and most intellectual theatre, -surrounded by a complicated apparatus of telephones -and typewriters in his managerial room at the -Regent. He received me very courteously. "Yes," -he said in response to my question, "The rumour -is quite true. The principal part in 'The Orient -Pearl' will be played on the first night by Miss -Euclid's understudy, Miss Olga Cunningham, a -young woman of very remarkable talent. No; Miss -Euclid is not ill or even indisposed. But she and -I have had a grave difference of opinion. The point -between us was whether Miss Euclid's speeches -ought to be clearly audible in the auditorium. I -considered they ought. I may be wrong. I may -be provincial. But that was and is my view. At -the dress-rehearsal, seated in the gallery, I could -not hear her lines. I objected. She refused to -consider the subject or to proceed with the rehearsal. -<em class="italics">Hinc illæ lachrymæ!</em>" ... "Not at all," said -Mr. Machin in reply to a question, "I have the highest -admiration for Miss Euclid's genius. I should not -presume to dictate to her as to her art. She has -had a very long experience of the stage, very long, -and doubtless knows better than I do. Only, the -Regent happens to be my theatre, and I'm -responsible for it. Every member of the audience will -have a complete uninterrupted view of the stage, -and I intend that every member of the audience -shall hear every word that is uttered on the stage. -I'm odd, I know. But then I've a reputation for -oddness to keep up. And by the way I'm sure that -Miss Cunningham will make a great reputation for -herself."'"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not while I'm here, she won't!" exclaimed -Rose Euclid standing up, and enunciating her words -with marvellous clearness.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry glanced at her, and then continued -to read: "Suggestions for headlines. 'Piquant -quarrel between manager and star actress.' 'Unparalleled -situation.' 'Trouble at the Regent Theatre.'"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Machin," said Rose Euclid, "you are not -a gentleman."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd hardly think so, would you?" mused -Edward Henry, as if mildly interested in this new -discovery of Miss Euclid's.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Maria," said the star to her maid, "go and -tell Mr. Marrier I'm coming."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And I'll go back to the gallery," said Edward -Henry. "It's the place for people like me, isn't -it? I daresay I'll tear up this paper later, Miss -Euclid--we'll see."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">IV.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">On the next night a male figure in evening dress -and a pale overcoat might have been seen standing -at the corner of Piccadilly Circus and Lower -Regent Street, staring at an electric sign in the shape -of a shield which said in its glittering, throbbing -speech of incandescence:</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst white-space-pre-line">THE REGENT<br /> -ROSE EUCLID<br /> -IN<br /> -THE ORIENT PEARL</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The figure crossed the Circus, and stared at the -sign from a new point of view. Then it passed along -Coventry Street, and stared at the sign from yet -another point of view. Then it reached Shaftesbury -Avenue, and stared again. Then it returned -to its original station. It was the figure of Edward -Henry Machin, savouring the glorious electric sign -of which he had dreamed. He lit a cigarette, and -thought of Seven Sachs gazing at the name of Seven -Sachs in fire on the façade of a Broadway theatre -in New York. Was not this London phenomenon -at least as fine? He considered it was. The -Regent Theatre existed--there it stood! (What a -name for a theatre!) Its windows were all illuminated. -Its entrance-lamps bathed the pavement in -light, and in this radiance stood the commissionaires -in their military pride and their new uniforms. A -line of waiting automobiles began a couple of yards -to the north of the main doors and continued round -all sorts of dark corners and up all manner of back -streets toward Golden Square itself. Marrier had -had the automobiles counted and had told him the -number--, but such was Edward Henry's condition -that he had forgotten. A row of boards reared on -the pavement against the walls of the façade said: -"Stalls Full," "Private Boxes Full," "Dress Circle -Full," "Upper Circle Full," "Pit Full," "Gallery -Full." And attached to the ironwork of the glazed -entrance canopy was a long board which gave the -same information in terser form: "House Full." The -Regent had indeed been obliged to refuse quite -a lot of money on its opening night.</p> -<p class="pnext">After all, the inauguration of a new theatre was -something, even in London! Important personages -had actually begged the privilege of buying seats -at normal prices, and had been refused. -Unimportant personages, such as those who boast in the -universe that they had never missed a first night in -the West End for twenty, thirty, or even fifty years, -had tried to buy seats at abnormal prices, and had -failed; which was in itself a tragedy. Edward -Henry at the final moment had yielded his wife's -stall to the instances of a Minister of the Crown, -and at Lady Woldo's urgent request had put her into -Lady Woldo's private landowner's box, where also -was Miss Elsie April who "had already had -the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Machin." Edward -Henry's first night was an event of magnitude. And -he alone was responsible for it. His volition alone -had brought into being that grand edifice whose -light yellow walls now gleamed in nocturnal mystery -under the shimmer of countless electric bulbs.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There goes pretty nigh forty thousand pounds -of my money!" he reflected, excitedly.</p> -<p class="pnext">And he reflected:</p> -<p class="pnext">"After all, I'm somebody."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he glanced down Lower Regent Street and -saw Sir John Pilgrim's much larger theatre, now -sublet to a tenant who also was lavish with displays -of radiance. And he reflected that on first nights -Sir John Pilgrim, in addition to doing all that he -himself had done, would hold the great rôle on the -stage throughout the evening. And he admired the -astounding, dazzling energy of such a being, and -admitted ungrudgingly:</p> -<p class="pnext">"He's somebody too! I wonder what part of -the world he's illuminating just now!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry did not deny to his soul that he -was extremely nervous. He would not and could -not face even the bare possibility that the first play -presented at the new theatre might be a failure. -He had meant to witness the production incognito -among the crowd in the pit or in the gallery. But, -after visiting the pit a few moments before the -curtain went up, he had been appalled by the -hard-hearted levity of the pit's remarks on things in -general. The pit did not seem to be in any way -chastened or softened by the fact that a fortune, -that reputations, that careers were at stake. He -had fled from the packed pit. (As for the gallery, -he decided that he had already had enough of the -gallery.)</p> -<p class="pnext">He had wandered about corridors and to and -fro in his own room and in the wings, and even in -the basement, as nervous as a lost cat or an author, -and as self-conscious as a criminal who knows -himself to be on the edge of discovery. It was a fact -that he could not look people in the eyes. The -reception of the first act had been fairly amiable, and -he had suffered horribly as he listened for the -applause. Catching sight of Carlo Trent in the -distance of a passage, he had positively run away from -Carlo Trent. The first entr'acte had seemed to last -for about three months. Its nightmarish length had -driven him almost to lunacy. The "feel" of the -second act, so far as it mystically communicated -itself to him in his place of concealment, had been -better. At the end of the second fall of the -curtain the applause had been enthusiastic. Yes, -enthusiastic!</p> -<p class="pnext">Curiously, it was the revulsion caused by this new -birth of hope that, while the third act was being -played, had driven him out of the theatre. His -wild hope needed ozone. His breast had to -expand in the boundless prairie of Piccadilly Circus. -His legs had to walk. His arms had to swing.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now he crossed the Circus again to his own -pavement and gazed like a stranger at his own posters. -On several of them, encircled in a scarlet ring, was -the sole name of Rose Euclid--impressive! (And -smaller, but above it, the legend "E. H. Machin. -Sole proprietor.") He asked himself impartially, -as his eyes uneasily left the poster and slipped round -the Circus, deserted save by a few sinister and idle -figures at that hour, "Should I have sent that -interview to the papers, or shouldn't I? ... I wonder. -I expect some folks would say on the whole I've -been rather hard on Rose since I first met -her! ... Anyhow, she's speaking up all right to-night!" He -laughed shortly.</p> -<p class="pnext">A newsboy floated up from the Circus bearing -a poster with the name of Isabel Joy on it in large -letters.</p> -<p class="pnext">He thought:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Be blowed to Isabel Joy!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He did not care a fig for Isabel Joy's competition now.</p> -<p class="pnext">And then a small door opened in the wall close -by, and an elegant, cloaked woman came out on to -the pavement. The door was the private door -leading to the private box of Lord Woldo, owner of -the ground upon which the Regent Theatre was -built. The woman he recognised with confusion -as Elsie April, whom he had not seen alone since the -Azure Society's night.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What are you doing out here, Mr. Machin?" -she greeted him with pleasant composure.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm thinking," said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's going splendidly," she remarked. "Really! -I'm just running round to the stage door to meet -dear Rose as she comes off. What a delightful -woman your wife is! So pretty, and so sensible!"</p> -<p class="pnext">She disappeared round the corner before he could -compose a suitable husband's reply to this -laudation of a wife.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then the commissionaires at the entrance seemed -to start into life. And then suddenly several -preoccupied men strode rapidly out of the theatre, -buttoning their coats, and vanished, phantom-like. -Critics, on their way to destruction!</p> -<p class="pnext">The performance must be finishing. Hastily he -followed in the direction taken by Elsie April.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was in the wings, on the prompt side. Close -by stood the prompter, an untidy youth with -imperfections of teeth, clutching hard at the red-scored -manuscript of "The Orient Pearl." Sundry players, -of varying stellar degrees, were posed around -in the opulent costumes designed by Saracen -Givington, A.R.A. Miss Lindop was in the background, -ecstatically happy, her cheeks a race-course -of tears. Afar off, in the centre of the stage, alone, -stood Rose Euclid, gorgeous in green and silver, -bowing and bowing and bowing--bowing before -the storm of approval and acclamation that swept -from the auditorium across the footlights.</p> -<p class="pnext">With a sound like that of tearing silk, or of a -gigantic contralto mosquito, the curtain swished down, -and swished up, and swished down again. Bouquets -flew on to the stage from the auditorium (a custom -newly imported from the United States by Miss -Euclid, and encouraged by her, though contrary to the -lofty canons of London taste). The actress already -held one huge trophy, shaped as a crown, to her -breast. She hesitated, and then ran to the wings, -and caught Edward Henry by the wrist impulsively, -madly. They shook hands in an ecstasy. It was -as though they recognised in one another a -fundamental and glorious worth; it was as though no -words could ever express the depth of appreciation, -affection and admiration which each intensely felt -for the other; it was as though this moment were -the final consecration of twin lives whose long, loyal -comradeship had never been clouded by the faintest -breath of mutual suspicion. Rose Euclid was still -the unparalleled star, the image of grace and beauty -and dominance upon the stage. And yet quite -clearly Edward Henry saw close to his the wrinkled, -damaged, daubed face and thin neck of an old -woman; and it made no difference.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Rose!" cried a strained voice, and Rose Euclid -wrenched herself from him and tumbled with half -a sob into the clasping arms of Elsie April.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've saved the intellectual theatah for -London, my boy! That's what you've done!" Marrier -was now gripping his hand. And Edward -Henry was convinced that he had.</p> -<p class="pnext">The strident vigour of the applause showed no -diminution. And through the thick heavy rain of -it could be heard the monotonous insistent -detonations of one syllable:</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Thor! 'Thor! 'Thor! Thor! Thor!"</p> -<p class="pnext">And then another syllable was added:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mechanically Edward Henry lit a cigarette. He -had no consciousness of doing so.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Where is Trent?" people were asking.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent appeared up a staircase at the back of -the stage.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've got to go on," said Marrier. "Now, -pull yourself togethah. The Great Beast is calling -for you. Say a few wahds."</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent in his turn seized the hand of -Edward Henry, and it was for all the world as though -he were seizing the hand of an intellectual and poetic -equal, and wrung it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come now!" Mr. Marrier, beaming, admonished -him, and then pushed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What must I say?" stammered Carlo.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Whatever comes into your head."</p> -<p class="pnext">"All right! I'll say something."