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diff --git a/4903-h/4903-h.htm b/4903-h/4903-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..158c898 --- /dev/null +++ b/4903-h/4903-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11805 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Hilda Wade, by Grant Allen + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hilda Wade, by Grant Allen + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hilda Wade + A Woman With Tenacity Of Purpose + +Author: Grant Allen + +Release Date: June 6, 2006 [EBook #4903] +Last Updated: March 12, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILDA WADE *** + + + + +Produced by Don Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + HILDA WADE + </h1> + <h2> + A WOMAN WITH TENACITY OF PURPOSE <br /> <br /> By Grant Allen <br /> <br /> + 1899 + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> PUBLISHERS' NOTE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>HILDA WADE</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + PUBLISHERS' NOTE + </h2> + <p> + In putting before the public the last work by Mr. Grant Allen, the + publishers desire to express their deep regret at the author's unexpected + and lamented death—a regret in which they are sure to be joined by + the many thousand readers whom he did so much to entertain. A man of + curiously varied and comprehensive knowledge, and with the most charming + personality; a writer who, treating of a wide variety of subjects, touched + nothing which he did not make distinctive, he filled a place which no man + living can exactly occupy. The last chapter of this volume had been + roughly sketched by Mr. Allen before his final illness, and his anxiety, + when debarred from work, to see it finished, was relieved by the + considerate kindness of his friend and neighbour, Dr. Conan Doyle, who, + hearing of his trouble, talked it over with him, gathered his ideas, and + finally wrote it out for him in the form in which it now appears—a + beautiful and pathetic act of friendship which it is a pleasure to record. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + HILDA WADE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE PATIENT WHO DISAPPOINTED HER DOCTOR + </h3> + <p> + Hilda Wade's gift was so unique, so extraordinary, that I must illustrate + it, I think, before I attempt to describe it. But first let me say a word + of explanation about the Master. + </p> + <p> + I have never met anyone who impressed me so much with a sense of GREATNESS + as Professor Sebastian. And this was not due to his scientific eminence + alone: the man's strength and keenness struck me quite as forcibly as his + vast attainments. When he first came to St. Nathaniel's Hospital, an + eager, fiery-eyed physiologist, well past the prime of life, and began to + preach with all the electric force of his vivid personality that the one + thing on earth worth a young man's doing was to work in his laboratory, + attend his lectures, study disease, and be a scientific doctor, dozens of + us were infected by his contagious enthusiasm. He proclaimed the gospel of + germs; and the germ of his own zeal flew abroad in the hospital: it ran + through the wards as if it were typhoid fever. Within a few months, half + the students were converted from lukewarm observers of medical routine + into flaming apostles of the new methods. + </p> + <p> + The greatest authority in Europe on comparative anatomy, now that Huxley + was taken from us, he had devoted his later days to the pursuit of + medicine proper, to which he brought a mind stored with luminous analogies + from the lower animals. His very appearance held one. Tall, thin, erect, + with an ascetic profile not unlike Cardinal Manning's, he represented that + abstract form of asceticism which consists in absolute self-sacrifice to a + mental ideas, not that which consists in religious abnegation. Three years + of travel in Africa had tanned his skin for life. His long white hair, + straight and silvery as it fell, just curled in one wave-like inward sweep + where it turned and rested on the stooping shoulders. His pale face was + clean-shaven, save for a thin and wiry grizzled moustache, which cast into + stronger relief the deep-set, hawk-like eyes and the acute, intense, + intellectual features. In some respects, his countenance reminded me often + of Dr. Martineau's: in others it recalled the knife-like edge, unturnable, + of his great predecessor, Professor Owen. Wherever he went, men turned to + stare at him. In Paris, they took him for the head of the English + Socialists; in Russia, they declared he was a Nihilist emissary. And they + were not far wrong—in essence; for Sebastian's stern, sharp face was + above all things the face of a man absorbed and engrossed by one + overpowering pursuit in life—the sacred thirst of knowledge, which + had swallowed up his entire nature. + </p> + <p> + He WAS what he looked—the most single-minded person I have ever come + across. And when I say single-minded, I mean just that, and no more. He + had an End to attain—the advancement of science, and he went + straight towards the End, looking neither to the right nor to the left for + anyone. An American millionaire once remarked to him of some ingenious + appliance he was describing: “Why, if you were to perfect that apparatus, + Professor, and take out a patent for it, I reckon you'd make as much money + as I have made.” Sebastian withered him with a glance. “I have no time to + waste,” he replied, “on making money!” + </p> + <p> + So, when Hilda Wade told me, on the first day I met her, that she wished + to become a nurse at Nathaniel's, “to be near Sebastian,” I was not at all + astonished. I took her at her word. Everybody who meant business in any + branch of the medical art, however humble, desired to be close to our rare + teacher—to drink in his large thought, to profit by his clear + insight, his wide experience. The man of Nathaniel's was revolutionising + practice; and those who wished to feel themselves abreast of the modern + movement were naturally anxious to cast in their lot with him. I did not + wonder, therefore, that Hilda Wade, who herself possessed in so large a + measure the deepest feminine gift—intuition—should seek a + place under the famous professor who represented the other side of the + same endowment in its masculine embodiment—instinct of diagnosis. + </p> + <p> + Hilda Wade herself I will not formally introduce to you: you will learn to + know her as I proceed with my story. + </p> + <p> + I was Sebastian's assistant, and my recommendation soon procured Hilda + Wade the post she so strangely coveted. Before she had been long at + Nathaniel's, however, it began to dawn upon me that her reasons for + desiring to attend upon our revered Master were not wholly and solely + scientific. Sebastian, it is true, recognised her value as a nurse from + the first; he not only allowed that she was a good assistant, but he also + admitted that her subtle knowledge of temperament sometimes enabled her + closely to approach his own reasoned scientific analysis of a case and its + probable development. “Most women,” he said to me once, “are quick at + reading THE PASSING EMOTION. They can judge with astounding correctness + from a shadow on one's face, a catch in one's breath, a movement of one's + hands, how their words or deeds are affecting us. We cannot conceal our + feelings from them. But underlying character they do not judge so well as + fleeting expression. Not what Mrs. Jones IS in herself, but what Mrs. + Jones is now thinking and feeling—there lies their great success as + psychologists. Most men, on the contrary, guide their life by definite + FACTS—by signs, by symptoms, by observed data. Medicine itself is + built upon a collection of such reasoned facts. But this woman, Nurse + Wade, to a certain extent, stands intermediate mentally between the two + sexes. She recognises TEMPERAMENT—the fixed form of character, and + what it is likely to do—in a degree which I have never seen equalled + elsewhere. To that extent, and within proper limits of supervision, I + acknowledge her faculty as a valuable adjunct to a scientific + practitioner.” + </p> + <p> + Still, though Sebastian started with a predisposition in favour of Hilda + Wade—a pretty girl appeals to most of us—I could see from the + beginning that Hilda Wade was by no means enthusiastic for Sebastian, like + the rest of the hospital: + </p> + <p> + “He is extraordinarily able,” she would say, when I gushed to her about + our Master; but that was the most I could ever extort from her in the way + of praise. Though she admitted intellectually Sebastian's gigantic mind, + she would never commit herself to anything that sounded like personal + admiration. To call him “the prince of physiologists” did not satisfy me + on that head. I wanted her to exclaim, “I adore him! I worship him! He is + glorious, wonderful!” + </p> + <p> + I was also aware from an early date that, in an unobtrusive way, Hilda + Wade was watching Sebastian, watching him quietly, with those wistful, + earnest eyes, as a cat watches a mouse-hole; watching him with mute + inquiry, as if she expected each moment to see him do something different + from what the rest of us expected of him. Slowly I gathered that Hilda + Wade, in the most literal sense, had come to Nathaniel's, as she herself + expressed it, “to be near Sebastian.” + </p> + <p> + Gentle and lovable as she was in every other aspect, towards Sebastian she + seemed like a lynx-eyed detective. She had some object in view, I thought, + almost as abstract as his own—some object to which, as I judged, she + was devoting her life quite as single-mindedly as Sebastian himself had + devoted his to the advancement of science. + </p> + <p> + “Why did she become a nurse at all?” I asked once of her friend, Mrs. + Mallet. “She has plenty of money, and seems well enough off to live + without working.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, yes,” Mrs. Mallet answered. “She is independent, quite; has a + tidy little income of her own—six or seven hundred a year—and + she could choose her own society. But she went in for this mission fad + early; she didn't intend to marry, she said; so she would like to have + some work to do in life. Girls suffer like that, nowadays. In her case, + the malady took the form of nursing.” + </p> + <p> + “As a rule,” I ventured to interpose, “when a pretty girl says she doesn't + intend to marry, her remark is premature. It only means—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know. Every girl says it; 'tis a stock property in the popular + masque of Maiden Modesty. But with Hilda it is different. And the + difference is—that Hilda means it!” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” I answered. “I believe she means it. Yet I know one man + at least—” for I admired her immensely. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallet shook her head and smiled. “It is no use, Dr. Cumberledge,” + she answered. “Hilda will never marry. Never, that is to say, till she has + attained some mysterious object she seems to have in view, about which she + never speaks to anyone—not even to me. But I have somehow guessed + it!” + </p> + <p> + “And it is?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have not guessed what it IS: I am no Oedipus. I have merely guessed + that it exists. But whatever it may be, Hilda's life is bounded by it. She + became a nurse to carry it out, I feel confident. From the very beginning, + I gather, a part of her scheme was to go to St. Nathaniel's. She was + always bothering us to give her introductions to Dr. Sebastian; and when + she met you at my brother Hugo's, it was a preconcerted arrangement; she + asked to sit next you, and meant to induce you to use your influence on + her behalf with the Professor. She was dying to get there.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very odd,” I mused. “But there!—women are inexplicable!” + </p> + <p> + “And Hilda is in that matter the very quintessence of woman. Even I, who + have known her for years, don't pretend to understand her.” + </p> + <p> + A few months later, Sebastian began his great researches on his new + anaesthetic. It was a wonderful set of researches. It promised so well. + All Nat's (as we familiarly and affectionately styled St. Nathaniel's) was + in a fever of excitement over the drug for a twelvemonth. + </p> + <p> + The Professor obtained his first hint of the new body by a mere accident. + His friend, the Deputy Prosector of the Zoological Society, had mixed a + draught for a sick raccoon at the Gardens, and, by some mistake in a + bottle, had mixed it wrongly. (I purposely refrain from mentioning the + ingredients, as they are drugs which can be easily obtained in isolation + at any chemist's, though when compounded they form one of the most + dangerous and difficult to detect of organic poisons. I do not desire to + play into the hands of would-be criminals.) The compound on which the + Deputy Prosector had thus accidentally lighted sent the raccoon to sleep + in the most extraordinary manner. Indeed, the raccoon slept for thirty-six + hours on end, all attempts to awake him, by pulling his tail or tweaking + his hair being quite unavailing. This was a novelty in narcotics; so + Sebastian was asked to come and look at the slumbering brute. He suggested + the attempt to perform an operation on the somnolent raccoon by removing, + under the influence of the drug, an internal growth, which was considered + the probable cause of his illness. A surgeon was called in, the growth was + found and removed, and the raccoon, to everybody's surprise, continued to + slumber peacefully on his straw for five hours afterwards. At the end of + that time he awoke, and stretched himself as if nothing had happened; and + though he was, of course, very weak from loss of blood, he immediately + displayed a most royal hunger. He ate up all the maize that was offered + him for breakfast, and proceeded to manifest a desire for more by most + unequivocal symptoms. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian was overjoyed. He now felt sure he had discovered a drug which + would supersede chloroform—a drug more lasting in its immediate + effects, and yet far less harmful in its ultimate results on the balance + of the system. A name being wanted for it, he christened it “lethodyne.” + It was the best pain-luller yet invented. + </p> + <p> + For the next few weeks, at Nat's, we heard of nothing but lethodyne. + Patients recovered and patients died; but their deaths or recoveries were + as dross to lethodyne, an anaesthetic that might revolutionise surgery, + and even medicine! A royal road through disease, with no trouble to the + doctor and no pain to the patient! Lethodyne held the field. We were all + of us, for the moment, intoxicated with lethodyne. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian's observations on the new agent occupied several months. He had + begun with the raccoon; he went on, of course, with those poor scapegoats + of physiology, domestic rabbits. Not that in this particular case any + painful experiments were in contemplation. The Professor tried the drug on + a dozen or more quite healthy young animals—with the strange result + that they dozed off quietly, and never woke up again. This nonplussed + Sebastian. He experimented once more on another raccoon, with a smaller + dose; the raccoon fell asleep, and slept like a top for fifteen hours, at + the end of which time he woke up as if nothing out of the common had + happened. Sebastian fell back upon rabbits again, with smaller and smaller + doses. It was no good; the rabbits all died with great unanimity, until + the dose was so diminished that it did not send them off to sleep at all. + There was no middle course, apparently, to the rabbit kind, lethodyne was + either fatal or else inoperative. So it proved to sheep. The new drug + killed, or did nothing. + </p> + <p> + I will not trouble you with all the details of Sebastian's further + researches; the curious will find them discussed at length in Volume 237 + of the Philosophical Transactions. (See also Comptes Rendus de l'Academie + de Medecine: tome 49, pp. 72 and sequel.) I will restrict myself here to + that part of the inquiry which immediately refers to Hilda Wade's history. + </p> + <p> + “If I were you,” she said to the Professor one morning, when he was most + astonished at his contradictory results, “I would test it on a hawk. If I + dare venture on a suggestion, I believe you will find that hawks recover.