</p> -<p class="pnext">A man in a dirty white apron, drew back the heavy -mass of the curtain about eighteen inches, and, Carlo -Trent stepping forward, the glare of the footlights -suddenly lit his white face. The applause, now -multiplied fivefold and become deafening, seemed to -beat him back against the curtain. His lips worked. -He did not bow.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Cam back, you fool!" whispered Marrier.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Carlo Trent stepped back into safe shelter.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why didn't you say something?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I c-couldn't," murmured the greatest dramatic -poet in the world; and began to cry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here!" said Edward Henry gruffly. "Get -out of my way! I'll settle 'em. Get out of my -way!" And he riddled Carlo Trent with a -fusillade of savagely scornful glances.</p> -<p class="pnext">The man in the apron obediently drew back the -curtain again, and the next second Edward Henry -was facing an auditorium crowded with his patrons. -Everybody was standing up, chiefly in the aisles and -crowded at the entrances, and quite half the people -were waving, and quite a quarter of them were -shouting. He bowed several times. An age elapsed. -His ears were stunned. But it seemed to him that -his brain was working with marvellous perfection. -He perceived that he had been utterly wrong about -"The Orient Pearl." And that all his advisers had -been splendidly right. He had failed to catch its -charm and to feel its power. But this audience--this -magnificent representative audience drawn from -London in the brilliant height of the season--had -not failed.</p> -<p class="pnext">It occurred to him to raise his hand. And as -he raised his hand it occurred to him that his hand -held a lighted cigarette. A magic hush fell upon -the magnificent audience, which owned all that -endless line of automobiles outside. Edward Henry, in -the hush, took a pull at his cigarette.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, pitching his -voice well, for municipal politics had made him a -practised public speaker, "I congratulate you. -This evening you--have succeeded!"</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a roar, confused, mirthful, humorously -protesting. He distinctly heard a man in the front -row of the stalls say: "Well, for sheer nerve--!" And -then go off into a peal of laughter.</p> -<p class="pnext">He smiled and retired.</p> -<p class="pnext">Marrier took charge of him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You merit the entire confectioner's shop!" -exclaimed Marrier, aghast, admiring, triumphant.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now Edward Henry had had no intention of -meriting cake. He had merely followed in speech -the secret train of his thought. But he saw that he -had treated a West End audience as a West End -audience had never before been treated, and that -his audacity had conquered. Hence he determined -not to refuse the cake.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Didn't I tell you I'd settle 'em?" said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">The band played "God Save the King."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VI.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">One hour later, in the double-bedded chamber at -the Majestic, as his wife lay in bed and he was -methodically folding up a creased white tie and -inspecting his chin in the mirror, he felt that he was -touching again, after an immeasurable interval, the -rock-bottom of reality. Nellie, even when he could -see only her face, and that in a mirror, was the -most real phenomenon in his existence, and she -possessed the strange faculty of dispelling all unreality, -round about her.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," he said. "How did you get on in the box?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" she replied, "I got on very well with the -Woldo woman. She's one of our sort. But I'm -not so set up with your Elsie April."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Dash this collar!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Nellie continued:</p> -<p class="pnext">"And I can tell you another thing. I don't envy -Mr. Rollo Wrissel."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's Wrissel got to do with it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"She means to marry him."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Elsie April means to marry Wrissel?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"He was in and out of the box all night. It -was as plain as a pikestaff."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's amiss with my Elsie April?" Edward -Henry demanded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"She's a thought too <em class="italics">pleasant</em> for my taste," -answered Nellie.</p> -<p class="pnext">Astonishing, how pleasantness is regarded with -suspicion in the Five Towns, even by women who -can at a pinch be angels!</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VII.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Often during the brief night he gazed sleepily -at the vague next bed and mused upon the -extraordinariness of women's consciences. His wife -slept like an innocent. She always did. It was -as though she gently expired every evening and -returned gloriously to life every morning. The -sunshiny hours between three and seven were very -long to him, but it was indisputable that he did not -hear the clock strike six, which was, at any rate, -proof of a little sleep to the good. At five minutes -past seven he thought he heard a faint rustling noise -in the corridor, and he arose and tiptoed to the door -and opened it. Yes, the Majestic had its good -qualities! He had ordered that all the London -morning daily papers should be laid at his door -as early as possible, and there the pile was, -somewhat damp, and as fresh as fruit, with a slight odour -of ink. He took it in.</p> -<p class="pnext">His heart was beating as he climbed back into bed -with it and arranged pillows so that he could sit -up, and unfolded the first paper. Nellie had not -stirred.</p> -<p class="pnext">Once again he was disappointed in the prominence -given by the powerful London press to his London -enterprise. In the first newspaper, a very important -one, he positively could not find any criticism of the -Regent's first night. There was nearly a page of -the offensive Isabel Joy, who was now appealing, -through the newspapers, to the President of the -United States. Isabel had been christened the -World-Circler, and the special correspondents of -the entire earth were gathered about her carpeted -cell. Hope still remained that she would reach -London within the hundred days. An unknown -adherent of the cause for which she suffered had -promised to give ten thousand pounds to that cause if -she did so. Furthermore, she was receiving over -sixty proposals of marriage a day. And so on and -so on! Most of this he gathered in an instant from -the headlines alone. Nauseating!</p> -<p class="pnext">Another annoying item in the paper was a column -and a half given to the foundation-stone laying of -the First New Thought Church, in Dean Street, -Soho--about a couple of hundred yards from its original -site. He hated the First New Thought Church as -one always hates that to which one has done an injury.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he found what he was searching for: "Regent -Theatre. Production of poetical drama at -London's latest playhouse." After all, it was well -situated in the paper, on quite an important page, and -there was over a column of it. But in his nervous -excitation his eyes had missed it. His eyes now read -it. Over half of it was given to a discussion of the -Don Juan legend and the significance of the Byronic -character of Haidee--obviously written before the -performance. A description of the plot occupied -most of the rest, and a reference to the acting ended -it. "Miss Rose Euclid in the trying and occasionally -beautiful part of Haidee was all that her admirers -could have wished" ... "Miss Cunningham -distinguished herself by her diction and bearing -in the small part of the Messenger." The final -words were: "The reception was quite favourable."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Quite favourable," indeed! Edward Henry had -a chill. Good heavens, was not the reception -ecstatically, madly, foolishly enthusiastic? "Why!" -he exclaimed within, "I never saw such a -reception!" It was true; but then he had never seen -any other first night. He was shocked, as well as -chilled. And for this reason: For weeks past all -the newspapers, in their dramatic gossip, had -contained highly sympathetic references to his -enterprise. According to the paragraphs, he was a -wondrous man, and the theatre was a wondrous -house, the best of all possible theatres, and Carlo -Trent was a great writer, and Rose Euclid exactly -as marvellous as she had been a quarter of a -century before, and the prospects of the -intellectual-poetic drama in London so favourable as to amount -to a certainty of success.</p> -<p class="pnext">In those columns of dramatic gossip there was no -flaw in the theatrical world. In those columns of -dramatic gossip no piece ever failed, though -sometimes a piece was withdrawn, regretfully and against -the wishes of the public, to make room for another -piece. In those columns of dramatic gossip theatrical -managers, actors, and especially actresses, and -even authors, were benefactors of society, and -therefore they were treated with the deference, the -gentleness, the heartfelt sympathy which benefactors of -society merit and ought to receive.</p> -<p class="pnext">The tone of the criticism of the first night was -different--it was subtly, not crudely, different. -But different it was.</p> -<p class="pnext">The next newspaper said the play was bad and -the audience indulgent. It was very severe on Carlo -Trent, and very kind to the players, whom it -regarded as good men and women in adversity--with -particular laudations for Miss Rose Euclid and the -Messenger. The next newspaper said the play was a -masterpiece, and would be so hailed in any country but -England. England, however--! Unfortunately -this was a newspaper whose political opinions -Edward Henry despised. The next newspaper praised -everything and everybody, and called the reception -tumultuously enthusiastic. And Edward Henry felt -as though somebody, mistaking his face for a slice -of toast, had spread butter all over it. Even the -paper's parting assurance that the future of the -higher drama in London was now safe beyond -question did not remove this delusion of butter.</p> -<p class="pnext">The two following newspapers were more sketchy -or descriptive, and referred at some length to -Edward Henry's own speech, with a kind of sub-hint -that Edward Henry had better mind what he was -about. Three illustrated papers had photographs -of scenes and figures, but nothing important in the -matter of criticism. The rest were "neither one -thing nor the other," as they say in the Five Towns. -On the whole, an inscrutable press, a disconcerting, -a startling, an appetite-destroying, but not a hopeless -press. The general impression which he gathered -from his perusals was that the author was a pretentious -dullard, an absolute criminal, a genius; that -the actors and actresses were all splendid and worked -hard, though conceivably one or two of them had -been set impossible tasks--to wit, tasks unsuited -to their personalities; that he himself was a -Napoleon, a temerarious individual, an incomprehensible -fellow; and that the future of the intellectual-poetic -drama in London was not a topic of burning -actuality.... He remembered sadly the superlative-laden -descriptions, in those same newspapers, of -the theatre itself, a week or two back, the unique -theatre in which the occupant of every seat had a -complete and uninterrupted view of the whole of -the proscenium opening. Surely that fact alone -ought to have ensured proper treatment for him!</p> -<p class="pnext">Then Nellie woke up, and saw the scattered -newspapers.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," she asked; "what do they say?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" he replied lightly, with a laugh. "Just -about what you'd expect. Of course you know what -a first-night audience always is. Too generous. -And ours was, particularly. Miss April saw to -that. She had the Azure Society behind her, and -she was determined to help Rose Euclid. However, -I should say it was all right--I should say it was -quite all right. I told you it was a gamble, you know."</p> -<p class="pnext">When Nellie, dressing, said that she considered -she ought to go back home that day, he offered no -objection. Indeed he rather wanted her to go. -Not that he had a desire to spend the whole of his -time at the theatre, unhampered by provincial -women in London. On the contrary, he was aware -of a most definite desire not to go to the theatre. -He lay in bed and watched with careless curiosity -the rapid processes of Nellie's toilette. He had -his breakfast on the dressing-table (for he was not -at Wilkins's, neither at the Grand Babylon). Then -he helped her to pack, and finally he accompanied -her to Euston, where she kissed him with affectionate -common sense and caught the twelve five. He -was relieved that nobody from the Five Towns -happened to be going down by that train.</p> -<p class="pnext">As he turned away from the moving carriage, the -evening papers had just arrived at the bookstalls. -He bought the four chief organs--one green, one -yellowish, one white, one pink--and scanned them -self-consciously on the platform. The white organ -had a good heading: "Re-birth of the intellectual -drama in London. What a provincial has done. -Opinions of the leading men." Two columns -altogether! There was, however, little in the two -columns. The leading men had practised a sagacious -caution. They, like the press as a whole, were -obviously waiting to see which way the great -elephantine public would jump. When the enormous -animal had jumped, they would all exclaim: "What -did I tell you?" The other critiques were colourless. -At the end of the green critique occurred the -following sentence: "It is only fair to state, -nevertheless, that the play was favourably received by -an apparently enthusiastic audience."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nevertheless!" ... "Apparently!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry turned the page to the theatrical -advertisements.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="width: 54%" id="figure-12"> -<img class="align-center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/img-333.jpg" /> -<div class="caption figure"> -Theatrical advertisement</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Unreal! Fantastic! Was this he, Edward -Henry? Could it be still his mother's son?</p> -<p class="pnext">Still--"matinées every Wednesday and -Saturday." "<em class="italics">Every</em> Wednesday and Saturday." That -word implied and necessitated a long run, anyhow -a run extending over months. That word comforted -him. Though he knew as well as you do that -Mr. Marrier had composed the advertisement, and that -he himself was paying for it, it comforted him. He -was just like a child.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VIII.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"I say, Cunningham's made a hit!" Mr. Marrier -almost shouted at him as he entered the -managerial room at the Regent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Cunningham? Who's Cunningham?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he remembered. She was the girl who -played the Messenger. She had only three words -to say, and to say them over and over again; and she -had made a hit!</p> -<p class="pnext">"Seen the notices?" asked Marrier.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes. What of them?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! Well!" Marrier drawled. "What -would you expect?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's just what <em class="italics">I</em> said!" observed Edward -Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You did, did you?" Mr. Marrier exclaimed, as -if extremely interested by this corroboration of his -views.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent strolled in; he remarked that he happened -to be just passing. But the discussion of the -situation was not carried very far.</p> -<p class="pnext">That evening the house was nearly full, except the -pit and the gallery, which were nearly empty. -Applause was perfunctory.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How much?" Edward Henry enquired of the -box-office manager when figures were added together.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Thirty-one pounds two shillings."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Hem!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course," said Mr. Marrier. "In the height -of the London season, with so many counter-attractions--! -Besides, they've got to get used to the -idea of it."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry did not turn pale. Still, he was -aware that it cost him a trifle over sixty pounds "to -ring the curtain up" at every performance, and this -sum took no account of expenses of production nor -of author's fees. The sum would have been higher, -but he was calculating as rent of the theatre only -the ground-rent plus six per cent. on the total price -of the building.</p> -<p class="pnext">What disgusted him was the duplicity of the -first-night audience, and he said to himself violently: -"I was right all the time, and I knew I was right! -Idiots! Chumps! Of course I was right!"</p> -<p class="pnext">On the third night the house held twenty-seven -pounds and sixpence.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Naturally," said Mr. Marrier. "In this hot -weathah--! I never knew such a hot June! It's -the open-air places that are doing us in the eye. In -fact I heard to-day that the White City is packed. -They simply can't bank their money quick enough."</p> -<p class="pnext">It was on that day that Edward Henry paid -salaries. It appeared to him that he was providing -half London with a livelihood: acting managers, -stage managers, assistant ditto, property men, stage -hands, electricians, prompters, call boys, box-office -staff, general staff, dressers, commissionaires, -programme girls, cleaners, actors, actresses, -understudies, to say nothing of Rose Euclid at a purely -nominal salary of one hundred pounds a week. The -tenants of the bars were grumbling, but happily he -was getting money from them.</p> -<p class="pnext">The following day was Saturday. It rained--a -succession of thunderstorms. The morning and -the evening performances produced together -sixty-eight pounds.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Mr. Marrier. "In this kind of -weathah you can't expect people to come out, can -you? Besides, this cursed week-ending habit--"</p> -<p class="pnext">Which conclusions did not materially modify the -harsh fact that Edward Henry was losing over thirty -pounds a day--or at the rate of over ten thousand -pounds a year.</p> -<p class="pnext">He spent Sunday between his hotel and his club, -chiefly in reiterating to himself that Monday began -a new week and that something would have to -occur on Monday.</p> -<p class="pnext">Something did occur.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlo Trent lounged into the office early. The -man was forever being drawn to the theatre as by -an invisible but powerful elastic cord. The papers -had a worse attack than ever of Isabel Joy, for she -had been convicted of transgression in a Chicago -court of law, but a tremendous lawyer from -St. Louis had loomed over Chicago and, having -examined the documents in the case, was hopeful of -getting the conviction quashed. He had discovered -that in one and the same document "Isabel" had -been spelt "Isobel," and, worse, Illinois had been -deprived by a careless clerk of one of its "l's." He -was sure that by proving these grave irregularities -in American justice he could win on appeal.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry glanced up suddenly from the -newspaper. He had been inspired.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I say, Trent," he remarked, without any warning -or preparation, "you're not looking at all well. -I want a change myself. I've a good mind to take -you for a sea voyage."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh!" grumbled Trent. "I can't afford sea voyages."</p> -<p class="pnext">"<em class="italics">I</em> can!" said Edward Henry. "And I shouldn't -dream of letting it cost you a penny. I'm not a -philanthropist. But I know as well as anybody that -it will pay us theatrical managers to keep you in -health."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're not going to take the play off?" Trent -demanded suspiciously.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Certainly not!" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What sort of a sea voyage?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well--what price the Atlantic? Been to New -York? ... Neither have I! Let's go. Just for -the trip. It'll do us good."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You don't mean it!" murmured the greatest -dramatic poet, who had never voyaged farther than -the Isle of Wight. His eyeglass swung to and fro.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry feigned to resent this remark.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course I mean it. Do you take me for -a blooming gas-bag?" He rose. "Marrier!" Then -more loudly: "Marrier!" Mr. Marrier -entered. "Do you know anything about the -sailings to New York?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Rather!" said Mr. Marrier, beaming. After -all he was a most precious aid.</p> -<p class="pnext">"We may be able to arrange for a production in -New York," said Edward Henry to Carlo, mysteriously.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Marrier gazed at one and then at the other, -puzzled.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="isabel">CHAPTER X</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">ISABEL</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">I.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Throughout the voyage of the <em class="italics">Lithuania</em> -from Liverpool to New York, Edward -Henry, in common with some two thousand -other people on board, had the sensation of being -hurried. He who in a cab rides late to an important -appointment arrives with muscles fatigued by -mentally aiding the horse to move the vehicle along. -Thus were Edward Henry's muscles fatigued, and -the muscles of many others; but just as much more so -as the <em class="italics">Lithuania</em> was bigger than a cab.</p> -<p class="pnext">For the <em class="italics">Lithuania</em>, having been seriously delayed -in Liverpool by men who were most ridiculously -striking for the fantastic remuneration of one pound -a week, was engaged on the business of making new -records. And every passenger was personally -determined that she should therein succeed. And, -despite very bad June weather toward the end, she -did sail past the Battery on a grand Monday -morning with a new record to her credit.</p> -<p class="pnext">So far, Edward Henry's plan was not miscarrying. -But he had a very great deal to do and very little -time in which to do it, and whereas the muscles of -the other passengers were relaxed as the ship drew -to her berth Edward Henry's muscles were only -more tensely tightened. He had expected to see -Mr. Seven Sachs on the quay, for in response to -his telegram from Queenstown, the illustrious -actor-author had sent him an agreeable wireless message -in full Atlantic; the which had inspired Edward -Henry to obtain news by Marconi both from London -and New York, at much expense; from the east he -had had daily information of the dwindling receipts -at the Regent Theatre, and from the west daily -information concerning Isabel Joy. He had not, -however, expected Mr. Seven Sachs to walk into the -<em class="italics">Lithuania's</em> music-saloon an hour before the ship -touched the quay. Nevertheless this was what Mr. Seven -Sachs did, by the exercise of those mysterious -powers wielded by the influential in democratic communities.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what are you doing here?" Mr. Seven -Sachs greeted Edward Henry with geniality.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry lowered his voice.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm throwing good money after bad," said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">The friendly grip of Mr. Seven Sach's hand did -him good, reassured him, and gave him courage. -He was utterly tired of the voyage, and also of the -poetical society of Carlo Trent, whose passage had -cost him thirty pounds, considerable boredom, and -some sick-nursing during the final days and nights. -A dramatic poet with an appetite was a full dose for -Edward Henry; but a dramatic poet who lay on -his back and moaned for naught but soda water and -dry land amounted to more than Edward Henry -could conveniently swallow.</p> -<p class="pnext">He directed Mr. Sachs's attention to the anguished -and debile organism which had once been Carlo -Trent, and Mr. Sachs was so sympathetic that Carlo -Trent began to adore him, and Edward Henry to be -somewhat disturbed in his previous estimate of -Mr. Sachs's common sense. But at a favourable -moment Mr. Sachs breathed humorously into Edward -Henry's ear the question:</p> -<p class="pnext">"What have you brought <em class="italics">him</em> out for?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've brought him out to lose him."</p> -<p class="pnext">As they pushed through the bustle of the enormous -ship, and descended from the dizzy eminence -of her boat deck by lifts and ladders down to the -level of the windy, sun-steeped rock of New York, -Edward Henry said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now I want you to understand, Mr. Sachs, that -I haven't a minute to spare. I've just looked in for -lunch."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Going on to Chicago?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"She isn't in Chicago, is she?" demanded Edward -Henry, aghast. "I thought she'd reached New York!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Isabel Joy."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh! Isabel's in New York, sure enough. -She's right here. They say she'll have to catch the -<em class="italics">Lithuania</em> if she's going to get away with it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Get away with what?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well--the goods."</p> -<p class="pnext">The precious words reminded Edward Henry of -an evening at Wilkins's, and raised his spirits even -higher. It was a word he loved.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And I've got to catch the <em class="italics">Lithuania</em>, too!" said -he. "But Trent doesn't know! ... And, let me -tell you, she's going to do the quickest turn round -that any ship ever did. The purser assured me -she'll leave at noon to-morrow unless the world -comes to an end in the meantime. Now what about -a hotel?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll stay with me--naturally."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But--" Edward Henry protested.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, yes, you will. I shall be delighted."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But I must look after Trent."</p> -<p class="pnext">"He'll stay with me too--naturally. I live at -the Stuyvesant Hotel, you know, on Fifth. I've a -pretty good private suite there. I shall arrange a -little supper for to-night. My automobile is here."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is it possible that I once saved your life and -have forgotten all about it?" Edward Henry -exclaimed. "Or do you treat everybody like this?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"We like to look after our friends," said Mr. Sachs simply.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the terrific confusion of the quay, where groups -of passengers were mounted like watch dogs over -hillocks of baggage, Mr. Sachs stood continually -between the travellers and the administrative rigours -and official incredulity of a proud republic. And -in the minimum of time the fine trunk of Edward -Henry and the modest packages of the poet were on -the roof of Mr. Sachs's vast car, the three men were -inside, and the car was leaping, somewhat in the -manner of a motor boat at full speed, over the -cobbles of a wide, medieval street.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Quick!" thought Edward Henry. "I haven't -a minute to lose!"</p> -<p class="pnext">His prayer reached the chauffeur. Conversation -was difficult; Carlo Trent groaned. Presently they -rolled less perilously upon asphalt, though the -equipage still lurched. Edward Henry was forever -bending his head toward the window aperture in order to -glimpse the roofs of the buildings, and never seeing -the roofs.