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce they do!” Sebastian cried. However, he had such confidence in + Nurse Wade's judgment that he bought a couple of hawks and tried the + treatment on them. Both birds took considerable doses, and, after a period + of insensibility extending to several hours, woke up in the end quite + bright and lively. + </p> + <p> + “I see your principle,” the Professor broke out. “It depends upon diet. + Carnivores and birds of prey can take lethodyne with impunity; herbivores + and fruit-eaters cannot recover, and die of it. Man, therefore, being + partly carnivorous, will doubtless be able more or less to stand it.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda Wade smiled her sphinx-like smile. “Not quite that, I fancy,” she + answered. “It will kill cats, I feel sure; at least, most domesticated + ones. But it will NOT kill weasels. Yet both are carnivores.” + </p> + <p> + “That young woman knows too much!” Sebastian muttered to me, looking after + her as she glided noiselessly with her gentle tread down the long white + corridor. “We shall have to suppress her, Cumberledge.... But I'll wager + my life she's right, for all that. I wonder, now, how the dickens she + guessed it!” + </p> + <p> + “Intuition,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + He pouted his under lip above the upper one, with a dubious acquiescence. + “Inference, I call it,” he retorted. “All woman's so-called intuition is, + in fact, just rapid and half-unconscious inference.” + </p> + <p> + He was so full of the subject, however, and so utterly carried away by his + scientific ardour, that I regret to say he gave a strong dose of lethodyne + at once to each of the matron's petted and pampered Persian cats, which + lounged about her room and were the delight of the convalescents. They + were two peculiarly lazy sultanas of cats—mere jewels of the harem—Oriental + beauties that loved to bask in the sun or curl themselves up on the rug + before the fire and dawdle away their lives in congenial idleness. Strange + to say, Hilda's prophecy came true. Zuleika settled herself down + comfortably in the Professor's easy chair and fell into a sound sleep from + which there was no awaking; while Roxana met fate on the tiger-skin she + loved, coiled up in a circle, and passed from this life of dreams, without + knowing it, into one where dreaming is not. Sebastian noted the facts with + a quiet gleam of satisfaction in his watchful eye, and explained + afterwards, with curt glibness to the angry matron, that her favourites + had been “canonised in the roll of science, as painless martyrs to the + advancement of physiology.” + </p> + <p> + The weasels, on the other hand, with an equal dose, woke up after six + hours as lively as crickets. It was clear that carnivorous tastes were not + the whole solution, for Roxana was famed as a notable mouser. + </p> + <p> + “Your principle?” Sebastian asked our sibyl, in his brief, quick way. + </p> + <p> + Hilda's cheek wore a glow of pardonable triumph. The great teacher had + deigned to ask her assistance. “I judged by the analogy of Indian hemp,” + she answered. “This is clearly a similar, but much stronger, narcotic. + Now, whenever I have given Indian hemp by your direction to people of + sluggish, or even of merely bustling temperament, I have noticed that + small doses produce serious effects, and that the after-results are most + undesirable. But when you have prescribed the hemp for nervous, + overstrung, imaginative people, I have observed that they can stand large + amounts of the tincture without evil results, and that the after-effects + pass off rapidly. I who am mercurial in temperament, for example, can take + any amount of Indian hemp without being made ill by it; while ten drops + will send some slow and torpid rustics mad drunk with excitement—drive + them into homicidal mania.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian nodded his head. He needed no more explanation. “You have hit + it,” he said. “I see it at a glance. The old antithesis! All men and all + animals fall, roughly speaking, into two great divisions of type: the + impassioned and the unimpassioned; the vivid and the phlegmatic. I catch + your drift now. Lethodyne is poison to phlegmatic patients, who have not + active power enough to wake up from it unhurt; it is relatively harmless + to the vivid and impassioned, who can be put asleep by it, indeed, for a + few hours more or less, but are alive enough to live on through the coma + and reassert their vitality after it.” + </p> + <p> + I recognised as he spoke that this explanation was correct. The dull + rabbits, the sleepy Persian cats, and the silly sheep had died outright of + lethodyne; the cunning, inquisitive raccoon, the quick hawk, and the + active, intense-natured weasels, all most eager, wary, and alert animals, + full of keenness and passion, had recovered quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Dare we try it on a human subject?” I asked, tentatively. + </p> + <p> + Hilda Wade answered at once, with that unerring rapidity of hers: “Yes, + certainly; on a few—the right persons. <i>I</i>, for one, am not + afraid to try it.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” I cried, feeling suddenly aware how much I thought of her. “Oh, not + YOU, please, Nurse Wade. Some other life, less valuable!” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian stared at me coldly. “Nurse Wade volunteers,” he said. “It is in + the cause of science. Who dares dissuade her? That tooth of yours? Ah, + yes. Quite sufficient excuse. You wanted it out, Nurse Wade. Wells-Dinton + shall operate.” + </p> + <p> + Without a moment's hesitation, Hilda Wade sat down in an easy chair and + took a measured dose of the new anaesthetic, proportioned to the average + difference in weight between raccoons and humanity. My face displayed my + anxiety, I suppose, for she turned to me, smiling with quiet confidence. + “I know my own constitution,” she said, with a reassuring glance that went + straight to my heart. “I do not in the least fear.” + </p> + <p> + As for Sebastian, he administered the drug to her as unconcernedly as if + she were a rabbit. Sebastian's scientific coolness and calmness have long + been the admiration of younger practitioners. + </p> + <p> + Wells-Dinton gave one wrench. The tooth came out as though the patient + were a block of marble. There was not a cry or a movement, such as one + notes when nitrous oxide is administered. Hilda Wade was to all appearance + a mass of lifeless flesh. We stood round and watched. I was trembling with + terror. Even on Sebastian's pale face, usually so unmoved, save by the + watchful eagerness of scientific curiosity, I saw signs of anxiety. + </p> + <p> + After four hours of profound slumber—breath hovering, as it seemed, + between life and death—she began to come to again. In half an hour + more she was wide awake; she opened her eyes and asked for a glass of + hock, with beef essence or oysters. + </p> + <p> + That evening, by six o'clock, she was quite well and able to go about her + duties as usual. + </p> + <p> + “Sebastian is a wonderful man,” I said to her, as I entered her ward on my + rounds at night. “His coolness astonishes me. Do you know, he watched you + all the time you were lying asleep there as if nothing were the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Coolness?” she inquired, in a quiet voice. “Or cruelty?” + </p> + <p> + “Cruelty?” I echoed, aghast. “Sebastian cruel! Oh, Nurse Wade, what an + idea! Why, he has spent his whole life in striving against all odds to + alleviate pain. He is the apostle of philanthropy!” + </p> + <p> + “Of philanthropy, or of science? To alleviate pain, or to learn the whole + truth about the human body?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, now,” I cried. “You analyse too far. I will not let even YOU + put me out of conceit with Sebastian.” (Her face flushed at that “even + you”; I almost fancied she began to like me.) “He is the enthusiasm of my + life; just consider how much he has done for humanity!” + </p> + <p> + She looked me through searchingly. “I will not destroy your illusion,” she + answered, after a pause. “It is a noble and generous one. But is it not + largely based on an ascetic face, long white hair, and a moustache that + hides the cruel corners of the mouth? For the corners ARE cruel. Some day, + I will show you them. Cut off the long hair, shave the grizzled moustache—and + what then will remain?” She drew a profile hastily. “Just that,” and she + showed it me. 'Twas a face like Robespierre's, grown harder and older and + lined with observation. I recognised that it was in fact the essence of + Sebastian. + </p> + <p> + Next day, as it turned out, the Professor himself insisted upon testing + lethodyne in his own person. All Nat's strove to dissuade him. “Your life + is so precious, sir—the advancement of science!” But the Professor + was adamantine. + </p> + <p> + “Science can only be advanced if men of science will take their lives in + their hands,” he answered, sternly. “Besides, Nurse Wade has tried. Am I + to lag behind a woman in my devotion to the cause of physiological + knowledge?” + </p> + <p> + “Let him try,” Hilda Wade murmured to me. “He is quite right. It will not + hurt him. I have told him already he has just the proper temperament to + stand the drug. Such people are rare: HE is one of them.” + </p> + <p> + We administered the dose, trembling. Sebastian took it like a man, and + dropped off instantly, for lethodyne is at least as instantaneous in its + operation as nitrous oxide. + </p> + <p> + He lay long asleep. Hilda and I watched him. + </p> + <p> + After he had lain for some minutes senseless, like a log, on the couch + where we had placed him, Hilda stooped over him quietly and lifted up the + ends of the grizzled moustache. Then she pointed one accusing finger at + his lips. “I told you so,” she murmured, with a note of demonstration. + </p> + <p> + “There is certainly something rather stern, or even ruthless, about the + set of the face and the firm ending of the lips,” I admitted, reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “That is why God gave men moustaches,” she mused, in a low voice; “to hide + the cruel corners of their mouths.” + </p> + <p> + “Not ALWAYS cruel,” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes cruel, sometimes cunning, sometimes sensuous; but nine times + out of ten best masked by moustaches.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a bad opinion of our sex!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Providence knew best,” she answered. “IT gave you moustaches. That was in + order that we women might be spared from always seeing you as you are. + Besides, I said 'Nine times out of ten.' There are exceptions—SUCH + exceptions!” + </p> + <p> + On second thought, I did not feel sure that I could quarrel with her + estimate. + </p> + <p> + The experiment was that time once more successful. Sebastian woke up from + the comatose state after eight hours, not quite as fresh as Hilda Wade, + perhaps, but still tolerably alive; less alert, however, and complaining + of dull headache. He was not hungry. Hilda Wade shook her head at that. + “It will be of use only in a very few cases,” she said to me, regretfully; + “and those few will need to be carefully picked by an acute observer. I + see resistance to the coma is, even more than I thought, a matter of + temperament. Why, so impassioned a man as the Professor himself cannot + entirely recover. With more sluggish temperaments, we shall have deeper + difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you call him impassioned?” I asked. “Most people think him so cold + and stern.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “He is a snow-capped volcano!” she answered. “The + fires of his life burn bright below. The exterior alone is cold and + placid.” + </p> + <p> + However, starting from that time, Sebastian began a course of experiments + on patients, giving infinitesimal doses at first, and venturing slowly on + somewhat larger quantities. But only in his own case and Hilda's could the + result be called quite satisfactory. One dull and heavy, drink-sodden + navvy, to whom he administered no more than one-tenth of a grain, was + drowsy for a week, and listless long after; while a fat washerwoman from + West Ham, who took only two-tenths, fell so fast asleep, and snored so + stertorously, that we feared she was going to doze off into eternity, + after the fashion of the rabbits. Mothers of large families, we noted, + stood the drug very ill; on pale young girls of the consumptive tendency + its effect was not marked; but only a patient here and there, of + exceptionally imaginative and vivid temperament, seemed able to endure it. + Sebastian was discouraged. He saw the anaesthetic was not destined to + fulfil his first enthusiastic humanitarian expectations. One day, while + the investigation was just at this stage, a case was admitted into the + observation-cots in which Hilda Wade took a particular interest. The + patient was a young girl named Isabel Huntley—tall, dark, and + slender, a markedly quick and imaginative type, with large black eyes + which clearly bespoke a passionate nature. Though distinctly hysterical, + she was pretty and pleasing. Her rich dark hair was as copious as it was + beautiful. She held herself erect and had a finely poised head. From the + first moment she arrived, I could see nurse Wade was strongly drawn + towards her. Their souls sympathised. Number Fourteen—that is our + impersonal way of describing CASES—was constantly on Hilda's lips. + “I like the girl,” she said once. “She is a lady in fibre.” + </p> + <p> + “And a tobacco-trimmer by trade,” Sebastian added, sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + As usual, Hilda's was the truer description. It went deeper. + </p> + <p> + Number Fourteen's ailment was a rare and peculiar one, into which I need + not enter here with professional precision. (I have described the case + fully for my brother practitioners in my paper in the fourth volume of + Sebastian's Medical Miscellanies.) It will be enough for my present + purpose to say, in brief, that the lesion consisted of an internal growth + which is always dangerous and most often fatal, but which nevertheless is + of such a character that, if it be once happily eradicated by supremely + good surgery, it never tends to recur, and leaves the patient as strong + and well as ever. Sebastian was, of course, delighted with the splendid + opportunity thus afforded him. “It is a beautiful case!” he cried, with + professional enthusiasm. “Beautiful! Beautiful! I never saw one so deadly + or so malignant before. We are indeed in luck's way. Only a miracle can + save her life. Cumberledge, we must proceed to perform the miracle.