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now we're on Fifth," said Mr. Sachs, after a -fearful lurch, with pride.</p> -<p class="pnext">Vistas of flags, high cornices, crowded pavements, -marble, jewelry behind glass--the whole seen -through a roaring phantasmagoria of competing and -menacing vehicles!</p> -<p class="pnext">And Edward Henry thought:</p> -<p class="pnext">"This is my sort of place!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The jolting recommenced. Carlo Trent -rebounded, limply groaning, between cushions and -upholstery. Edward Henry tried to pretend that he -was not frightened. Then there was a shock as of -the concussion of two equally unyielding natures. A -pane of glass in Mr. Seven Sachs's limousine flew to -fragments and the car stopped.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I expect that's a spring gone!" observed Mr. Sachs -with tranquillity. "Will happen, you know, -sometimes!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Everybody got out. Mr. Sachs's presumption -was correct. One of the back wheels had failed to -leap over a hole in Fifth Avenue some eighteen -inches deep and two feet long.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What is that hole?" asked Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Mr. Sachs. "It's just a hole. -We'd better transfer to a taxi." He gave calm -orders to his chauffeur.</p> -<p class="pnext">Four empty taxis passed down the sunny -magnificence of Fifth Avenue and ignored Mr. Sachs's -urgent waving. The fifth stopped. The baggage -was strapped and tied to it: which process occupied -much time. Edward Henry, fuming against delay, -gazed around. A nonchalant policeman on a superb -horse occupied the middle of the road. Tram cars -passed constantly across the street in front of his -caracoling horse, dividing a route for themselves in -the wild ocean of traffic as Moses cut into the Red -Sea. At intervals a knot of persons, intimidated and -yet daring, would essay the voyage from one -pavement to the opposite pavement; there was no -half-way refuge for these adventurers, as in decrepit -London; some apparently arrived; others seemed to -disappear forever in the feverish welter of confused -motion and were never heard of again. The policeman, -easily accommodating himself to the caracolings -of his mount, gazed absently at Edward Henry, and -Edward Henry gazed first at the policeman, and -then at the high decorated grandeur of the buildings, -and then at the Assyrian taxi into which Mr. Sachs -was now ingeniously inserting Carlo Trent. He -thought:</p> -<p class="pnext">"No mistake--this street is alive. But what -cemeteries they must have!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He followed Carlo, with minute precautions, into -the interior of the taxi. And then came the -supremely delicate operation--that of introducing a -third person into the same vehicle. It was -accomplished; three chins and six knees fraternized in -close intimacy; but the door would not shut. -Wheezing, snorting, shaking, complaining, the taxi -drew slowly away from Mr. Sachs's luxurious -automobile and left it forlorn to its chauffeur. -Mr. Sachs imperturbably smiled. ("I have two other -automobiles," said Mr. Sachs.) In some sixty -seconds the taxi stopped in front of the tremendous -glass awning of the Stuyvesant. The baggage was -unstrapped; the passengers were extracted one by -one from the cell, and Edward Henry saw Mr. Sachs -give two separate dollar bills to the driver.</p> -<p class="pnext">"By Jove!" he murmured.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Sachs politely.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nothing!" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">They walked into the hotel, and passed through a -long succession of corridors and vast public rooms -surging with well-dressed men and women.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's all this crowd for?" asked Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What crowd?" asked Mr. Sachs, surprised.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry saw that he had blundered.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I prefer the upper floors," remarked Mr. Sachs -as they were being flung upward in a gilded elevator, -and passing rapidly all numbers from 1 to 14.</p> -<p class="pnext">The elevator made an end of Carlo Trent's -manhood. He collapsed. Mr. Sachs regarded him, and -then said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I think I'll get an extra room for Mr. Trent. -He ought to go to bed."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry enthusiastically concurred.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And stay there!" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">Pale Carlo Trent permitted himself to be put to -bed. But, therein, he proved fractious. He was -anxious about his linen. Mr. Sachs telephoned from -the bedside, and a laundry maid came. He was -anxious about his best lounge suit. Mr. Sachs -telephoned, and a valet came. Then he wanted a siphon -of soda water, and Mr. Sachs telephoned, and a -waiter came. Then it was a newspaper he required. -Mr. Sachs telephoned and a page came. All these -functionaries, together with two reporters, peopled -Mr. Trent's bedroom more or less simultaneously. -It was Edward Henry's bright notion to add to them -a doctor--a doctor whom Mr. Sachs knew, a doctor -who would perceive at once that bed was the only -proper place for Carlo Trent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now," said Edward Henry, when he and Mr. Sachs -were participating in a private lunch amid the -splendours and the grim silent service of the latter's -suite at the Stuyvesant, "I have fully grasped the -fact that I am in New York. It is one o'clock and -after, and as soon as ever this meal is over, I have -just <em class="italics">got</em> to find Isabel Joy. You must understand -that on this trip New York for me is merely a town -where Isabel Joy happens to be."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," replied Mr. Sachs. "I reckon I can -put you on to that. <em class="italics">She's going to be photographed -at two o'clock by Rentoul Smiles</em>. I happen -to know because Rent's a particular friend of mine."</p> -<p class="pnext">"A photographer, you say?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Sachs controlled himself. "Do you mean -to say you've not heard of Rentoul Smiles? ... Well, -he's called 'Man's photographer.' He has -never photographed a woman! Won't! At least, -wouldn't! But he's going to photograph Isabel! -So you may guess that he considers Isabel some -woman, eh?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"And how will that help me?" inquired Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why! I'll take you up to Rent's," Mr. Sachs -comforted him. "It's close by--corner of -Thirty-ninth and Fifth."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tell me," Edward Henry demanded, with immense -relief. "She hasn't got herself arrested yet, -has she?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No. And she won't."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why not?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"The police have been put wise," said Mr. Sachs.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Put wise?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes. <em class="italics">Put wise!</em>"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I see," said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">But he did not see. He only half saw.</p> -<p class="pnext">"As a matter of fact," said Mr. Sachs, "Isabel -can't get away with the goods unless she fixes the -police to lock her up for a few hours. And she'll -not succeed in that. Her hundred days are up in -London next Sunday. So there'll be no time for her -to be arrested and bailed out either at Liverpool or -Fishguard. And that's her only chance. I've seen -Isabel, and if you ask me my opinion she's down -and out."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Never mind!" said Edward Henry with glee.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I guess what you are after her for," said -Mr. Seven Sachs, with an air of deep knowledge.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The deuce you do!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, sir! And let me tell you that dozens of -'em have been after her already. But she wouldn't! -Nothing would tempt her."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Never mind!" Edward Henry smiled.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">II.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">When Edward Henry stood by the side of Mr. Sachs -in a doorway half shielded by a portière, and -gazed unseen into the great studio of Mr. Rentoul -Smiles, he comprehended that he was indeed under -powerful protection in New York. At the entrance -on Fifth Avenue he and Sachs had passed through -a small crowd of assorted men, chiefly young, whom -Sachs had greeted in the mass with the smiling -words, "Well, boys!" Other men were within. -Still another went up with them in the elevator, but -no further. They were reporters of the entire -world's press, to each of whom Isabel Joy had been -specially "assigned." They were waiting; they -would wait. Mr. Rentoul Smiles, having been -warned by telephone of the visit of his beloved -friend Seven Sachs and his English protégé had -been received at Smile's outer door by a clerk who -knew exactly what to do with them, and did it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is she here?" Mr. Sachs had murmured.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yep," the clerk had negligently replied.</p> -<p class="pnext">And now Edward Henry beheld the objective of -his pilgrimage, her whose personality, portrait, and -adventures had been filling the newspapers of two -hemispheres for three weeks. She was not realistically -like her portraits. She was a little, thin, -pale, obviously nervous woman, of any age from -thirty-five to fifty, with fair untidy hair, and pale -grey-blue eyes that showed the dreamer, the idealist, -and the harsh fanatic. She looked as though a -moderate breeze would have overthrown her, but she -also looked, to the enlightened observer, as though -she would recoil before no cruelty and no suffering -in pursuit of her vision. The blind dreaming force -behind her apparent frailty would strike terror into -the heart of any man intelligent enough to -understand it. Edward Henry had an inward shudder. -"Great Scott!" he reflected. "I shouldn't like -to be ill and have Isabel for a nurse!"</p> -<p class="pnext">And his mind at once flew to Nellie, and then to -Elsie April. "And so she's going to marry Wrissell!" -he reflected, and could scarcely believe it.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he violently wrenched his mind back to the -immediate objective. He wondered why Isabel -Joy should wear a bowler hat and mustard-coloured -jacket that resembled a sporting man's overcoat; and -why these garments suited her. With a whip in -her hand she could have sat for a jockey. And yet -she was a woman, and very feminine, and probably -old enough to be Elsie April's mother! A -disconcerting world, he thought.</p> -<p class="pnext">The "man's photographer," as he was described -in copper on Fifth Avenue and in gold on his own -doors, was a big, loosely-articulated male, who -loured over the trifle Isabel like a cloud over a -sheep in a great field. Edward Henry could only -see his broad bending back as he posed in athletic -attitudes behind the camera.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly Rentoul Smiles dashed to a switch, and -Isabel's wistful face was transformed into that of -a drowned corpse, into a dreadful harmony of greens -and purples.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now," said Rentoul Smiles, in a deep voice -that was like a rich unguent. "We'll try again. -We'll just play around that spot. Look into my eyes. -Not <em class="italics">at</em> my eyes, my dear woman, <em class="italics">into</em> them! Just -a little more challenge--a little more! That's it. -Don't wink, for the land's sake! Now!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He seized a bulb at the end of a tube and slowly -squeezed--squeezed it tragically and remorselessly, -twisting himself as if suffering in sympathy with the -bulb, and then in a wide sweeping gesture he flung -the bulb on to the top of the camera, and ejaculated:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ha!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry thought:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I would give ten pounds to see Rentoul Smiles -photograph Sir John Pilgrim." But the next -instant the forgotten sensation of hurry was upon him -once more. Quick, quick, Rentoul Smiles! Edward -Henry's scorching desire was to get done and -leave New York.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, Miss Isabel," Mr. Smiles proceeded, -exasperatingly deliberate, "d'you know, I feel kind -of guilty? I have got a little farm out in -Westchester County and I'm making a little English -pathway up the garden with a gate at the end. I woke -up this morning and began to think about the quaint -English form of that gate, and just how I would -have it." He raised a finger. "But I ought to -have been thinking about you. I ought to have -been saying to myself, 'To-day I have to -photograph Isabel Joy,' and trying to understand in -meditation the secrets of your personality. I'm sorry! -Now, don't talk. Keep like that. Move your -head round. Go on! Go on! Move it! Don't -be afraid. This place belongs to you. It's yours. -Whatever you do, we've got people here who'll -straighten up after you.... D'you know why I've -made money? I've made money so that I can take -<em class="italics">you</em> this afternoon, and tell a two-hundred-dollar -client to go to the deuce. That's why I've made -money. Put your back against the chair, like an -Englishwoman. That's it. No, don't <em class="italics">talk</em>, I tell -you. Now look joyful, hang it! Look joyful.... -No, no! Joy isn't a contortion. It's something -right deep down. There, there!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The lubricant voice rolled on while Rentoul -Smiles manipulated the camera. He clasped the -bulb again, and again threw it dramatically away.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm through!" he said. "Don't expect -anything very grand, Miss Isabel. What I've been -trying to do this afternoon is my interpretation of -you as I've studied your personality in your speeches. -If I believed wholly in your cause, or if I wholly -disbelieved in it, my work would not have been -good. Any value that it has will be due to the -sympathetic impartiality of my spiritual attitude. -Although"--he menaced her with the licenced -familiarity of a philosopher--"Although, lady, I -must say that I felt you were working against me all -the time.... This way!"</p> -<p class="pnext">(Edward Henry, recalling the comparative -simplicity of the London photographer at Wilkins's, -thought: "How profoundly they understand -photography in America!")</p> -<p class="pnext">Isabel Joy rose and glanced at the watch in her -bracelet; then followed the direction of the male -hand, and vanished.</p> -<p class="pnext">Rentoul Smiles turned instantly to the other doorway.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How do, Rent?" said Seven Sachs, coming forward.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How do, Seven?" Mr. Rentoul Smiles winked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"This is my good friend, Alderman Machin, the -theatre-manager from London."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Glad to meet you, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">"She's not gone, has she?" asked Sachs hurriedly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, my housekeeper wanted to talk to her. -Come along."</p> -<p class="pnext">And in the waiting room, full of permanent -examples of the results of Mr. Rentoul Smiles's -spiritual attitude toward his fellow men, Edward Henry -was presented to Isabel Joy. The next instant the -two men and the housekeeper had unobtrusively -retired, and he was alone with his objective. In truth -Seven Sachs was a notable organiser.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">III.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">She was sitting down in a cosy-corner, her feet -on a footstool, and she seemed a negligible physical -quantity as he stood in front of her. This was she -who had worsted the entire judicial and police -system of Chicago, who spoke pentecostal tongues, who -had circled the globe, and held enthralled--so -journalists computed--more than a quarter of a -million of the inhabitants of Marseilles, Athens, -Port Said, Candy, Calcutta, Bangkok, Hong Kong, -Tokio, Hawaii, San Francisco, Salt Lake City, -Denver, Chicago, and lastly New York! This was she!</p> -<p class="pnext">"I understand we're going home on the same -ship!" he was saying.</p> -<p class="pnext">She looked up at him, almost appealingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You won't see anything of me, though," she said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why not?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tell me," said she, not answering his question. -"What do they say of me, really, in England? I -don't mean the newspapers. For instance, -the Azure Society. Do you know of it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He nodded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tell me," she repeated.</p> -<p class="pnext">He related the episode of the telegram at the -private first performance of "The Orient Pearl."</p> -<p class="pnext">She burst out, in a torrent of irrelevant protest:</p> -<p class="pnext">"The New York police have not treated me right. -It would have cost them nothing to arrest me and -let me go. But they wouldn't. Every man in the -force--you hear me, every man--has had strict -orders to leave me unmolested. It seems they -resent my dealings with the police in Chicago, where -I brought about the dismissal of four officers, so -they say. And so I'm to be boycotted in this -manner! Is that argument, Mr. Machin? Tell me. -You're a man, but honestly, is it argument? Why, -it's just as mean and despicable as brute force."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I agree with you," said Edward Henry softly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you really think it will harm the militant -cause? Do they <em class="italics">really</em> think so? No, it will only -harm me. I made a mistake in tactics. I -trusted--fool!--to the chivalry of the United States. -I might have been arrested in a dozen cities, but -I, on purpose, reserved my last two arrests for -Chicago and New York, for the sake of the superior -advertisement, you see! I never dreamt!--Now -it's too late. I am defeated! I shall just arrive -in London on the hundredth day. I shall have made -speeches at all the meetings. But I shall be short -of one arrest. And the ten thousand pounds will -be lost to the cause. The militants here--such as -they are--are as disgusted as I am. But they -scorn me. And are they not right? Are they not -right? There should be no quarter for the vanquished."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Miss Joy," said Edward Henry, "I've come -over from England specially to see you. I want to -make up the loss of that ten thousand pounds as -far as I can. I'll explain at once. I'm running a -poetical play of the highest merit, called 'The Orient -Pearl,' at my new theatre in Piccadilly Circus. If -you will undertake a small part in it, a part of three -words only, I'll pay you a record salary--sixty-six -pounds thirteen and fourpence a word, two hundred -pounds a week!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Isabel Joy jumped up.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Are you another of them, then?" she muttered. -"I did think from the look of you that you would -know a gentlewoman when you met one! Did you -imagine for the thousandth part of one second that -I would stoop--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Stoop!" exclaimed Edward Henry. "My theatre -is not a music-hall--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You want to make it into one!" she stopped him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good-day to you," she said. "I must face -those journalists again, I suppose. Well, even -they--! I came alone in order to avoid them. But -it was hopeless. Besides, is it my duty to avoid -them--after all?"</p> -<p class="pnext">It was while passing through the door that she -uttered the last words.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Where is she?" Seven Sachs enquired, entering.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Fled!" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Everything all right?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Quite!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Rentoul Smiles came in.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mr. Smiles," said Edward Henry, "did you -ever photograph Sir John Pilgrim?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I did, on his last visit to New York. Here you are!"</p> -<p class="pnext">He pointed to his rendering of Sir John.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What did you think of him?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"A great actor, but a mountebank, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">During the remainder of the afternoon Edward -Henry saw the whole of New York, with bits of -the Bronx and Yonkers in the distance, from Seven -Sach's second automobile. In his third automobile -he went to the theatre and saw Seven Sachs act to -a house of over two thousand dollars. And lastly -he attended a supper and made a speech. But he -insisted upon passing the remainder of the night -on the <em class="italics">Lithuania</em>. In the morning Isabel Joy came -aboard early and irrevocably disappeared into her -berth. And from that moment Edward Henry -spent the whole secret force of his individuality in -fervently desiring the <em class="italics">Lithuania</em> to start. At two -o'clock, two hours late, she did start. Edward -Henry's farewells to the admirable and hospitable -Mr. Sachs were somewhat absent-minded, for -already his heart was in London. But he had sufficient -presence of mind to make certain final arrangements.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Keep him at least a week," said Edward Henry -to Seven Sachs, "and I shall be your debtor for ever -and ever."</p> -<p class="pnext">He meant Carlo Trent, still bedridden.</p> -<p class="pnext">As from the receding ship he gazed in abstraction -at the gigantic, inconvenient word--common to -three languages--which is the first thing seen by -the arriving, and the last thing seen by the -departing, visitor, he meditated:</p> -<p class="pnext">"The dearness of living in the United States -has certainly been exaggerated."</p> -<p class="pnext">For his total expenses, beyond the confines of the -quay, amounted to one cent, disbursed to buy an -evening paper which had contained a brief -interview with himself concerning the future of the -intellectual drama in England. He had told the -press-man that "The Orient Pearl" would run a hundred -nights. Save for putting "The Orient Girl" -instead of "The Orient Pearl," and two hundred -nights instead of one hundred nights, this interview -was tolerably accurate.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">IV.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Two entire interminable days of the voyage elapsed -before Edward Henry was clever enough to -encounter Isabel Joy--the most famous and the least -visible person on the ship. He remembered that -she had said: "You won't see anything of me."</p> -<p class="pnext">It was easy to ascertain the number of her -stateroom--a double-berth which she shared with -nobody. But it was less easy to find out whether she -ever left it, and if so, at what time of day. He -could not mount guard in the long corridor; and the -stewardesses on the <em class="italics">Lithuania</em> were mature, -experienced and uncommunicative women, their sole -weakness being an occasional tendency to imagine that -they, and not the captain, were in supreme charge -of the steamer. However, Edward Henry did at -last achieve his desire. And on the third morning, -at a little before six o'clock, he met a muffled Isabel -Joy on the D deck. The D deck was wet, having -just been swabbed; and a boat, chosen for that -dawn's boat drill, ascended past them on its way -from the sea level to the busy boat deck above; on -the other side of an iron barrier, large crowds of -early-rising third-class passengers were standing and -talking, and staring at the oblong slit of sea which -was the only prospect offered by the D deck; it was -the first time that Edward Henry aboard had ever -set eyes on a steerage passenger; with all the -conceit natural to the occupant of a costly stateroom, he -had unconsciously assumed that he and his like had -sole possession of the ship.</p> -<p class="pnext">Isabel responded to his greeting in a very natural -way. The sharp freshness of the summer morning -at sea had its tonic effect on both of them; and as -for Edward Henry, he lunged and plunged at once -into the subject which alone preoccupied and -exasperated him. She did not seem to resent it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd have the satisfaction of helping on a -thing that all your friends say ought to be helped," -he argued. "Nobody but you can do it. Without -you, there'll be a frost. You would make a lot of -money, which you could spend in helping on things -of your own. And surely it isn't the publicity that -you're afraid of!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," she agreed. "I'm not afraid of -publicity." Her pale grey-blue eyes shone as they -regarded the secret dream that for her hung always -unseen in the air. And she had a strange, wistful, -fragile, feminine mien in her mannish costume.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well then--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But can't you see it's humiliating?" cried she, -as if interested in the argument.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's not humiliating to do something that you -can do well--I know you can do it well--and get -a large salary for it, and make the success of a big -enterprise by it. If you knew the play--"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I do know the play," she said. "We'd lots -of us read it in manuscript long ago."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry was somewhat dashed by this information.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, what do you think of it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I think it's just splendid!" said she with enthusiasm.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And will it be any worse a play because you act -a small part in it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," she said shortly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I expect you think it's a play that people ought -to go and see, don't you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I do, Mr. Socrates," she admitted.</p> -<p class="pnext">He wondered what she could mean, but continued:</p> -<p class="pnext">"What does it matter what it is that brings the -audience into the theatre, so long as they get there -and have to listen?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She sighed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's no use discussing with you," she murmured. -"You're too simple for this world. I daresay -you're honest enough--in fact I think you are--but -there are so many things that you don't understand. -You're evidently incapable of understanding -them."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Thanks!" he replied, and paused to recover his -self-possession. "But let's get right down to -business now. If you'll appear in this play, I'll not -merely give you two hundred pounds a week, but -I'll explain to you how to get arrested and still -arrive in triumph in London before midnight on -Sunday."</p> -<p class="pnext">She recoiled a step, and raised her eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How?" she demanded, as with a pistol.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah!" he said. "That's just it. How? Will -you promise?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've thought of everything," she said musingly. -"If the last day was any day but Sunday I could -get arrested on landing and get bailed out, and still -be in London before night. But on Sunday--no! -So you needn't talk like that."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Still," he said, "it can be done."</p> -<p class="pnext">"How," she demanded again.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Will you sign a contract with me, if I tell -you? ... Think of what your reception in London will -be if you win after all! Just think!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Those pale eyes gleamed, for Isabel Joy had -tasted the noisy flattery of sympathetic and of -adverse crowds, and her being hungered for it again; -the desire of it had become part of her nature.