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian loved such cases. They formed his ideal. He did not greatly + admire the artificial prolongation of diseased and unwholesome lives, + which could never be of much use to their owners or anyone else; but when + a chance occurred for restoring to perfect health a valuable existence + which might otherwise be extinguished before its time, he positively + revelled in his beneficent calling. “What nobler object can a man propose + to himself,” he used to say, “than to raise good men and true from the + dead, as it were, and return them whole and sound to the family that + depends upon them? Why, I had fifty times rather cure an honest + coal-heaver of a wound in his leg than give ten years more lease of life + to a gouty lord, diseased from top to toe, who expects to find a month of + Carlsbad or Homburg once every year make up for eleven months of + over-eating, over-drinking, vulgar debauchery, and under-thinking.” He had + no sympathy with men who lived the lives of swine: his heart was with the + workers. + </p> + <p> + Of course, Hilda Wade soon suggested that, as an operation was absolutely + necessary, Number Fourteen would be a splendid subject on whom to test + once more the effects of lethodyne. Sebastian, with his head on one side, + surveying the patient, promptly coincided. “Nervous diathesis,” he + observed. “Very vivid fancy. Twitches her hands the right way. Quick + pulse, rapid perceptions, no meaningless unrest, but deep vitality. I + don't doubt she'll stand it.” + </p> + <p> + We explained to Number Fourteen the gravity of the case, and also the + tentative character of the operation under lethodyne. At first, she shrank + from taking it. “No, no!” she said; “let me die quietly.” But Hilda, like + the Angel of Mercy that she was, whispered in the girl's ear: “IF it + succeeds, you will get quite well, and—you can marry Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + The patient's dark face flushed crimson. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Arthur,” she cried. “Dear Arthur! I can bear anything you choose to + do to me—for Arthur!” + </p> + <p> + “How soon you find these things out!” I cried to Hilda, a few minutes + later. “A mere man would never have thought of that. And who is Arthur?” + </p> + <p> + “A sailor—on a ship that trades with the South Seas. I hope he is + worthy of her. Fretting over Arthur's absence has aggravated the case. He + is homeward-bound now. She is worrying herself to death for fear she + should not live to say good-bye to him.” + </p> + <p> + “She WILL live to marry him,” I answered, with confidence like her own, + “if YOU say she can stand it.” + </p> + <p> + “The lethodyne—oh, yes; THAT'S all right. But the operation itself + is so extremely dangerous; though Dr. Sebastian says he has called in the + best surgeon in London for all such cases. They are rare, he tells me—and + Nielsen has performed on six, three of them successfully.” + </p> + <p> + We gave the girl the drug. She took it, trembling, and went off at once, + holding Hilda's hand, with a pale smile on her face, which persisted there + somewhat weirdly all through the operation. The work of removing the + growth was long and ghastly, even for us who were well seasoned to such + sights; but at the end Nielsen expressed himself as perfectly satisfied. + “A very neat piece of work!” Sebastian exclaimed, looking on. “I + congratulate you, Nielsen. I never saw anything done cleaner or better.” + </p> + <p> + “A successful operation, certainly!” the great surgeon admitted, with just + pride in the Master's commendation. + </p> + <p> + “AND the patient?” Hilda asked, wavering. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the patient? The patient will die,” Nielsen replied, in an + unconcerned voice, wiping his spotless instruments. + </p> + <p> + “That is not MY idea of the medical art,” I cried, shocked at his + callousness. “An operation is only successful if—” + </p> + <p> + He regarded me with lofty scorn. “A certain percentage of losses,” he + interrupted, calmly, “is inevitable, of course, in all surgical + operations. We are obliged to average it. How could I preserve my + precision and accuracy of hand if I were always bothered by sentimental + considerations of the patient's safety?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda Wade looked up at me with a sympathetic glance. “We will pull her + through yet,” she murmured, in her soft voice, “if care and skill can do + it,—MY care and YOUR skill. This is now OUR patient, Dr. + Cumberledge.” + </p> + <p> + It needed care and skill. We watched her for hours, and she showed no sign + or gleam of recovery. Her sleep was deeper than either Sebastian's or + Hilda's had been. She had taken a big dose, so as to secure immobility. + The question now was, would she recover at all from it? Hour after hour we + waited and watched; and not a sign of movement! Only the same deep, slow, + hampered breathing, the same feeble, jerky pulse, the same deathly pallor + on the dark cheeks, the same corpse-like rigidity of limb and muscle. + </p> + <p> + At last our patient stirred faintly, as in a dream; her breath faltered. + We bent over her. Was it death, or was she beginning to recover? + </p> + <p> + Very slowly, a faint trace of colour came back to her cheeks. Her heavy + eyes half opened. They stared first with a white stare. Her arms dropped + by her side. Her mouth relaxed its ghastly smile.... We held our + breath.... She was coming to again! + </p> + <p> + But her coming to was slow—very, very slow. Her pulse was still + weak. Her heart pumped feebly. We feared she might sink from inanition at + any moment. Hilda Wade knelt on the floor by the girl's side and held a + spoonful of beef essence coaxingly to her lips. Number Fourteen gasped, + drew a long, slow breath, then gulped and swallowed it. After that she lay + back with her mouth open, looking like a corpse. Hilda pressed another + spoonful of the soft jelly upon her; but the girl waved it away with one + trembling hand. “Let me die,” she cried. “Let me die! I feel dead + already.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda held her face close. “Isabel,” she whispered—and I recognised + in her tone the vast moral difference between “Isabel” and “Number + Fourteen,”—“Is-a-bel, you must take it. For Arthur's sake, I say, + you MUST take it.” + </p> + <p> + The girl's hand quivered as it lay on the white coverlet. “For Arthur's + sake!” she murmured, lifting her eyelids dreamily. “For Arthur's sake! + Yes, nurse, dear!” + </p> + <p> + “Call me Hilda, please! Hilda!” + </p> + <p> + The girl's face lighted up again. “Yes, Hilda, dear,” she answered, in an + unearthly voice, like one raised from the dead. “I will call you what you + will. Angel of light, you have been so good to me.” + </p> + <p> + She opened her lips with an effort and slowly swallowed another spoonful. + Then she fell back, exhausted. But her pulse improved within twenty + minutes. I mentioned the matter, with enthusiasm, to Sebastian later. “It + is very nice in its way,” he answered; “but... it is not nursing.” + </p> + <p> + I thought to myself that that was just what it WAS; but I did not say so. + Sebastian was a man who thought meanly of women. “A doctor, like a + priest,” he used to declare, “should keep himself unmarried. His bride is + medicine.” And he disliked to see what he called PHILANDERING going on in + his hospital. It may have been on that account that I avoided speaking + much of Hilda Wade thenceforth before him. + </p> + <p> + He looked in casually next day to see the patient. “She will die,” he + said, with perfect assurance, as we passed down the ward together. + “Operation has taken too much out of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, she has great recuperative powers,” Hilda answered. “They all have + in her family, Professor. You may, perhaps, remember Joseph Huntley, who + occupied Number Sixty-seven in the Accident Ward, some nine months since—compound + fracture of the arm—a dark, nervous engineer's assistant—very + hard to restrain—well, HE was her brother; he caught typhoid fever + in the hospital, and you commented at the time on his strange vitality. + Then there was her cousin, again, Ellen Stubbs. We had HER for stubborn + chronic laryngitis—a very bad case—anyone else would have died—yielded + at once to your treatment; and made, I recollect, a splendid + convalescence.” + </p> + <p> + “What a memory you have!” Sebastian cried, admiring against his will. “It + is simply marvellous! I never saw anyone like you in my life... except + once. HE was a man, a doctor, a colleague of mine—dead long ago.... + Why—” he mused, and gazed hard at her. Hilda shrank before his gaze. + “This is curious,” he went on slowly, at last; “very curious. You—why, + you resemble him!” + </p> + <p> + “Do I?” Hilda replied, with forced calm, raising her eyes to his. Their + glances met. That moment, I saw each had recognised something; and from + that day forth I was instinctively aware that a duel was being waged + between Sebastian and Hilda,—a duel between the two ablest and most + singular personalities I had ever met; a duel of life and death—though + I did not fully understand its purport till much, much later. + </p> + <p> + Every day after that, the poor, wasted girl in Number Fourteen grew + feebler and fainter. Her temperature rose; her heart throbbed weakly. She + seemed to be fading away. Sebastian shook his head. “Lethodyne is a + failure,” he said, with a mournful regret. “One cannot trust it. The case + might have recovered from the operation, or recovered from the drug; but + she could not recover from both together. Yet the operation would have + been impossible without the drug, and the drug is useless except for the + operation.” + </p> + <p> + It was a great disappointment to him. He hid himself in his room, as was + his wont when disappointed, and went on with his old work at his beloved + microbes. + </p> + <p> + “I have one hope still,” Hilda murmured to me by the bedside, when our + patient was at her worst. “If one contingency occurs, I believe we may + save her.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head waywardly. “You must wait and see,” she answered. “If + it comes off, I will tell you. If not, let it swell the limbo of lost + inspirations.” + </p> + <p> + Next morning early, however, she came up to me with a radiant face, + holding a newspaper in her hand. “Well, it HAS happened!” she cried, + rejoicing. “We shall save poor Isabel Number Fourteen, I mean; our way is + clear, Dr. Cumberledge.” + </p> + <p> + I followed her blindly to the bedside, little guessing what she could + mean. She knelt down at the head of the cot. The girl's eyes were closed. + I touched her cheek; she was in a high fever. “Temperature?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “A hundred and three.” + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. Every symptom of fatal relapse. I could not imagine what + card Hilda held in reserve. But I stood there, waiting. + </p> + <p> + She whispered in the girl's ear: “Arthur's ship is sighted off the + Lizard.” + </p> + <p> + The patient opened her eyes slowly, and rolled them for a moment as if she + did not understand. + </p> + <p> + “Too late!” I cried. “Too late! She is delirious—insensible!” + </p> + <p> + Hilda repeated the words slowly, but very distinctly. “Do you hear, dear? + Arthur's ship... it is sighted.... Arthur's ship... at the Lizard.” + </p> + <p> + The girl's lips moved. “Arthur! Arthur!... Arthur's ship!” A deep sigh. + She clenched her hands. “He is coming?” Hilda nodded and smiled, holding + her breath with suspense. + </p> + <p> + “Up the Channel now. He will be at Southampton tonight. Arthur... at + Southampton. It is here, in the papers; I have telegraphed to him to hurry + on at once to see you.” + </p> + <p> + She struggled up for a second. A smile flitted across the worn face. Then + she fell back wearily. + </p> + <p> + I thought all was over. Her eyes stared white. But ten minutes later she + opened her lids again. “Arthur is coming,” she murmured. “Arthur... + coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear. Now sleep. He is coming.” + </p> + <p> + All through that day and the next night she was restless and agitated; but + still her pulse improved a little. Next morning she was again a trifle + better. Temperature falling—a hundred and one, point three. At ten + o'clock Hilda came in to her, radiant. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Isabel, dear,” she cried, bending down and touching her cheek + (kissing is forbidden by the rules of the house), “Arthur has come. He is + here... down below... I have seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “Seen him!” the girl gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, seen him. Talked with him. Such a nice, manly fellow; and such an + honest, good face! He is longing for you to get well. He says he has come + home this time to marry you.” + </p> + <p> + The wan lips quivered. “He will NEVER marry me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, he WILL—if you will take this jelly. Look here—he + wrote these words to you before my very eyes: 'Dear love to my Isa!'... If + you are good, and will sleep, he may see you—to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The girl opened her lips and ate the jelly greedily. She ate as much as + she was desired. In three minutes more her head had fallen like a child's + upon her pillow and she was sleeping peacefully. + </p> + <p> + I went up to Sebastian's room, quite excited with the news. He was busy + among his bacilli. They were his hobby, his pets. “Well, what do you + think, Professor?” I cried. “That patient of Nurse Wade's—” + </p> + <p> + He gazed up at me abstractedly, his brow contracting. “Yes, yes; I know,” + he interrupted. “The girl in Fourteen. I have discounted her case long + ago. She has ceased to interest me.... Dead, of course! Nothing else was + possible.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed a quick little laugh of triumph. “No, sir; NOT dead. Recovering! + She has fallen just now into a normal sleep; her breathing is natural.” + </p> + <p> + He wheeled his revolving chair away from the germs and fixed me with his + keen eyes. “Recovering?” he echoed. “Impossible! Rallying, you mean. A + mere flicker. I know my trade. She MUST die this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive my persistence,” I replied; “but—her temperature has gone + down to ninety-nine and a trifle.” + </p> + <p> + He pushed away the bacilli in the nearest watch-glass quite angrily. “To + ninety-nine!” he exclaimed, knitting his brows. “Cumberledge, this is + disgraceful! A most disappointing case! A most provoking patient!” + </p> + <p> + “But surely, sir—” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk to ME, boy! Don't attempt to apologise for her. Such conduct + is unpardonable. She OUGHT to have died. It was her clear duty. I SAID she + would die, and she should have known better than to fly in the face of the + faculty. Her recovery is an insult to medical science. What is the staff + about? Nurse Wade should have prevented it.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, sir,” I exclaimed, trying to touch him on a tender spot, “the + anaesthetic, you know! Such a triumph for lethodyne! This case shows + clearly that on certain constitutions it may be used with advantage under + certain conditions.” + </p> + <p> + He snapped his fingers. “Lethodyne! pooh! I have lost interest in it. + Impracticable! It is not fitted for the human species.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so? Number Fourteen proves—” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted me with an impatient wave of his hand; then he rose and + paced up and down the room testily. After a pause, he spoke again. “The + weak point of lethodyne is this: nobody can be trusted to say WHEN it may + be used—except Nurse Wade,—which is NOT science.