</p> -<p class="pnext">She walked away, her hands in the pockets of her -ulster, and returned.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What is your scheme?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll sign?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, if it works."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I can trust you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The little woman of forty or so blazed up. -"You can refrain from insulting me by doubting -my word," said she.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Sorry! Sorry!" he apologised.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">V.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">That same evening, in the colossal many-tabled -dining-saloon of the <em class="italics">Lithuania</em> Edward Henry sat as -usual to the left of the purser's empty chair at the -purser's table, where were about a dozen other men. -A page brought him a marconigram. He opened -it, and read the single word "Nineteen." It was -the amount of the previous evening's receipts at the -Regent, in pounds. He was now losing something -like forty pounds a night--without counting the -expenses of the present excursion. The band began -to play as the soup was served, and the ship rolled -politely, gently, but nevertheless unmistakably, -accomplishing one complete roll to about sixteen -bars of the music. Then the entire saloon was -suddenly excited. Isabel Joy had entered. She -was in the gallery, near the orchestra, at a small -table alone. Everybody became aware of the fact -in an instant, and scores of necks on the lower floor -were twisted to glimpse the celebrity on the upper. -It was remarked that she wore a magnificent evening -dress.</p> -<p class="pnext">One subject of conversation now occupied all the -tables. And it was fully occupying the purser's table -when the purser, generally a little late, owing to the -arduousness of his situation on the ship, entered and -sat down. Now the purser was a Northerner, from -Durham, a delightful companion in his lighter -moods, but dour, and with a high conception of -authority and of the intelligence of dogs. He would -relate that when he and his wife wanted to keep a -secret from their Yorkshire terrier they had to spell -the crucial words in talk, for the dog understood -their every sentence.</p> -<p class="pnext">The purser's views about the cause represented by -Isabel Joy were absolutely clear. None could -mistake them, and the few clauses which he curtly added -to the discussion rather damped the discussion, and -there was a pause.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What should you do, Mr. Purser," said Edward -Henry, "if she began to play any of her tricks -here?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"If she began to play any of her tricks on this -ship," answered the purser, putting his hands on his -stout knees, "we should know what to do."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course you can arrest?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Most decidedly. I could tell you things--" The -purser stopped, for experience had taught him -to be very discreet with passengers until he had -voyaged with them at least ten times. He -concluded: "The captain is the representative of -English law on an English ship."</p> -<p class="pnext">And then, in the silence created by the resting -orchestra, all in the saloon could hear a clear, -piercing woman's voice, oratorical at first and then -quickening:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ladies and gentlemen: I wish to talk to you -to-night on the subject of the injustice of men to -women." Isabel Joy was on her feet and leaning -over the gallery rail. As she proceeded, a startled -hush changed to uproar. And in the uproar could -be caught now and then a detached phrase, such -as "For example, this man-governed ship."</p> -<p class="pnext">Possibly it was just this phrase that roused the -Northerner in the purser. He rose, and looked -toward the captain's table. But the captain was not -dining in the saloon that evening. Then he strode -to the centre of the saloon, beneath the renowned -dome which has been so often photographed for the -illustrated papers, and sought to destroy Isabel -Joy with a single marine glance. Having failed, -he called out loudly:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Be quiet, madam. Resume your seat."</p> -<p class="pnext">Isabel Joy stopped for a second, gave him a glance -far more homicidal than his own, and resumed her -discourse.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Steward," cried the purser, "take that woman -out of the saloon."</p> -<p class="pnext">The whole complement of first-class passengers -was now standing up, and many of them saw a plate -descend from on high, and grace the purser's -shoulder. With the celerity of a sprinter the man of -authority from Durham disappeared from the ground -floor and was immediately seen in the gallery. -Accounts differed, afterward, as to the exact order of -events; but it is certain that the leader of the band -lost his fiddle, which was broken by the lusty Isabel -on the Purser's head. It was known later that -Isabel, though not exactly in irons, was under arrest -in her stateroom.</p> -<p class="pnext">"She really ought to have thought of that for -herself, if she's as smart as she thinks she is," said -Edward Henry privately.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VI.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Though he was on the way to high success, his -anxieties and solicitudes seemed to increase every -hour. Immediately after Isabel Joy's arrest he -became more than ever a crony of the Marconi -operator, and began to despatch vivid and urgent -telegrams to London, without counting the cost. On -the next day he began to receive replies. (It was -the most interesting voyage that the Marconi -operator had had since the sinking of the <em class="italics">Catherine of -Siena</em>, in which episode his promptness through the -air had certainly saved two hundred lives.) Edward -Henry could scarcely sleep, so intense was his -longing for Sunday night--his desire to be safe in -London with Isabel Joy! Nay, he could not -properly eat! And then the doubt entered his mind -whether, after all, he would get to London on -Sunday night. For the <em class="italics">Lithuania</em> was lagging. She -might have been doing it on purpose to ruin him. -Every day, in the auction-pool on the ship's run, it -was the holder of the low field that pocketed the -money of his fellow men. The <em class="italics">Lithuania</em> actually -descended below five hundred and forty knots -in the twenty-four hours. And no authoritative -explanation of this behaviour was ever given. Upon -leaving New York there had been talk of reaching -Fishguard on Saturday evening. But now the -prophesied moment of arrival had been put forward to -noon on Sunday. Edward Henry's sole consolation -was that each day on the eastward trip consisted of -only twenty-three hours.</p> -<p class="pnext">Further, he was by no means free from apprehension -about the personal liberty of Isabel Joy. -Isabel had exceeded the programme arranged between -them. It had been no part of his scheme that she -should cast plates, nor even break violins on the -shining crown of an august purser. The purser -was angry, and he had the captain, a milder man, -behind him. When Isabel Joy threatened a hunger-strike -if she was not immediately released, the -purser signified that she might proceed with her -hunger-strike; he well knew that it would be impossible for -her to expire of inanition before the arrival at Fishguard.</p> -<p class="pnext">The case was serious, because Isabel Joy had -created a precedent. Policemen and cabinet -ministers had for many months been regarded as the -lawful prey of militants, but Isabel Joy was the first of -the militants to damage property and heads which -belonged to persons of neither of these classes. And -the authorities of the ship were assuredly inclined to -hand Isabel Joy over to the police at Fishguard. -What saved the situation for Edward Henry was the -factor which saved most situations, namely, public -opinion. When the saloon clearly realised that -Isabel Joy had done what she had done with the -pure and innocent aim of winning a wager, all that -was Anglo-Saxon in the saloon ranged itself on the -side of true sport, and the matter was lifted above -mere politics. A subscription was inaugurated to buy -a new fiddle, and to pay for shattered crockery. And -the amount collected would have purchased, after -settling for the crockery, a couple of dozen new -fiddles. The unneeded balance was given to seamen's -orphanages. The purser was approached. The -captain was implored. Influence was brought to -bear. In short--the wheels that are within -wheels went duly round. And Miss Isabel Joy, -after apologies and promises, was unconditionally released.</p> -<p class="pnext">But she had been arrested.</p> -<p class="pnext">And then, early on Sunday morning, the ship met -a storm that had a sad influence on divine service, a -storm of the eminence that scares even the -brass-buttoned occupants of liners' bridges. The rumour -went round the ship that the captain would not call -at Fishguard in such weather.</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry was ready to yield up his spirit -in this fearful crisis, which endured two hours. The -captain did call at Fishguard, in pouring rain, and -men came aboard selling Sunday newspapers that -were full of Isabel's arrest on the steamer, and of -the nearing triumph of her arrival in London -before midnight. And newspaper correspondents also -came aboard, and all the way on the tender, and in -the sheds, and in the train, Edward Henry and -Isabel Joy were subjected to the journalistic -experiments of hardy interviewers. The train arrived at -Paddington at 9 P.M. Isabel had won by three -hours. The station was a surging throng of -open-mouthed people. Edward Henry would not lose -sight of his priceless charge, but he sent Marrier to -despatch a telegram to Nellie, whose wifely interest -in his movements he had till then either forgotten or -ignored.</p> -<p class="pnext">And even now his mind was not free. He saw in -front of him still twenty-four hours of anguish.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VII.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The next night, just before the curtain went up, -he stood on the stage of the Regent Theatre, and it -is a fact that he was trembling--not with fear but -with simple excitement.</p> -<p class="pnext">Through what a day he had passed! There had -been the rehearsal in the morning; it had gone off -very well, save that Rose Euclid had behaved -impossibly, and that the Cunningham girl, the hit of -the piece but ousted from her part, had filled the -place with just lamentations and recriminations.</p> -<p class="pnext">And then had followed the appalling scene with -Rose Euclid. Rose, leaving the theatre for lunch, -had beheld the workmen removing her name from -the electric sign and substituting that of Isabel Joy. -She was a woman and an artist, and it would have -been the same had she been a man and an artist. She -would not submit to this inconceivable affront. She -had resigned her rôle. She had ripped her contract -to bits and flung the bits to the breeze. Upon the -whole Edward Henry had been glad. He had sent -for Miss Cunningham, who was Rose's understudy, -had given her instructions, called another rehearsal -for the afternoon and effected a saving of nearly -half Isabel Joy's fantastic salary. Then he entered -into financial negotiations with four evening papers -and managed to buy, at a price, their contents-bills -for the day. So that all the West End was filled -with men and boys wearing like aprons posters which -bore the words: "Isabel Joy to appear at the -Regent to-night." A great and original stroke!</p> -<p class="pnext">And now he gazed through the peep-hole of the -curtain upon a crammed and half-delirious -auditorium. The assistant stage manager ordered him -off. The curtain went up on the drama in hexameters. -He waited in the wings, and spoke soothingly -to Isabel Joy who, looking juvenile in the airy costume -of the Messenger, stood flutteringly agog for -her cue.... He heard the thunderous crashing -roar that met her entrance. He did not hear her line.</p> -<p class="pnext">He walked forth to the glazed balcony at the -front of the house, where in the entr'actes dandies -smoked cigarettes baptised with girlish names. He -could see Piccadilly Circus, and he saw Piccadilly -Circus thronged with a multitude of loafers, who -were happy in the mere spectacle of Isabel Joy's -name glowing on an electric sign. He went back -at last to the managerial room. Marrier was there, -hero-worshipping.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Got the figures yet?" he asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">Marrier beamed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Two hundred and sixty pounds. As long as -it keeps up it means a profit of getting on for two -hundred a naight!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But, dash it, man,--the house only holds two -hundred and thirty!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"But my good sir," said Marrier, "they're paying -ten shillings a-piece to stand up in the -dress-circle."</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry dropped into a chair at the desk. -A telegram was lying there, addressed to himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's this?" he demanded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Just cam."</p> -<p class="pnext">He opened it, and read: "I absolutely forbid -this monstrous outrage on a work of art. Trent."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bit late in the day, isn't he?" said Edward -Henry, showing the telegram to Marrier.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Besides," Marrier observed, "he'll come round -when he knows what his royalties are."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said Edward Henry, "I'm going to bed." And -he gave a devastating yawn.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">VIII.