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time in my life, I had a glimmering idea that I distrusted + Sebastian. Hilda Wade was right—the man was cruel. But I had never + observed his cruelty before—because his devotion to science had + blinded me to it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE GENTLEMAN WHO HAD FAILED FOR EVERYTHING + </h3> + <p> + One day, about those times, I went round to call on my aunt, Lady Tepping. + And lest you accuse me of the vulgar desire to flaunt my fine relations in + your face, I hasten to add that my poor dear old aunt is a very ordinary + specimen of the common Army widow. Her husband, Sir Malcolm, a crusty old + gentleman of the ancient school, was knighted in Burma, or thereabouts, + for a successful raid upon naked natives, on something that is called the + Shan frontier. When he had grown grey in the service of his Queen and + country, besides earning himself incidentally a very decent pension, he + acquired gout and went to his long rest in Kensal Green Cemetery. He left + his wife with one daughter, and the only pretence to a title in our + otherwise blameless family. + </p> + <p> + My cousin Daphne is a very pretty girl, with those quiet, sedate manners + which often develop later in life into genuine self-respect and real depth + of character. Fools do not admire her; they accuse her of being “heavy.” + But she can do without fools; she has a fine, strongly built figure, an + upright carriage, a large and broad forehead, a firm chin, and features + which, though well-marked and well-moulded, are yet delicate in outline + and sensitive in expression. Very young men seldom take to Daphne: she lacks + the desired inanity. But she has mind, repose, and womanly tenderness. + Indeed, if she had not been my cousin, I almost think I might once have + been tempted to fall in love with her. + </p> + <p> + When I reached Gloucester Terrace, on this particular afternoon, I found + Hilda Wade there before me. She had lunched at my aunt's, in fact. It was + her “day out” at St. Nathaniel's, and she had come round to spend it with + Daphne Tepping. I had introduced her to the house some time before, and + she and my cousin had struck up a close acquaintance immediately. Their + temperaments were sympathetic; Daphne admired Hilda's depth and reserve, + while Hilda admired Daphne's grave grace and self-control, her perfect + freedom from current affectations. She neither giggled nor aped Ibsenism. + </p> + <p> + A third person stood back in the room when I entered—a tall and + somewhat jerry-built young man, with a rather long and solemn face, like + an early stage in the evolution of a Don Quixote. I took a good look at + him. There was something about his air that impressed me as both + lugubrious and humorous; and in this I was right, for I learned later that + he was one of those rare people who can sing a comic song with immense + success while preserving a sour countenance, like a Puritan preacher's. + His eyes were a little sunken, his fingers long and nervous; but I fancied + he looked a good fellow at heart, for all that, though foolishly + impulsive. He was a punctilious gentleman, I felt sure; his face and + manner grew upon one rapidly. + </p> + <p> + Daphne rose as I entered, and waved the stranger forward with an imperious + little wave. I imagined, indeed, that I detected in the gesture a faint + touch of half-unconscious proprietorship. “Good-morning, Hubert,” she + said, taking my hand, but turning towards the tall young man. “I don't + think you know Mr. Cecil Holsworthy.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard you speak of him,” I answered, drinking him in with my + glance. I added internally, “Not half good enough for you.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda's eyes met mine and read my thought. They flashed back word, in the + language of eyes, “I do not agree with you.” + </p> + <p> + Daphne, meanwhile, was watching me closely. I could see she was anxious to + discover what impression her friend Mr. Holsworthy was making on me. Till + then, I had no idea she was fond of anyone in particular; but the way her + glance wandered from him to me and from me to Hilda showed clearly that + she thought much of this gawky visitor. + </p> + <p> + We sat and talked together, we four, for some time. I found the young man + with the lugubrious countenance improved immensely on closer acquaintance. + His talk was clever. He turned out to be the son of a politician high in + office in the Canadian Government, and he had been educated at Oxford. The + father, I gathered, was rich, but he himself was making an income of + nothing a year just then as a briefless barrister, and he was hesitating + whether to accept a post of secretary that had been offered him in the + colony, or to continue his negative career at the Inner Temple, for the + honour and glory of it. + </p> + <p> + “Now, which would YOU advise me, Miss Tepping?” he inquired, after we had + discussed the matter some minutes. + </p> + <p> + Daphne's face flushed up. “It is so hard to decide,” she answered. “To + decide to YOUR best advantage, I mean, of course. For naturally all your + English friends would wish to keep you as long as possible in England.” + </p> + <p> + “No, do you think so?” the gawky young man jerked out with evident + pleasure. “Now, that's awfully kind of you. Do you know, if YOU tell me I + ought to stay in England, I've half a mind... I'll cable over this very + day and refuse the appointment.” + </p> + <p> + Daphne flushed once more. “Oh, please don't!” she exclaimed, looking + frightened. “I shall be quite distressed if a stray word of mine should + debar you from accepting a good offer of a secretaryship.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, your least wish—” the young man began—then checked + himself hastily—“must be always important,” he went on, in a + different voice, “to everyone of your acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + Daphne rose hurriedly. “Look here, Hilda,” she said, a little tremulously, + biting her lip, “I have to go out into Westbourne Grove to get those + gloves for to-night, and a spray for my hair; will you excuse me for half + an hour?” + </p> + <p> + Holsworthy rose too. “Mayn't I go with you?” he asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you like. How very kind of you!” Daphne answered, her cheek a + blush rose. “Hubert, will you come too? and you, Hilda?” + </p> + <p> + It was one of those invitations which are given to be refused. I did not + need Hilda's warning glance to tell me that my company would be quite + superfluous. I felt those two were best left together. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, though, Dr. Cumberledge!” Hilda put in, as soon as they were + gone. “He WON'T propose, though he has had every encouragement. I don't + know what's the matter; but I've been watching them both for weeks, and + somehow things seem never to get any forwarder.” + </p> + <p> + “You think he's in love with her?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “In love with her! Well, you have eyes in your head, I know; where could + they have been looking? He's madly in love—a very good kind of love, + too. He genuinely admires and respects and appreciates all Daphne's sweet + and charming qualities.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what do you suppose is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I have an inkling of the truth: I imagine Mr. Cecil must have let himself + in for a prior attachment.” + </p> + <p> + “If so, why does he hang about Daphne?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—he can't help himself. He's a good fellow and a chivalrous + fellow. He admires your cousin; but he must have got himself into some + foolish entanglement elsewhere which he is too honourable to break off; + while at the same time he's far too much impressed by Daphne's fine + qualities to be able to keep away from her. It's the ordinary case of love + versus duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he well off? Could he afford to marry Daphne?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, his father's very rich: he has plenty of money; a Canadian + millionaire, they say. That makes it all the likelier that some + undesirable young woman somewhere may have managed to get hold of him. + Just the sort of romantic, impressionable hobbledehoy such women angle + for.” + </p> + <p> + I drummed my fingers on the table. Presently Hilda spoke again. “Why don't + you try to get to know him, and find out precisely what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I KNOW what's the matter—now you've told me,” I answered. “It's as + clear as day. Daphne is very much smitten with him, too. I'm sorry for + Daphne! Well, I'll take your advice; I'll try to have some talk with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do, please; I feel sure I have hit upon it. He has got himself engaged in + a hurry to some girl he doesn't really care about, and he is far too much + of a gentleman to break it off, though he's in love quite another way with + Daphne.” + </p> + <p> + Just at that moment the door opened and my aunt entered. + </p> + <p> + “Why, where's Daphne?” she cried, looking about her and arranging her + black lace shawl. + </p> + <p> + “She has just run out into Westbourne Grove to get some gloves and a + flower for the fete this evening,” Hilda answered. Then she added, + significantly, “Mr. Holsworthy has gone with her.” + </p> + <p> + “What? That boy's been here again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lady Tepping. He called to see Daphne.” + </p> + <p> + My aunt turned to me with an aggrieved tone. It is a peculiarity of my + aunt's—I have met it elsewhere—that if she is angry with + Jones, and Jones is not present, she assumes a tone of injured asperity on + his account towards Brown or Smith, or any other innocent person whom she + happens to be addressing. “Now, this is really too bad, Hubert,” she burst + out, as if <i>I</i> were the culprit. “Disgraceful! Abominable! I'm sure I + can't make out what the young fellow means by it. Here he comes dangling + after Daphne every day and all day long—and never once says whether + he means anything by it or not. In MY young days, such conduct as that + would not have been considered respectable.” + </p> + <p> + I nodded and beamed benignly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, why don't you answer me?” my aunt went on, warming up. “DO you mean + to tell me you think his behaviour respectful to a nice girl in Daphne's + position?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear aunt,” I answered, “you confound the persons. I am not Mr. + Holsworthy. I decline responsibility for him. I meet him here, in YOUR + house, for the first time this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Then that shows how often you come to see your relations, Hubert!” my + aunt burst out, obliquely. “The man's been here, to my certain knowledge, + every day this six weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Aunt Fanny,” I said; “you must recollect that a professional man—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. THAT'S the way! Lay it all down to your profession, do, Hubert! + Though I KNOW you were at the Thorntons' on Saturday—saw it in the + papers—the Morning Post—'among the guests were Sir Edward and + Lady Burnes, Professor Sebastian, Dr. Hubert Cumberledge,' and so forth, + and so forth. YOU think you can conceal these things; but you can't. I get + to know them!” + </p> + <p> + “Conceal them! My dearest aunt! Why, I danced twice with Daphne.” + </p> + <p> + “Daphne! Yes, Daphne. They all run after Daphne,” my aunt exclaimed, + altering the venue once more. “But there's no respect for age left. <i>I</i> + expect to be neglected. However, that's neither here nor there. The point + is this: you're the one man now living in the family. You ought to behave + like a brother to Daphne. Why don't you board this Holsworthy person and + ask him his intentions?” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness gracious!” I cried; “most excellent of aunts, that epoch has + gone past. The late lamented Queen Anne is now dead. It's no use asking + the young man of to-day to explain his intentions. He will refer you to + the works of the Scandinavian dramatists.” + </p> + <p> + My aunt was speechless. She could only gurgle out the words: “Well, I can + safely say that of all the monstrous behaviour—” then language + failed her and she relapsed into silence. + </p> + <p> + However, when Daphne and young Holsworthy returned, I had as much talk + with him as I could, and when he left the house I left also. + </p> + <p> + “Which way are you walking?” I asked, as we turned out into the street. + </p> + <p> + “Towards my rooms in the Temple.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I'm going back to St. Nathaniel's,” I continued. “If you'll allow me, + I'll walk part way with you.” + </p> + <p> + “How very kind of you!” + </p> + <p> + We strode side by side a little distance in silence. Then a thought seemed + to strike the lugubrious young man. “What a charming girl your cousin is!” + he exclaimed, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to think so,” I answered, smiling. + </p> + <p> + He flushed a little; the lantern jaw grew longer. “I admire her, of + course,” he answered. “Who doesn't? She is so extraordinarily handsome.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not exactly handsome,” I replied, with more critical and + kinsman-like deliberation. “Pretty, if you will; and decidedly pleasing + and attractive in manner.” + </p> + <p> + He looked me up and down, as if he found me a person singularly deficient + in taste and appreciation. “Ah, but then, you are her cousin,” he said at + last, with a compassionate tone. “That makes a difference.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite see all Daphne's strong points,” I answered, still smiling, for I + could perceive he was very far gone. “She is good-looking, and she is + clever.” + </p> + <p> + “Clever!” he echoed. “Profound! She has a most unusual intellect. She + stands alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Like her mother's silk dresses,” I murmured, half under my breath. + </p> + <p> + He took no notice of my flippant remark, but went on with his rhapsody. + “Such depth; such penetration! And then, how sympathetic! Why, even to a + mere casual acquaintance like myself, she is so kind, so discerning!” + </p> + <p> + “ARE you such a casual acquaintance?” I inquired, with a smile. (It might + have shocked Aunt Fanny to hear me; but THAT is the way we ask a young man + his intentions nowadays.) + </p> + <p> + He stopped short and hesitated. “Oh, quite casual,” he replied, almost + stammering. “Most casual, I assure you.... I have never ventured to do + myself the honour of supposing that... that Miss Tepping could possibly + care for me.” + </p> + <p> + “There is such a thing as being TOO modest and unassuming,” I answered. + “It sometimes leads to unintentional cruelty.” + </p> + <p> + “No, do you think so?” he cried, his face falling all at once. “I should + blame myself bitterly if that were so. Dr. Cumberledge, you are her + cousin. DO you gather that I have acted in such a way as to—to lead + Miss Tepping to suppose I felt any affection for her?” + </p> + <p> + I laughed in his face. “My dear boy,” I answered, laying one hand on his + shoulder, “may I say the plain truth? A blind bat could see you are madly + in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + His mouth twitched. “That's very serious!” he answered, gravely; “very + serious.” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” I responded, with my best paternal manner, gazing blankly in + front of me. + </p> + <p> + He stopped short again. “Look here,” he said, facing me. “Are you busy? + No? Then come back with me to my rooms; and—I'll make a clean breast + of it.” + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” I assented. “When one is young—and foolish—I + have often noticed, as a medical man, that a drachm of clean breast is a + magnificent prescription.” + </p> + <p> + He walked back by my side, talking all the way of Daphne's many adorable + qualities. He exhausted the dictionary for laudatory adjectives. By the + time I reached his door it was not HIS fault if I had not learned that the + angelic hierarchy were not in the running with my pretty cousin for graces + and virtues. I felt that Faith, Hope, and Charity ought to resign at once + in favour of Miss Daphne Tepping, promoted. + </p> + <p> + He took me into his comfortably furnished rooms—the luxurious rooms + of a rich young bachelor, with taste as well as money—and offered me + a partaga. Now, I have long observed, in the course of my practice, that a + choice cigar assists a man in taking a philosophic outlook on the question + under discussion; so I accepted the partaga. He sat down opposite me and + pointed to a photograph in the centre of his mantlepiece. “I am engaged to + that lady,” he put in, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “So I anticipated,” I answered, lighting up. + </p> + <p> + He started and looked surprised. “Why, what made you guess it?” he + inquired. + </p> + <p> + I smiled the calm smile of superior age—I was some eight years or so + his senior. “My dear fellow,” I murmured, “what else could prevent you + from proposing to Daphne—when you are so undeniably in love with + her?” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal,” he answered. “For example, the sense of my own utter + unworthiness.” + </p> + <p> + “One's own unworthiness,” I replied, “though doubtless real—p'f, p'f—is + a barrier that most of us can readily get over when our admiration for a + particular lady waxes strong enough. So THIS is the prior attachment!” I + took the portrait down and scanned it. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, yes. What do you think of her?” + </p> + <p> + I scrutinised the features. “Seems a nice enough little thing,” I + answered. It was an innocent face, I admit; very frank and girlish. + </p> + <p> + He leaned forward eagerly. “That's just it. A nice enough little thing! + Nothing in the world to be said against her. While Daphne—Miss + Tepping, I mean—” His silence was ecstatic. + </p> + <p> + I examined the photograph still more closely. It displayed a lady of + twenty or thereabouts, with a weak face, small, vacant features, a feeble + chin, a good-humoured, simple mouth, and a wealth of golden hair that + seemed to strike a keynote. + </p> + <p> + “In the theatrical profession?” I inquired at last, looking up. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. “Well, not exactly,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + I pursed my lips and blew a ring. “Music-hall stage?” I went on, + dubiously. + </p> + <p> + He nodded. “But a girl is not necessarily any the less a lady because she + sings at a music-hall,” he added, with warmth, displaying an evident + desire to be just to his betrothed, however much he admired Daphne. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” I admitted. “A lady is a lady; no occupation can in + itself unladify her.... But on the music-hall stage, the odds, one must + admit, are on the whole against her.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, THERE you show prejudice!” + </p> + <p> + “One may be quite unprejudiced,” I answered, “and yet allow that + connection with the music-halls does not, as such, afford clear proof that + a girl is a compound of all the virtues.” + </p> + <p> + “I think she's a good girl,” he retorted, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you want to throw her over?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I don't. That's just it. On the contrary, I mean to keep my word and + marry her.” + </p> + <p> + “IN ORDER to keep your word?” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + He nodded. “Precisely. It is a point of honour.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a poor ground of marriage,” I went on. “Mind, I don't want for a + moment to influence you, as Daphne's cousin. I want to get at the truth of + the situation. I don't even know what Daphne thinks of you. But you + promised me a clean breast. Be a man and bare it.” + </p> + <p> + He bared it instantly. “I thought I was in love with this girl, you see,” + he went on, “till I saw Miss Tepping.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes a difference,” I admitted. + </p> + <p> + “And I couldn't bear to break her heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid!” I cried. “It is the one unpardonable sin. Better anything + than that.” Then I grew practical. “Father's consent?” + </p> + <p> + “MY father's? IS it likely? He expects me to marry into some distinguished + English family.” + </p> + <p> + I hummed a moment. “Well, out with it!” I exclaimed, pointing my cigar at + him. + </p> + <p> + He leaned back in his chair and told me the whole story. A pretty girl; + golden hair; introduced to her by a friend; nice, simple little thing; + mind and heart above the irregular stage on to which she had been driven + by poverty alone; father dead; mother in reduced circumstances. “To keep + the home together, poor Sissie decided—” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely so,” I murmured, knocking off my ash. “The usual + self-sacrifice! Case quite normal! Everything en regle!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean to say you doubt it?” he cried, flushing up, and evidently + regarding me as a hopeless cynic. “I do assure you, Dr. Cumberledge, the + poor child—though miles, of course, below Miss Tepping's level—is + as innocent, and as good—” + </p> + <p> + “As a flower in May. Oh, yes; I don't doubt it. How did you come to + propose to her, though?” + </p> + <p> + He reddened a little. “Well, it was almost accidental,” he said, + sheepishly. “I called there one evening, and her mother had a headache and + went up to bed. And when we two were left alone, Sissie talked a great + deal about her future and how hard her life was. And after a while she + broke down and began to cry. And then—” + </p> + <p> + I cut him short with a wave of my hand. “You need say no more,” I put in, + with a sympathetic face. “We have all been there.” + </p> + <p> + We paused a moment, while I puffed smoke at the photograph again. “Well,” + I said at last, “her face looks to me really simple and nice. It is a good + face. Do you see her often?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; she's on tour.” + </p> + <p> + “In the provinces?” + </p> + <p> + “M'yes; just at present, at Scarborough.” + </p> + <p> + “But she writes to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you think it an unpardonable impertinence if I made bold to ask + whether it would be possible for you to show me a specimen of her + letters?” + </p> + <p> + He unlocked a drawer and took out three or four. Then he read one through, + carefully. “I don't think,” he said, in a deliberative voice, “it would be + a serious breach of confidence in me to let you look through this one. + There's really nothing in it, you know—just the ordinary average + every-day love-letter.” + </p> + <p> + I glanced through the little note. He was right. The conventional hearts + and darts epistle. It sounded nice enough: “Longing to see you again; so + lonely in this place; your dear sweet letter; looking forward to the time; + your ever-devoted Sissie.” + </p> + <p> + “That seems straight,” I answered. “However, I am not quite sure. Will you + allow me to take it away, with the photograph? I know I am asking much. I + want to show it to a lady in whose tact and discrimination I have the + greatest confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Daphne?” + </p> + <p> + I smiled. “No, not Daphne,” I answered. “Our friend, Miss Wade. She has + extraordinary insight.” + </p> + <p> + “I could trust anything to Miss Wade. She is true as steel.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” I answered. “That shows that you, too, are a judge of + character.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. “I feel a brute,” he cried, “to go on writing every day to + Sissie Montague—and yet calling every day to see Miss Tepping. But + still—I do it.” + </p> + <p> + I grasped his hand. “My dear fellow,” I said, “nearly ninety per cent. of + men, after all—are human!” + </p> + <p> + I took both letter and photograph back with me to Nathaniel's. When I had + gone my rounds that night, I carried them into Hilda Wade's room and told + her the story. Her face grew grave. “We must be just,” she said at last. + “Daphne is deeply in love with him; but even for Daphne's sake, we must + not take anything for granted against the other lady.” + </p> + <p> + I produced the photograph. “What do you make of that?” I asked. “<i>I</i> + think it an honest face, myself, I may tell you.” + </p> + <p> + She scrutinised it long and closely with a magnifier. Then she put her + head on one side and mused very deliberately. “Madeline Shaw gave me her + photograph the other day, and said to me, as she gave it, 'I do so like + these modern portraits; they show one WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.'” + </p> + <p> + “You mean they are so much touched up!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. That, as it stands, is a sweet, innocent face—an honest + girl's face—almost babyish in its transparency but... the innocence + has all been put into it by the photographer.” + </p> + <p> + “You think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it. Look here at those lines just visible on the cheek. They + disappear, nowhere, at impossible angles. AND the corners of that mouth. + They couldn't go so, with that nose and those puckers. The thing is not + real. It has been atrociously edited. Part is nature's; part, the + photographer's; part, even possibly paint and powder.” + </p> + <p> + “But the underlying face?” + </p> + <p> + “Is a minx's.” + </p> + <p> + I handed her the letter. “This next?” I asked, fixing my eyes on her as + she looked. + </p> + <p> + She read it through. For a minute or two she examined it. “The letter is + right enough,” she answered, after a second reading, “though its guileless + simplicity is, perhaps, under the circumstances, just a leetle overdone; + but the handwriting—the handwriting is duplicity itself: a cunning, + serpentine hand, no openness or honesty in it. Depend upon it, that girl + is playing a double game.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe, then, there is character in handwriting?” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly; when we know the character, we can see it in the writing. + The difficulty is, to see it and read it BEFORE we know it; and I have + practised a little at that. There is character in all we do, of course—our + walk, our cough, the very wave of our hands; the only secret is, not all + of us have always skill to see it. Here, however, I feel pretty sure. The + curls of the g's and the tails of the y's—how full they are of wile, + of low, underhand trickery!” + </p> + <p> + I looked at them as she pointed. “That is true!” I exclaimed. “I see it + when you show it. Lines meant for effect. No straightness or directness in + them!” + </p> + <p> + Hilda reflected a moment. “Poor Daphne!” she murmured. “I would do + anything to help her.... I'll tell what might be a good plan.” Her face + brightened. “My holiday comes next week. I'll run down to Scarborough—it's + as nice a place for a holiday as any—and I'll observe this young + lady. It can do no harm—and good may come of it.” + </p> + <p> + “How kind of you!” I cried. “But you are always all kindness.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda went to Scarborough, and came back again for a week before going on + to Bruges, where she proposed to spend the greater part of her holidays. + She stopped a night or two in town to report progress, and, finding + another nurse ill, promised to fill her place till a substitute was + forthcoming. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Dr. Cumberledge,” she said, when she saw me alone, “I was right! I + have found out a fact or two about Daphne's rival!” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen her?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Seen her? I have stopped for a week in the same house. A very nice + lodging-house on the Spa front, too. The girl's well enough off. The + poverty plea fails. She goes about in good rooms and carries a mother with + her.” + </p> + <p> + “That's well,” I answered. “That looks all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, she's quite presentable: has the manners of a lady whenever she + chooses. But the chief point is this: she laid her letters every day on + the table in the passage outside her door for post—laid them all in + a row, so that when one claimed one's own one couldn't help seeing them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that was open and aboveboard,” I continued, beginning to fear we + had hastily misjudged Miss Sissie Montague. + </p> + <p> + “Very open—too much so, in fact; for I was obliged to note the fact + that she wrote two letters regularly every day of her life—'to my + two mashes,' she explained one afternoon to a young man who was with her + as she laid them on the table. One of them was always addressed to Cecil + Holsworthy, Esq.” + </p> + <p> + “And the other?” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you note the name?” I asked, interested. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; here it is.” She handed me a slip of paper. + </p> + <p> + I read it: “Reginald Nettlecraft, Esq., 427, Staples Inn, London.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Reggie Nettlecraft!” I cried, amused. “Why, he was a very little + boy at Charterhouse when I was a big one; he afterwards went to Oxford, + and got sent down from Christ Church for the part he took in burning a + Greek bust in Tom Quad—an antique Greek bust—after a bump + supper.” + </p> + <p> + “Just the sort of man I should have expected,” Hilda answered, with a + suppressed smile. “I have a sort of inkling that Miss Montague likes HIM + best; he is nearer her type; but she thinks Cecil Holsworthy the better + match. Has Mr. Nettlecraft money?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a penny, I should say. An allowance from his father, perhaps, who is + a Lincolnshire parson; but otherwise, nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, in my opinion, the young lady is playing for Mr. Holsworthy's + money; failing which, she will decline upon Mr. Nettlecraft's heart.” + </p> + <p> + We talked it all over. In the end I said abruptly: “Nurse Wade, you have + seen Miss Montague, or whatever she calls herself. I have not. I won't + condemn her unheard. I have half a mind to run down one day next week to + Scarborough and have a look at her.” + </p> + <p> + “Do. That will suffice. You can judge then for yourself whether or not I + am mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + I went; and what is more, I heard Miss Sissie sing at her hall—a + pretty domestic song, most childish and charming. She impressed me not + unfavourably, in spite of what Hilda said. Her peach-blossom cheek might + have been art, but looked like nature. She had an open face, a baby smile + and there was a frank girlishness about her dress and manner that took my + fancy. “After all,” I thought to myself, “even Hilda Wade is fallible.” + </p> + <p> + So that evening, when her “turn” was over, I made up my mind to go round + and call upon her. I had told Cecil Holsworthy my intentions beforehand, + and it rather shocked him. He was too much of a gentleman to wish to spy + upon the girl he had promised to marry. However, in my case, there need be + no such scruples. I found the house and asked for Miss Montague. As I + mounted the stairs to the drawing-room floor, I heard a sound of voices—the + murmur of laughter; idiotic guffaws, suppressed giggles, the masculine and + feminine varieties of tomfoolery. + </p> + <p> + “YOU'D make a splendid woman of business, YOU would!” a young man was + saying. I gathered from his drawl that he belonged to that sub-species of + the human race which is known as the Chappie. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't I just?” a girl's voice answered, tittering. I recognised it as + Sissie's. “You ought to see me at it! Why, my brother set up a place once + for mending bicycles; and I used to stand about at the door, as if I had + just returned from a ride; and when fellows came in, with a nut loose or + something, I'd begin talking with them while Bertie tightened it. Then, + when THEY weren't looking, I'd dab the business end of a darning-needle, + so, just plump into their tires; and of course, as soon as they went off, + they were back again in a minute to get a puncture mended! I call THAT + business.” + </p> + <p> + A roar of laughter greeted the recital of this brilliant incident in a + commercial career. As it subsided, I entered. There were two men in the + room, besides Miss Montague and her mother, and a second young lady. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse this late call,” I said, quietly, bowing. “But I have only one + night in Scarborough, Miss Montague, and I wanted to see you. I'm a friend + of Mr. Holsworthy's. I told him I'd look you up, and this is my sole + opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + I FELT rather than saw that Miss Montague darted a quick glance of hidden + meaning at her friends the chappies; their faces, in response, ceased to + snigger and grew instantly sober. + </p> + <p> + She took my card; then, in her alternative manner as the perfect lady, she + presented me to her mother. “Dr. Cumberledge, mamma,” she said, in a + faintly warning voice. “A friend of Mr. Holsworthy's.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady half rose. “Let me see,” she said, staring at me. “WHICH is + Mr. Holsworthy, Siss?—is it Cecil or Reggie?” + </p> + <p> + One of the chappies burst into a fatuous laugh once more at this remark. + “Now, you're giving away the whole show, Mrs. Montague!” he exclaimed, + with a chuckle. A look from Miss Sissie immediately checked him. + </p> + <p> + I am bound to admit, however, that after these untoward incidents of the + first minute, Miss Montague and her friends behaved throughout with + distinguished propriety. Her manners were perfect—I may even say + demure. She asked about “Cecil” with charming naivete. She was frank and + girlish. Lots of innocent fun in her, no doubt—she sang us a comic + song in excellent taste, which is a severe test—but not a suspicion + of double-dealing. If I had not overheard those few words as I came up the + stairs, I think I should have gone away believing the poor girl an injured + child of nature. + </p> + <p> + As it was, I went back to London the very next day, determined to renew my + slight acquaintance with Reggie Nettlecraft. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, I had a good excuse for going to visit him. I had been asked + to collect among old Carthusians for one of those endless “testimonials” + which pursue one through life, and are, perhaps, the worst Nemesis which + follows the crime of having wasted one's youth at a public school: a + testimonial for a retiring master, or professional cricketer, or + washerwoman, or something; and in the course of my duties as collector it + was quite natural that I should call upon all my fellow-victims. So I went + to his rooms in Staples Inn and reintroduced myself. + </p> + <p> + Reggie Nettlecraft had grown up into an unwholesome, spotty, indeterminate + young man, with a speckled necktie, and cuffs of which he was inordinately + proud, and which he insisted on “flashing” every second minute. He was + also evidently self-satisfied; which was odd, for I have seldom seen + anyone who afforded less cause for rational satisfaction. “Hullo,” he + said, when I told him my name. “So it's you, is it, Cumberledge?” He + glanced at my card. “St. Nathaniel's Hospital! What rot! Why, blow me + tight if you haven't turned sawbones!” + </p> + <p> + “That is my profession,” I answered, unashamed. “And you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't have any luck, you know, old man. They turned me out of + Oxford because I had too much sense of humour for the authorities there—beastly + set of old fogeys! Objected to my 'chucking' oyster shells at the tutors' + windows—good old English custom, fast becoming obsolete. Then I + crammed for the Army. But, bless your heart, a GENTLEMAN has no chance for + the Army nowadays; a pack of blooming cads, with what they call + 'intellect,' read up for the exams, and don't give US a look-in; I call it + sheer piffle. Then the Guv'nor set me on electrical engineering—electrical + engineering's played out. I put no stock in it; besides, it's such beastly + fag; and then, you get your hands dirty. So now I'm reading for the Bar; + and if only my coach can put me up to tips enough to dodge the examiners, + I expect to be called some time next summer.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you have failed for everything?” I inquired, just to test his + sense of humour. + </p> + <p> + He swallowed it like a roach. “Oh, when I've failed for everything, I + shall stick up to the Guv'nor. Hang it all, a GENTLEMAN can't be expected + to earn his own livelihood. England's going to the dogs, that's where it + is; no snug little sinecures left for chaps like you and me; all this + beastly competition. And no respect for the feelings of gentlemen, either! + Why, would you believe it, Cumberground—we used to call you + Cumberground at Charterhouse, I remember, or was it Fig Tree?—I + happened to get a bit lively in the Haymarket last week, after a rattling + good supper, and the chap at the police court—old cove with a squint—positively + proposed to send me to prison, WITHOUT THE OPTION OF A FINE!—I'll + trouble you for that—send ME to prison just—for knocking down + a common brute of a bobby. There's no mistake about it; England's NOT a + country now for a gentleman to live in.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why not mark your sense of the fact by leaving it?” I inquired, with + a smile. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. “What? Emigrate? No, thank you! I'm not taking any. + None of your colonies for ME, IF you please. I shall stick to the old + ship. I'm too much attached to the Empire.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet imperialists,” I said, “generally gush over the colonies—the + Empire on which the sun never sets.” + </p> + <p> + “The Empire in Leicester Squire!” he responded, gazing at me with unspoken + contempt. “Have a whisky-and-soda, old chap? What, no? 'Never drink + between meals?' Well, you DO surprise me! I suppose that comes of being a + sawbones, don't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” I answered. “We respect our livers.” Then I went on to the + ostensible reason of my visit—the Charterhouse testimonial. He + slapped his thighs metaphorically, by way of suggesting the depleted + condition of his pockets. “Stony broke, Cumberledge,” he murmured; “stony + broke! Honour bright! Unless Bluebird pulls off the Prince of Wales's + Stakes, I really don't know how I'm to pay the Benchers.” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite unimportant,” I answered. “I was asked to ask you, and I HAVE + asked you.” + </p> + <p> + “So I twig, my dear fellow. Sorry to have to say NO. But I'll tell you + what I can do for you; I can put you upon a straight thing—” + </p> + <p> + I glanced at the mantelpiece. “I see you have a photograph of Miss Sissie + Montague,” I broke in casually, taking it down and examining it. “WITH an + autograph, too. 'Reggie, from Sissie.' You are a friend of hers?” + </p> + <p> + “A friend of hers? I'll trouble you. She IS a clinker, Sissie is! You + should see that girl smoke. I give you my word of honour, Cumberledge, she + can consume cigarettes against any fellow I know in London. Hang it all, a + girl like that, you know—well, one can't help admiring her! Ever + seen her?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; I know her. I called on her, in fact, night before last, at + Scarborough.” + </p> + <p> + He whistled a moment, then broke into an imbecile laugh. “My gum,” he + cried; “this IS a start, this is! You don't mean to tell me YOU are the + other Johnnie.” + </p> + <p> + “What other Johnnie?” I asked, feeling we were getting near it. + </p> + <p> + He leaned back and laughed again. “Well, you know that girl Sissie, she's + a clever one, she is,” he went on after a minute, staring at me. “She's a + regular clinker! Got two strings to her bow; that's where the trouble + comes in. Me and another fellow. She likes me for love and the other + fellow for money. Now, don't you come and tell me that YOU are the other + fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “I have certainly never aspired to the young lady's hand,” I answered, + cautiously. “But don't you know your rival's name, then?” + </p> + <p> + “That's Sissie's blooming cleverness. She's a caulker, Sissie is; you + don't take a rise out of Sissie in a hurry. She knows that if I knew who + the other bloke was, I'd blow upon her little game to him and put him off + her. And I WOULD, s'ep me taters; for I'm nuts on that girl. I tell you, + Cumberledge, she IS a clinker!” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to me admirably adapted for one another,” I answered, + truthfully. I had not the slightest compunction in handing Reggie + Nettlecraft over to Sissie, nor in handing Sissie over to Reggie + Nettlecraft. + </p> + <p> + “Adapted for one another? That's just it. There, you hit the right nail + plump on the cocoanut, Cumberground! But Sissie's an artful one, she is. + She's playing for the other Johnnie. He's got the dibs, you know; and + Sissie wants the dibs even more than she wants yours truly.” + </p> + <p> + “Got what?” I inquired, not quite catching the phrase. + </p> + <p> + “The dibs, old man; the chink; the oof; the ready rhino. He rolls in it, + she says. I can't find out the chap's name, but I know his Guv'nor's + something or other in the millionaire trade somewhere across in America.” + </p> + <p> + “She writes to you, I think?” + </p> + <p> + “That's so; every blooming day; but how the dummy did you come to know + it?” + </p> + <p> + “She lays letters addressed to you on the hall table at her lodgings in + Scarborough.” + </p> + <p> + “The dickens she does! Careless little beggar! Yes, she writes to me—pages. + She's awfully gone on me, really. She'd marry me if it wasn't for the + Johnnie with the dibs. She doesn't care for HIM: she wants his money. He + dresses badly, don't you see; and, after all, the clothes make the man! + I'D like to get at him. I'D spoil his pretty face for him.” And he assumed + a playfully pugilistic attitude. + </p> + <p> + “You really want to get rid of this other fellow?” I asked, seeing my + chance. + </p> + <p> + “Get rid of him? Why, of course! Chuck him into the river some nice dark + night if I could once get a look at him!” + </p> + <p> + “As a preliminary step, would you mind letting me see one of Miss + Montague's letters?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + He drew a long breath. “They're a bit affectionate, you know,” he + murmured, stroking his beardless chin in hesitation. “She's a hot 'un, + Sissie is. She pitches it pretty warm on the affection-stop, I can tell + you. But if you really think you can give the other Johnnie a cut on the + head with her letters—well, in the interests of true love, which + never DOES run smooth, I don't mind letting you have a squint, as my + friend, at one of her charming billy-doos.” + </p> + <p> + He took a bundle from a drawer, ran his eye over one or two with a maudlin + air, and then selected a specimen not wholly unsuitable for publication. + “THERE'S one in the eye for C.,” he said, chuckling. “What would C. say to + that, I wonder? She always calls him C., you know; it's so jolly + non-committing. She says, 'I only wish that beastly old bore C. were at + Halifax—which is where he comes from and then I would fly at once to + my own dear Reggie! But, hang it all, Reggie boy, what's the good of true + love if you haven't got the dibs? I MUST have my comforts. Love in a + cottage is all very well in its way; but who's to pay for the fizz, + Reggie?' That's her refinement, don't you see? Sissie's awfully refined. + She was brought up with the tastes and habits of a lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Clearly so,” I answered. “Both her literary style and her liking for + champagne abundantly demonstrate it!” His acute sense of humour did not + enable him to detect the irony of my observation. I doubt if it extended + much beyond oyster shells. He handed me the letter. I read it through with + equal amusement and gratification. If Miss Sissie had written it on + purpose in order to open Cecil Holsworthy's eyes, she couldn't have + managed the matter better or more effectually. It breathed ardent love, + tempered by a determination to sell her charms in the best and highest + matrimonial market. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I know this man, C.,” I said when I had finished. “And I want to ask + whether you will let me show him Miss Montague's letter. It would set him + against the girl, who, as a matter of fact, is wholly unwor—I mean + totally unfitted for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Let you show it to him? Like a bird! Why, Sissie promised me herself that + if she couldn't bring 'that solemn ass, C.,' up to the scratch by + Christmas, she'd chuck him and marry me. It's here, in writing.” And he + handed me another gem of epistolary literature. + </p> + <p> + “You have no compunctions?” I asked again, after reading it. + </p> + <p> + “Not a blessed compunction to my name.” + </p> + <p> + “Then neither have I,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + I felt they both deserved it. Sissie was a minx, as Hilda rightly judged; + while as for Nettlecraft—well, if a public school and an English + university leave a man a cad, a cad he will be, and there is nothing more + to be said about it. + </p> + <p> + I went straight off with the letters to Cecil Holsworthy. He read them + through, half incredulously at first; he was too honest-natured himself to + believe in the possibility of such double-dealing—that one could + have innocent eyes and golden hair and yet be a trickster. He read them + twice; then he compared them word for word with the simple affection and + childlike tone of his own last letter received from the same lady. Her + versatility of style would have done honour to a practised literary + craftsman. At last he handed them back to me. “Do you think,” he said, “on + the evidence of these, I should be doing wrong in breaking with her?” + </p> + <p> + “Wrong in breaking with her!” I exclaimed. “You would be doing wrong if + you didn't,—wrong to yourself; wrong to your family; wrong, if I may + venture to say so, to Daphne; wrong even in the long run to the girl + herself; for she is not fitted for you, and she IS fitted for Reggie + Nettlecraft. Now, do as I bid you. Sit down at once and write her a letter + from my dictation.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down and wrote, much relieved that I took the responsibility off + his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MISS MONTAGUE,” I began, “the inclosed letters have come into my + hands without my seeking it. After reading them, I feel that I have + absolutely no right to stand between you and the man of your real choice. + It would not be kind or wise of me to do so. I release you at once, and + consider myself released. You may therefore regard our engagement as + irrevocably cancelled. + </p> + <p> + “Faithfully yours, + </p> + <p> + “CECIL HOLSWORTHY.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more than that?” he asked, looking up and biting his pen. “Not a + word of regret or apology?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word,” I answered. “You are really too lenient.” + </p> + <p> + I made him take it out and post it before he could invent conscientious + scruples. Then he turned to me irresolutely. “What shall I do next?” he + asked, with a comical air of doubt. + </p> + <p> + I smiled. “My dear fellow, that is a matter for your own consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “But—do you think she will laugh at me?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Montague?” + </p> + <p> + “No! Daphne.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not in not in Daphne's confidence,” I answered. “I don't know how + she feels. But, on the face of it, I think I can venture to assure you + that at least she won't laugh at you.” + </p> + <p> + He grasped my hand hard. “You don't mean to say so!” he cried. “Well, + that's really very, kind of her! A girl of Daphne's high type! And I, who + feel myself so utterly unworthy of her!” + </p> + <p> + “We are all unworthy of a good woman's love,” I answered. “But, thank + Heaven, the good women don't seem to realise it.” + </p> + <p> + That evening, about ten, my new friend came back in a hurry to my rooms at + St. Nathaniel's. Nurse Wade was standing there, giving her report for the + night when he entered. His face looked some inches shorter and broader + than usual. His eyes beamed. His mouth was radiant. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you won't believe it, Dr. Cumberledge,” he began; “but—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I DO believe it,” I answered. “I know it. I have read it already.” + </p> + <p> + “Read it!” he cried. “Where?” + </p> + <p> + I waved my hand towards his face. “In a special edition of the evening + papers,” I answered, smiling. “Daphne has accepted you!” + </p> + <p> + He sank into an easy chair, beside himself with rapture. “Yes, yes; that + angel! Thanks to YOU, she has accepted me!” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks to Miss Wade,” I said, correcting him. “It is really all HER + doing. If SHE had not seen through the photograph to the face, and through + the face to the woman and the base little heart of her, we might never + have found her out.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to Hilda with eyes all gratitude. “You have given me the dearest + and best girl on earth,” he cried, seizing both her hands. + </p> + <p> + “And I have given Daphne a husband who will love and appreciate her,” + Hilda answered, flushing. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” I said, maliciously; “I told you they never find us out, + Holsworthy!” + </p> + <p> + As for Reggie Nettlecraft and his wife, I should like to add that they are + getting on quite as well as could be expected. Reggie has joined his + Sissie on the music-hall stage; and all those who have witnessed his + immensely popular performance of the Drunken Gentleman before the Bow + Street Police Court acknowledge without reserve that, after “failing for + everything,” he has dropped at last into his true vocation. His + impersonation of the part is said to be “nature itself.” I see no reason + to doubt it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE WIFE WHO DID HER DUTY + </h3> + <p> + To make you understand my next yarn, I must go back to the date of my + introduction to Hilda. + </p> + <p> + “It is witchcraft!” I said the first time I saw her, at Le Geyt's + luncheon-party. + </p> + <p> + She smiled a smile which was bewitching, indeed, but by no means + witch-like,—a frank, open smile with just a touch of natural + feminine triumph in it. “No, not witchcraft,” she answered, helping + herself with her dainty fingers to a burnt almond from the Venetian glass + dish,—“not witchcraft,—memory; aided, perhaps, by some native + quickness of perception. Though I say it myself, I never met anyone, I + think, whose memory goes quite as far as mine does.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean quite as far BACK,” I cried, jesting; for she looked about + twenty-four, and had cheeks like a ripe nectarine, just as pink and just + as softly downy. + </p> + <p> + She smiled again, showing a row of semi-transparent teeth, with a gleam in + the depths of them. She was certainly most attractive. She had that + indefinable, incommunicable, unanalysable personal quality which we know + as CHARM. “No, not as far BACK,” she repeated. “Though, indeed, I often + seem to remember things that happened before I was born (like Queen + Elizabeth's visit to Kenilworth): I recollect so vividly all that I have + heard or read about them. But as far IN EXTENT, I mean. I never let + anything drop out of my memory. As this case shows you, I can recall even + quite unimportant and casual bits of knowledge when any chance clue + happens to bring them back to me.” + </p> + <p> + She had certainly astonished me. The occasion for my astonishment was the + fact that when I handed her my card, “Dr. Hubert Ford Cumberledge, St. + Nathaniel's Hospital,” she had glanced at it for a second and exclaimed, + without sensible pause or break, “Oh, then, of course, you're half Welsh, + as I am.” + </p> + <p> + The instantaneous and apparent inconsecutiveness of her inference took me + aback. “Well, m'yes: I AM half Welsh,” I replied. “My mother came from + Carnarvonshire. But, why THEN, and OF COURSE? I fail to perceive your + train of reasoning.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed a sunny little laugh, like one well accustomed to receive such + inquiries. “Fancy asking A WOMAN to give you 'the train of reasoning' for + her intuitions!” she cried, merrily. “That shows, Dr. Cumberledge, that + you are a mere man—a man of science, perhaps, but NOT a + psychologist. It also suggests that you are a confirmed bachelor. A + married man accepts intuitions, without expecting them to be based on + reasoning.... Well, just this once, I will stretch a point to enlighten + you. If I recollect right, your mother died about three years ago?” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite correct. Then you knew my mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me, no! I never even met her. Why THEN?” + </p> + <p> + Her look was mischievous. “But, unless I mistake, I think she came from + Hendre Coed, near Bangor.” + </p> + <p> + “Wales is a village!” I exclaimed, catching my breath. “Every Welsh person + seems to know all about every other.” + </p> + <p> + My new acquaintance smiled again. When she smiled she was irresistible: a + laughing face protruding from a cloud of diaphanous drapery. “Now, shall I + tell you how I came to know that?” she asked, poising a glace cherry on + her dessert fork in front of her. “Shall I explain my trick, like the + conjurers?” + </p> + <p> + “Conjurers never explain anything,” I answered. “They say: 'So, you see, + THAT'S how it's done!'—with a swift whisk of the hand—and + leave you as much in the dark as ever. Don't explain like the conjurers, + but tell me how you guessed it.” + </p> + <p> + She shut her eyes and seemed to turn her glance inward. + </p> + <p> + “About three years ago,” she began slowly, like one who reconstructs with + an effort a half-forgotten scene, “I saw a notice in the Times—Births, + Deaths, and Marriages—'On the 27th of October'—was it the + 27th?” The keen brown eyes opened again for a second and flashed inquiry + into mine. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” I answered, nodding. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so. 'On the 27th of October, at Brynmor, Bournemouth, Emily + Olwen Josephine, widow of the late Thomas Cumberledge, sometime colonel of + the 7th Bengal Regiment of Foot, and daughter of Iolo Gwyn Ford, Esq., + J.P., of Hendre Coed, near Bangor. Am I correct?” She lifted her dark + eyelashes once more and flooded me. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite correct,” I answered, surprised. “And that is really all + that you knew of my mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely all. The moment I saw your card, I thought to myself, in a + breath: 'Ford, Cumberledge; what do I know of those two names? I have some + link between them. Ah, yes; found Mrs. Cumberledge, wife of Colonel Thomas + Cumberledge, of the 7th Bengals, was a Miss Ford, daughter of a Mr. Ford, + of Bangor.' That came to me like a lightning-gleam. Then I said to myself + again, 'Dr. Hubert Ford Cumberledge must be their son.' So there you have + 'the train of reasoning.' Women CAN reason—sometimes. I had to think + twice, though, before I could recall the exact words of the Times notice.” + </p> + <p> + “And can you do the same with everyone?” + </p> + <p> + “Everyone! Oh, come, now: that is expecting too much! I have not read, + marked, learned, and inwardly digested everyone's family announcements. I + don't pretend to be the Peerage, the Clergy List, and the London Directory + rolled into one. I remembered YOUR family all the more vividly, no doubt, + because of the pretty and unusual old Welsh names, 'Olwen' and 'Iolo Gwyn + Ford,' which fixed themselves on my memory by their mere beauty. + Everything about Wales always attracts me; my Welsh side is uppermost. But + I have hundreds—oh, thousands—of such facts stored and + pigeon-holed in my memory. If anybody else cares to try me,” she glanced + round the table, “perhaps we may be able to test my power that way.” + </p> + <p> + Two or three of the company accepted her challenge, giving the full names + of their sisters or brothers; and, in three cases out of five, my witch + was able to supply either the notice of their marriage or some other like + published circumstance. In the instance of Charlie Vere, it is true, she + went wrong, just at first, though only in a single small particular; it + was not Charlie himself who was gazetted to a sub-lieutenancy in the + Warwickshire Regiment, but his brother Walter. However, the moment she was + told of this slip, she corrected herself at once, and added, like + lightning, “Ah, yes: how stupid of me! I have mixed up the names. Charles + Cassilis Vere got an appointment on the same day in the Rhodesian Mounted + Police, didn't he?” Which was in point of fact quite accurate. + </p> + <p> + But I am forgetting that all this time I have not even now introduced my + witch to you. + </p> + <p> + Hilda Wade, when I first saw her, was one of the prettiest, cheeriest, and + most graceful girls I have ever met—a dusky blonde, brown-eyed, + brown-haired, with a creamy, waxen whiteness of skin that was yet warm and + peach-downy. And I wish to insist from the outset upon the plain fact that + there was nothing uncanny about her. In spite of her singular faculty of + insight, which sometimes seemed to illogical people almost weird or eerie, + she was in the main a bright, well-educated, sensible, winsome, + lawn-tennis-playing English girl. Her vivacious spirits rose superior to + her surroundings, which were often sad enough. But she was above all + things wholesome, unaffected, and sparkling—a gleam of sunshine. She + laid no claim to supernatural powers; she held no dealings with familiar + spirits; she was simply a girl of strong personal charm, endowed with an + astounding memory and a rare measure of feminine intuition. Her memory, + she told me, she shared with her father and all her father's family; they + were famous for their prodigious faculty in that respect. Her impulsive + temperament and quick instincts, on the other hand, descended to her, she + thought, from her mother and her Welsh ancestry. + </p> + <p> + Externally, she seemed thus at first sight little more than the ordinary + pretty, light-hearted English girl, with a taste for field sports + (especially riding), and a native love of the country. But at times one + caught in the brightened colour of her lustrous brown eyes certain curious + undercurrents of depth, of reserve, and of a questioning wistfulness which + made you suspect the presence of profounder elements in her nature. From + the earliest moment of our acquaintance, indeed, I can say with truth that + Hilda Wade interested me immensely. I felt drawn. Her face had that + strange quality of compelling attention for which we have as yet no + English name, but which everybody recognises. You could not ignore her. + She stood out. She was the sort of girl one was constrained to notice. + </p> + <p> + It was Le Geyts first luncheon-party since his second marriage. + Big-bearded, genial, he beamed round on us jubilant. He was proud of his + wife and proud of his recent Q.C.-ship. The new Mrs. Le Geyt sat at the + head of the table, handsome, capable, self-possessed; a vivid, vigorous + woman and a model hostess. Though still quite young, she was large and + commanding. Everybody was impressed by her. “Such a good mother to those + poor motherless children!” all the ladies declared in a chorus of + applause. And, indeed, she had the face of a splendid manager. + </p> + <p> + I said as much in an undertone over the ices to Miss Wade, who sat beside + me—though I ought not to have discussed them at their own table. + “Hugo Le Geyt seems to have made an excellent choice,” I murmured. “Maisie + and Ettie will be lucky, indeed, to be taken care of by such a competent + stepmother. Don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + My witch glanced up at her hostess with a piercing dart of the keen brown + eyes, held her wine-glass half raised, and then electrified me by + uttering, in the same low voice, audible to me alone, but quite clearly + and unhesitatingly, these astounding words: + </p> + <p> + “I think, before twelve mouths are out, MR. LE GEYT WILL HAVE MURDERED + HER!” + </p> + <p> + For a minute I could not answer, so startling was the effect of this + confident prediction. One does not expect to be told such things at lunch, + over the port and peaches, about one's dearest friends, beside their own + mahogany. And the assured air of unfaltering conviction with which Hilda + Wade said it to a complete stranger took my breath away. WHY did she think + so at all? And IF she thought so why choose ME as the recipient of her + singular confidences? + </p> + <p> + I gasped and wondered. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you fancy anything so unlikely?” I asked aside at last, behind + the babel of voices. “You quite alarm me.” + </p> + <p> + She rolled a mouthful of apricot ice reflectively on her tongue, and then + murmured, in a similar aside, “Don't ask me now. Some other time will do. + But I mean what I say. Believe me; I do not speak at random.” + </p> + <p> + She was quite right, of course. To continue would have been equally rude + and foolish. I had perforce to bottle up my curiosity for the moment and + wait till my sibyl was in the mood for interpreting. + </p> + <p> + After lunch we adjourned to the drawing-room. Almost at once, Hilda Wade + flitted up with her brisk step to the corner where I was sitting. “Oh, Dr. + Cumberledge,” she began, as if nothing odd had occurred before, “I WAS so + glad to meet you and have a chance of talking to you, because I DO so want + to get a nurse's place at St. Nathaniel's.” + </p> + <p> + “A nurse's place!” I exclaimed, a little surprised, surveying her dress of + palest and softest Indian muslin; for she looked to me far too much of a + butterfly for such serious work. “Do you really mean it; or are you one of + the ten thousand modern young ladies who are in quest of a Mission, + without understanding that Missions are unpleasant? Nursing, I can tell + you, is not all crimped cap and becoming uniform.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” she answered, growing grave. “I ought to know it. I am a + nurse already at St. George's Hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a nurse! And at St. George's! Yet you want to change to + Nathaniel's? Why? St. George's is in a much nicer part of London, and the + patients there come on an average from a much better class than ours in + Smithfield.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that too; but... Sebastian is at St. Nathaniel's—and I want + to be near Sebastian.” + </p> + <p> + “Professor Sebastian!” I cried, my face lighting up with a gleam of + enthusiasm at our great teacher's name. “Ah, if it is to be under + Sebastian that you desire, I can see you mean business. I know now you + are in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “In earnest?” she echoed, that strange deeper shade coming over her face + as she spoke, while her tone altered. “Yes, I think I am in earnest! It is + my object in life to be near Sebastian—to watch him and observe him. + I mean to succeed.... But I have given you my confidence, perhaps too + hastily, and I must implore you not to mention my wish to him.” + </p> + <p> + “You may trust me implicitly,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; I saw that,” she put in, with a quick gesture. “Of course, I saw + by your face you were a man of honour—a man one could trust or I + would not have spoken to you. But—you promise me?” + </p> + <p> + “I promise you,” I replied, naturally flattered. She was delicately + pretty, and her quaint, oracular air, so incongruous with the dainty face + and the fluffy brown hair, piqued me not a little. That special mysterious + commodity of CHARM seemed to pervade all she did and said. So I added: + “And I will mention to Sebastian that you wish for a nurse's place at + Nathaniel's. As you have had experience, and can be recommended, I + suppose, by Le Geyt's sister,” with whom she had come, “no doubt you can + secure an early vacancy.