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">One afternoon Edward Henry sat in the king of -all the easy chairs in the drawing-room of his house -in Trafalgar Road, Bursley. Although the month -was September, and the weather warm even for -September, a swansdown quilt lay spread upon his knees. -His face was pale, his hands were paler; but his eye -was clear and his visage enlightened. His beard -had grown to nearly its original dimensions. On -a chair by his side were a number of letters to -which he had just dictated answers. At a -neighbouring table a young clerk was using a typewriter. -Stretched at full length on the sofa was Robert -Machin, engaged in the perusal of the second -edition of that day's <em class="italics">Signal</em>. Of late Robert, -having exhausted nearly all available books, had been -cultivating during his holidays an interest in -journalism, and he would give great accounts, in the -nursery, of events happening in each day's instalment -of the <em class="italics">Signal's</em> sensational serial. His heels -kicked idly one against the other.</p> -<p class="pnext">A powerful voice resounded in the lobby, and -Doctor Stirling entered the room with Nellie.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, Doc!" Edward Henry greeted him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"So you're in full blast again!" observed the -doctor, using a metaphor invented by the population -of a district where the roar of furnaces wakens the -night.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No!" Edward Henry protested, as an invalid -always will. "I'm only just keeping an eye on one -or two pressing things."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course he's in full blast!" said Nellie with -calm conviction.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What's this I hear about ye ganging away to the -seaside, Saturday?" asked the doctor.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, can't I?" said Edward Henry.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye can," said the doctor. "Let's have a look -at ye, man."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What was it you said I've had?" Edward -Henry questioned.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Colonitis."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, that's the word. I thought I couldn't have -got it wrong. Well, you should have seen my -mother's face when I told her what you called it. -She said, 'He may call it that if he's a mind to, but -we had another name for it in my time.' You -should have heard her sniff! ... Look here, Doc, -do you know you've had me down now for pretty -near three months?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay," said Stirling. "It's yer own obstinacy -that's had ye down, man. If ye'd listened to yer -London doctor at first, mayhap ye wouldn't have had -to travel from Euston in an invalid's carriage. If -ye hadn't had the misfortune to be born an obstinate -simpleton ye'd ha' been up and about six weeks back. -But there's no doing anything with you geniuses. -It's all nerves with you and your like."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nerves!" exclaimed Edward Henry, pretending -to scorn. But he was delighted at the diagnosis.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nerves," repeated the doctor firmly. "Ye go -gadding off to America. Ye get yeself mixed up in -theatres.... How's the theatre? I see yer -famous play's coming to end next week."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what if it is?" said Edward Henry, jealous -for reputations, including his own. "It will have -run for a hundred and one nights. And right -through August, too! No modern poetry play ever -did run as long in London, and no other ever will. -I've given the intellectual theatre the biggest ad. it -ever had. And I've made money on it. I should -have made more if I'd ended the run a fortnight ago, -but I was determined to pass the hundredth night. -And I shall do!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what are ye for giving next?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm not for giving anything next, Doc. I've let -the Regent for five years at seven thousand five -hundred pounds a year to a musical comedy syndicate, -since you're so curious. And when I've paid the -ground rent and taxes and repairs and something -toward a sinking-fund, and six per cent. on my capital -I shall have not far off two thousand pounds a year -clear annual profit. You may say what you like, but -that's what I call business!"</p> -<p class="pnext">It was a remarkable fact that, while giving -undemanded information to Doctor Stirling, Edward -Henry was in reality defending himself against the -accusations of his wife--accusations which, by the -way, she had never uttered, but which he thought he -read sometimes in her face. He might of course -have told his wife these agreeable details directly, -and in private. But he was a husband, and, like -many husbands, apt to be indirect.</p> -<p class="pnext">Nellie said not a word.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then you're giving up London?" The doctor -rose to depart.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am," said Edward Henry, almost blushing.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," the genius answered. "Those theatrical -things are altogether too exciting and risky! -And they're such queer people--Great Scott! -I've come out on the right side, as it happens, -but--well, I'm not as young as I was. I've done with -London. The Five Towns are good enough for me."</p> -<p class="pnext">Nellie, unable to restrain a note of triumph, -indiscreetly remarked with just the air of superior -sagacity that in a wife drives husbands to fury and to -foolishness:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I should think so, indeed!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Edward Henry leaped from his chair, and the -swansdown quilt swathed his slippered feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nell," he exploded, clenching his hand. "If -you say that once more in that tone--once more, -mind!--I'll go and take a flat in London to-morrow!"</p> -<p class="pnext">The doctor crackled with laughter. Nellie -smiled. Even Robert, who had completely ignored -the doctor's entrance, glanced round with creased -brows.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Sit down, dearest," Nellie quietly enjoined the -invalid.</p> -<p class="pnext">But he would not sit down, and, to show his -independence, he helped his wife to escort Stirling into -the lobby.</p> -<p class="pnext">Robert, now alone with the ignored young clerk -tapping at the table, turned toward him, and in his -deliberate, judicial, disdainful, childish voice said to -him:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Isn't Father a funny man?"</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">THE END</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst x-large">THE NOVELS OF ARNOLD BENNETT</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">THE OLD WIVES' TALE: A Novel of Life.</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">A New Edition with Special Preface by Arnold Bennett.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $1.50 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">The greatest of Arnold Bennett's writings has now crossed -the Rubicon of merely transient popularity and bids fair to become -a classic. It recounts from early girlhood to old age the lives of -two sisters, the exact opposites to one another in temperament. -Though its spacious canvas teems with incidents and characters, -all the interest concentrates on these two women; the world revolves -about them. It is a story of reality; a record extraordinarily faithful -of the infinite number of infinitesimal changes which steal away -youth with increasing years.</p> -<p class="pnext">The book is of heroic proportions. Here all the emotions of -a life-time are met together on one stage. It is real as life, and large -as destiny.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">BURIED ALIVE:</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">A Tale of These Days</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $1.20 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">Also in Popular Edition, $0.50 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">A romantic comedy--a surprise from start to finish, brilliant -in its plot, and audaciously carried out--it is the kind of book that -restores adventure to life and sends the reader on his way in high -spirits.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">A GREAT MAN:</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">A Comedy of Success.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $1.20 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">Here is a comparative study of the great and the merely -successful--a gentle satire on contemporary popular methods of -judging human worth. At the start THE GREAT MAN knows quite -well that he is not great. Later, confused by the clamor of applause, -he deceives himself.</p> -<p class="pnext">The story develops the rise of a modern writer--the get-famous-quick -author who suddenly finds himself a "best-seller."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">HELEN WITH THE HIGH HAND:</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">An Idyllic Diversion.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $1.20 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">In the lightest comedy vein, Arnold Bennett treats of a serious -economic situation--the invasion of the grim Five Towns by modernity. -Helen typifies the splendid revolt of youth against the accepted -and conventional. Of all Arnold Bennett's heroines Helen is -certainly the daintiest and most fascinating.</p> -<p class="pnext">The final touch of comedy arises from the fact that Helen at -length overcomes her uncle, not by anything modern in her -temperament, but by the old-fangled race shrewdness which she has -inherited. She defeats him by the more skilful handling of his own -weapons.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">LEONORA:</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">The Story of a Middle-Aged Love Affair.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $1.20 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">The soul-problems of a woman of forty: another novel of the -Five Towns.</p> -<p class="pnext">This is one of the most human of all Arnold Bennett's novels. -It grapples with a real problem and works out the solution as in life. -There are no heroics; no false elations and no false tragedies. -LEONORA is a statement of truth, seasoned with humor.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">THE MATADOR OF THE FIVE TOWNS</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">And Other Stories.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $1.20 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">Written in Arnold Bennett's most brilliant manner, each story -is a complete and perfect study of some family group or separate -phase of Five Towns life. Never was he more witty, more -penetrating, more sure in his shrewd delineation of homespun domestic -characters.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS:</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">A Young Girl's Love-Story.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $1.20 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">This is a love-story with a twist in it, such as Bennett knows -so well how to handle. The twist consists in the coming to Anna -of unexpected wealth. She is the daughter of a miser and has been -brought up under the most rigorous parsimony. She has a simple -lover, in every way suited to her narrow circumstances. Then she -comes of age and discovers that she is not only well off, but wealthy. -What will she do with her money? Will her altered status interfere -with her love affair? Will her father's blood tell? In a vein of -quiet humor, rich in whimsical character-sketching, Arnold Bennett -works these problems out.</p> -<p class="pnext">Anna is another of the inhabitants of the Five Towns. The -little group of friends who gather about her make us familiar -with another level of Five Towns' society.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">THE BOOK OF CARLOTTA:</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">The Autobiography of a Woman's Heart.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $1.20 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">THE BOOK OF CARLOTTA presents the woman of genius--who -belongs neither to the middle-class nor to any other class, -but simply to her genius, and to the passions of her own heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">The book is a woman's soul confession written in the first -person. In sheer audacity of purpose it outstrips all Arnold Bennett's -other novels with the exception of THE OLD WIVES' TALE. -In the first place, it is an intimate record of a woman's secret -psychology; in the second, the woman is a woman of genius, which -necessitates a continual flow of brilliancy -on the author's part; in the third, -it is a novel written in the French manner by an Englishman.</p> -<p class="pnext">Carlotta is an extraordinary creation--a woman apart. She -stands among the rebels of fiction and biography--the people who -have dared to be what they are. The motive of her whole life is -self-fulfillment as she knows it, even though this means the defiance -of laws.</p> -<p class="pnext">Everything contributes to the last great climax entitled <em class="italics">Victory</em>.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst x-large">ARNOLD BENNETT: POCKET PHILOSOPHIES</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">HOW TO LIVE ON TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY:</p> -<p class="pnext">A Study in Time Expenditure.</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">On the Conservation of Time.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $0.50 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">In a series of delightfully personal essays Arnold Bennett -discusses the problem of how to attain happiness through living the -intenser life.</p> -<p class="pnext">When he deliberately assumes the role of philosopher and -friend, his wise and tolerant teachings come to us vivid with his -strenuous personality. In the essay medium his strange faculty -for combining wisdom with humor works unfettered.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">MENTAL EFFICIENCY:</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">On the Conservation of the Mind.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $0.75 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">Everybody desires to be efficient. But nearly everybody -mistakenly supposes that this is a natural characteristic. That it is not, -Mr. Bennett shows in his "Mental Efficiency." It is the product -of concentration which in turn is the product of will-power. But -will-power can be developed by concentration and Mr. Bennett -shows us how to do it.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">THE HUMAN MACHINE:</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">On the Conservation of Energy.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $0.75 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">With fine inspiring optimism, amid flashes of wit and gusts of -laughter, Arnold Bennett declares to everyone how he may make -the best of himself.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large pfirst">LITERARY TASTE: How to Form It.</p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">On the Conservation of Pleasure.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">Price $0.75 Net</p> -<p class="pnext">It is Arnold Bennett's conviction that life ought to be for everybody -an affair of joy. For him literature has proved the royal road -to happiness: he is eager to point the way.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY, Publishers</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">BY ARNOLD BENNETT</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">NOVELS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="left pfirst white-space-pre-line">The Old Wives' Tale<br /> -Helen with the High Hand<br /> -The Matador of the Five Towns<br /> -The Book of Carlotta<br /> -Buried Alive<br /> -A Great Man<br /> -Leonora<br /> -Whom God Hath Joined<br /> -A Man from the North<br /> -Anna of the Five Towns<br /> -The Glimpse</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">POCKET PHILOSOPHIES</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="left pfirst white-space-pre-line">How to Live on 24 Hours A Day<br /> -The Human Machine<br /> -Literary Taste<br /> -Mental Efficiency</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">PLAYS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="left pfirst white-space-pre-line">Cupid and Commonsense<br /> -What the Public Wants<br /> -Polite Farces<br /> -Milestones<br /> -The Honeymoon</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="large left pfirst">MISCELLANEOUS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="left pfirst white-space-pre-line">The Truth About an Author<br /> -The Feast of St. Friend</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY<br /> -NEW YORK</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line">*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>THE OLD ADAM</span> ***</p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">A Word from Project Gutenberg</h2> -<p class="pfirst">We will update this book if we find any errors.</p> -<p class="pnext">This book can be found under: <a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40168"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40168</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext">Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set -forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to -protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge -for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not -charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is -very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as -creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. -They may be modified and printed and given away – you may do -practically <em class="italics">anything</em> with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution.</p> -<div class="level-3 section" id="the-full-project-gutenberg-license"> -<span id="project-gutenberg-license"></span><h3 class="level-3 pfirst section-title title">The Full Project Gutenberg License</h3> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">Please read this before you distribute or use this work.</em></p> -<p class="pnext">To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -<a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a>.</p> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-1-general-terms-of-use-redistributing-project-gutenberg-electronic-works"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title">Section 1. General Terms of Use & Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works</h4> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.A.</strong> By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by -the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.B.</strong> “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.C.</strong> The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the United -States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a -right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free -access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works -in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project -Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with -the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format -with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it -without charge with others.</p> -<p class="pnext"></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.D.</strong> The copyright laws of the place where you are located also -govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most -countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the -United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms -of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.</strong> Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.1.</strong> The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst">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 <a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a></p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.E.2.</strong> If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating -that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work -can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without -paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing -access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with -or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements -of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of -the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in -paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.3.</strong> If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and -distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and -any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted -with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of -this work.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.4.</strong> Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project -Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a -part of this work or any other work associated with Project -Gutenberg™.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.5.</strong> Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute -this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.6.</strong> You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other -than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ web site -(<a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a>), you must, at no additional cost, fee or -expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a -means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original -“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include -the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.7.</strong> Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.E.8.</strong> You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided -that</p> -<ul class="open"> -<li><p class="first pfirst">You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from -the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you -already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to -the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to -donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 -days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally -required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments -should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, -“Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation.”</p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst">You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies -you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he -does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ -License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all -copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue -all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ -works.</p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst">You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of -any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the -electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of -receipt of the work.</p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst">You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free -distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.</p> -</li> -</ul> -<p class="pfirst"><strong class="bold">1.E.9.</strong> If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and -Michael Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact -the Foundation as set forth in Section 3. below.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.</strong></p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.1.</strong> Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend -considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe -and proofread public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg™ -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.2.</strong> LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES – Except for the -“Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the -Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.3.</strong> LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND – If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.4.</strong> Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set -forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS,’ WITH -NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.5.</strong> Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions.</p> -<p class="pnext"><strong class="bold">1.F.6.</strong> INDEMNITY – You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, -the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause.</p> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-2-information-about-the-mission-of-project-gutenberg"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title">Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™</h4> -<p class="pfirst">Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life.</p> -<p class="pnext">Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™'s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain -freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To -learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and -how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the -Foundation web page at <a class="reference external" href="http://www.pglaf.org">http://www.pglaf.org</a> .</p> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-3-information-about-the-project-gutenberg-literary-archive-foundation"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title">Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</h4> -<p class="pfirst">The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -<a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf</a> . Contributions to the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to -the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.</p> -<p class="pnext">The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. -S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are -scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is -located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) -596-1887, email <a class="reference external" href="mailto:business@pglaf.org">business@pglaf.org</a>. Email contact links and up to date -contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at <a class="reference external" href="http://www.pglaf.org">http://www.pglaf.org</a></p> -<p class="pnext">For additional contact information:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Dr. Gregory B. Newby</div> -<div class="line">Chief Executive and Director</div> -<div class="line"><a class="reference external" href="mailto:gbnewby@pglaf.org">gbnewby@pglaf.org</a></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-4-information-about-donations-to-the-project-gutenberg-literary-archive-foundation"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title">Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</h4> -<p class="pfirst">Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without wide spread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing -the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely -distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest array of -equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to -$5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status -with the IRS.</p> -<p class="pnext">The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit <a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p> -<p class="pnext">While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate.</p> -<p class="pnext">International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.</p> -<p class="pnext">Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: <a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p> -</div> -<div class="level-4 section" id="section-5-general-information-about-project-gutenberg-electronic-works"> -<h4 class="level-4 pfirst section-title title">Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works.</h4> -<p class="pfirst">Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.</p> -<p class="pnext">Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the -U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition.</p> -<p class="pnext">Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's -eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, -compressed (zipped), HTML and others.</p> -<p class="pnext">Corrected <em class="italics">editions</em> of our eBooks replace the old file and take over -the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is -renamed. <em class="italics">Versions</em> based on separate sources are treated as new -eBooks receiving new filenames and etext numbers.</p> -<p class="pnext">Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a></p> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including -how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe -to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.</p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</body> -</html> |