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks so much,” she answered, with that delicious smile. It had an + infantile simplicity about it which contrasted most piquantly with her + prophetic manner. + </p> + <p> + “Only,” I went on, assuming a confidential tone, “you really MUST tell me + why you said that just now about Hugo Le Geyt. Recollect, your Delphian + utterances have gravely astonished and disquieted me. Hugo is one of my + oldest and dearest friends; and I want to know why you have formed this + sudden bad opinion of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Not of HIM, but of HER,” she answered, to my surprise, taking a small + Norwegian dagger from the what-not and playing with it to distract + attention. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, now,” I cried, drawing back. “You are trying to mystify me. + This is deliberate seer-mongery. You are presuming on your powers. But I + am not the sort of man to be caught by horoscopes. I decline to believe + it.” + </p> + <p> + She turned on me with a meaning glance. Those truthful eyes fixed me. “I + am going from here straight to my hospital,” she murmured, with a quiet + air of knowledge—talking, I mean to say, like one who really knows. + “This room is not the place to discuss this matter, is it? If you will + walk back to St. George's with me, I think I can make you see and feel + that I am speaking, not at haphazard, but from observation and + experience.” + </p> + <p> + Her confidence roused my most vivid curiosity. When she left I left with + her. The Le Geyts lived in one of those new streets of large houses on + Campden Hill, so that our way eastward lay naturally through Kensington + Gardens. + </p> + <p> + It was a sunny June day, when light pierced even through the smoke of + London, and the shrubberies breathed the breath of white lilacs. “Now, + what did you mean by that enigmatical saying?” I asked my new Cassandra, + as we strolled down the scent-laden path. “Woman's intuition is all very + well in its way; but a mere man may be excused if he asks for evidence.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped short as I spoke, and gazed full into my eyes. Her hand + fingered her parasol handle. “I meant what I said,” she answered, with + emphasis. “Within one year, Mr. Le Geyt will have murdered his wife. You + may take my word, for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Le Geyt!” I cried. “Never! I know the man so well! A big, good-natured, + kindly schoolboy! He is the gentlest and best of mortals. Le Geyt a + murderer! Im—possible!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were far away. “Has it never occurred to you,” she asked, slowly, + with her pythoness air, “that there are murders and murders?—murders + which depend in the main upon the murderer... and also murders which + depend in the main upon the victim?” + </p> + <p> + “The victim? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there are brutal men who commit murder out of sheer brutality—the + ruffians of the slums; and there are sordid men who commit murder for + sordid money—the insurers who want to forestall their policies, the + poisoners who want to inherit property; but have you ever realised that + there are also murderers who become so by accident, through their victims' + idiosyncrasy? I thought all the time while I was watching Mrs. Le Geyt, + 'That woman is of the sort predestined to be murdered.'... And when you + asked me, I told you so. I may have been imprudent; still, I saw it, and I + said it.” + </p> + <p> + “But this is second sight!” I cried, drawing away. “Do you pretend to + prevision?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not second sight; nothing uncanny, nothing supernatural. But + prevision, yes; prevision based, not on omens or auguries, but on solid + fact—on what I have seen and noticed.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself, oh, prophetess!” + </p> + <p> + She let the point of her parasol make a curved trail on the gravel, and + followed its serpentine wavings with her eyes. “You know our house + surgeon?” she asked at last, looking up of a sudden. + </p> + <p> + “What, Travers? Oh, intimately.” + </p> + <p> + “Then come to my ward and see. After you have seen, you will perhaps + believe me.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing that I could say would get any further explanation out of her just + then. “You would laugh at me if I told you,” she persisted; “you won't + laugh when you have seen it.” + </p> + <p> + We walked on in silence as far as Hyde Park Corner. There my Sphinx + tripped lightly up the steps of St. George's Hospital. “Get Mr. Travers's + leave,” she said, with a nod, and a bright smile, “to visit Nurse Wade's + ward. Then come up to me there in five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + I explained to my friend the house surgeon that I wished to see certain + cases in the accident ward of which I had heard; he smiled a restrained + smile—“Nurse Wade, no doubt!” but, of course, gave me permission to + go up and look at them. “Stop a minute,” he added, “and I'll come with + you.” When we got there, my witch had already changed her dress, and was + waiting for us demurely in the neat dove-coloured gown and smooth white + apron of the hospital nurses. She looked even prettier and more meaningful + so than in her ethereal outside summer-cloud muslin. + </p> + <p> + “Come over to this bed,” she said at once to Travers and myself, without + the least air of mystery. “I will show you what I mean by it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nurse Wade has remarkable insight,” Travers whispered to me as we went. + </p> + <p> + “I can believe it,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Look at this woman,” she went on, aside, in a low voice—“no, NOT + the first bed; the one beyond it; Number 60. I don't want the patient to + know you are watching her. Do you observe anything odd about her + appearance?” + </p> + <p> + “She is somewhat the same type,” I began, “as Mrs.—” + </p> + <p> + Before I could get out the words “Le Geyt,” her warning eye and puckering + forehead had stopped me. “As the lady we were discussing,” she interposed, + with a quiet wave of one hand. “Yes, in some points very much so. You + notice in particular her scanty hair—so thin and poor—though + she is young and good-looking?” + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly rather a feeble crop for a woman of her age,” I admitted. + “And pale at that, and washy.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. It's done up behind about as big as a nutmeg.... Now, observe + the contour of her back as she sits up there; it is curiously curved, + isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Very,” I replied. “Not exactly a stoop, nor yet quite a hunch, but + certainly an odd spinal configuration.” + </p> + <p> + “Like our friend's, once more?” + </p> + <p> + “Like our friend's, exactly!” + </p> + <p> + Hilda Wade looked away, lest she should attract the patient's attention. + “Well, that woman was brought in here, half-dead, assaulted by her + husband,” she went on, with a note of unobtrusive demonstration. + </p> + <p> + “We get a great many such cases,” Travers put in, with true medical + unconcern, “very interesting cases; and Nurse Wade has pointed out to me + the singular fact that in almost all instances the patients resemble one + another physically.” + </p> + <p> + “Incredible!” I cried. “I can understand that there might well be a type + of men who assault their wives, but not, surely, a type of women who get + assaulted.” + </p> + <p> + “That is because you know less about it than Nurse Wade,” Travers + answered, with an annoying smile of superior knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Our instructress moved on to another bed, laying one gentle hand as she + passed on a patient's forehead. The patient glanced gratitude. “That one + again,” she said once more, half indicating a cot at a little distance: + “Number 74. She has much the same thin hair—sparse, weak, and + colourless. She has much the same curved back, and much the same + aggressive, self-assertive features. Looks capable, doesn't she? A born + housewife!... Well, she, too, was knocked down and kicked half-dead the + other night by her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly odd,” I answered, “how very much they both recall—” + </p> + <p> + “Our friend at lunch! Yes, extraordinary. See here”; she pulled out a + pencil and drew the quick outline of a face in her note-book. “THAT is + what is central and essential to the type. They have THIS sort of profile. + Women with faces like that ALWAYS get assaulted.” + </p> + <p> + Travers glanced over her shoulder. “Quite true,” he assented, with his + bourgeois nod. “Nurse Wade in her time has shown me dozens of them. Round + dozens: bakers' dozens! They all belong to that species. In fact, when a + woman of this type is brought in to us wounded now, I ask at once, + 'Husband?' and the invariable answer comes pat: 'Well, yes, sir; we had + some words together.' The effect of words, my dear fellow, is something + truly surprising.” + </p> + <p> + “They can pierce like a dagger,” I mused. + </p> + <p> + “And leave an open wound behind that requires dressing,” Travers added, + unsuspecting. Practical man, Travers! + </p> + <p> + “But WHY do they get assaulted—the women of this type?” I asked, + still bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “Number 87 has her mother just come to see her,” my sorceress interposed. + “SHE'S an assault case; brought in last night; badly kicked and bruised + about the head and shoulders. Speak to the mother. She'll explain it all + to you.” + </p> + <p> + Travers and I moved over to the cot her hand scarcely indicated. “Well, + your daughter looks pretty comfortable this afternoon, in spite of the + little fuss,” Travers began, tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “Yus, she's a bit tidy, thanky,” the mother answered, smoothing her soiled + black gown, grown green with long service. “She'll git on naow, please + Gord. But Joe most did for 'er.” + </p> + <p> + “How did it all happen?” Travers asked, in a jaunty tone, to draw her out. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was like this, sir, yer see. My daughter, she's a lidy as keeps + 'erself TO 'erself, as the sayin' is, an' 'olds 'er 'ead up. She keeps up + a proper pride, an' minds 'er 'ouse an' 'er little uns. She ain't no + gadabaht. But she 'AVE a tongue, she 'ave”; the mother lowered her voice + cautiously, lest the “lidy” should hear. “I don't deny it that she 'AVE a + tongue, at times, through myself 'avin' suffered from it. And when she DO + go on, Lord bless you, why, there ain't no stoppin' of 'er.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she has a tongue, has she?” Travers replied, surveying the “case” + critically. “Well, you know, she looks like it.” + </p> + <p> + “So she do, sir; so she do. An' Joe, 'e's a man as wouldn't 'urt a biby—not + when 'e's sober, Joe wouldn't. But 'e'd bin aht; that's where it is; an' + 'e cum 'ome lite, a bit fresh, through 'avin' bin at the friendly lead; + an' my daughter, yer see, she up an' give it to 'im. My word, she DID give + it to 'im! An' Joe, 'e's a peaceable man when 'e ain't a bit fresh; 'e's + more like a friend to 'er than an 'usband, Joe is; but 'e lost 'is temper + that time, as yer may say, by reason o' bein' fresh, an' 'e knocked 'er + abaht a little, an' knocked 'er teeth aht. So we brought 'er to the + orspital.” + </p> + <p> + The injured woman raised herself up in bed with a vindictive scowl, + displaying as she did so the same whale-like curved back as in the other + “cases.” “But we've sent 'im to the lockup,” she continued, the scowl + giving way fast to a radiant joy of victory as she contemplated her + triumph “an' wot's more, I 'ad the last word of 'im. 'An 'e'll git six + month for this, the neighbours says; an' when he comes aht again, my Gord, + won't 'e ketch it!” + </p> + <p> + “You look capable of punishing him for it,” I answered, and as I spoke, I + shuddered; for I saw her expression was precisely the expression Mrs. Le + Geyt's face had worn for a passing second when her husband accidentally + trod on her dress as we left the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + My witch moved away. We followed. “Well, what do you say to it now?” she + asked, gliding among the beds with noiseless feet and ministering fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Say to it?” I answered. “That it is wonderful, wonderful. You have quite + convinced me.” + </p> + <p> + “You would think so,” Travers put in, “if you had been in this ward as + often as I have, and observed their faces. It's a dead certainty. Sooner + or later, that type of woman is cock-sure to be assaulted.” + </p> + <p> + “In a certain rank of life, perhaps,” I answered, still loth to believe + it; “but not surely in ours. Gentlemen do not knock down their wives and + kick their teeth out.” + </p> + <p> + My Sibyl smiled. “No; there class tells,” she admitted. “They take longer + about it, and suffer more provocation. They curb their tempers. But in the + end, one day, they are goaded beyond endurance; and then—a + convenient knife—a rusty old sword—a pair of scissors—anything + that comes handy, like that dagger this morning. One wild blow—half + unpremeditated—and... the thing is done! Twelve good men and true + will find it wilful murder.” + </p> + <p> + I felt really perturbed. “But can we do nothing,” I cried, “to warn poor + Hugo?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, I fear,” she answered. “After all, character must work itself + out in its interactions with character. He has married that woman, and he + must take the consequences. Does not each of us in life suffer perforce + the Nemesis of his own temperament?” + </p> + <p> + “Then is there not also a type of men who assault their wives?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the odd part of it—no. All kinds, good and bad, quick and + slow, can be driven to it at last. The quick-tempered stab or kick; the + slow devise some deliberate means of ridding themselves of their burden.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely we might caution Le Geyt of his danger!” + </p> + <p> + “It is useless. He would not believe us. We cannot be at his elbow to hold + back his hand when the bad moment comes. Nobody will be there, as a matter + of fact; for women of this temperament—born naggers, in short, since + that's what it comes to—when they are also ladies, graceful and + gracious as she is; never nag at all before outsiders. To the world, they + are bland; everybody says, 'What charming talkers!' They are 'angels + abroad, devils at home,' as the proverb puts it. Some night she will + provoke him when they are alone, till she has reached his utmost limit of + endurance—and then,” she drew one hand across her dove-like throat, + “it will be all finished.” + </p> + <p> + “You think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it. We human beings go straight like sheep to our natural + destiny.” + </p> + <p> + “But—that is fatalism.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not fatalism: insight into temperament. Fatalists believe that your + life is arranged for you beforehand from without; willy-nilly, you MUST + act so. I only believe that in this jostling world your life is mostly + determined by your own character, in its interaction with the characters + of those who surround you. Temperament works itself out. It is your own + acts and deeds that make up Fate for you.” + </p> + <p> + For some months after this meeting neither Hilda Wade nor I saw anything + more of the Le Geyts. They left town for Scotland at the end of the + season; and when all the grouse had been duly slaughtered and all the + salmon duly hooked, they went on to Leicestershire for the opening of + fox-hunting; so it was not till after Christmas that they returned to + Campden Hill. Meanwhile, I had spoken to Dr. Sebastian about Miss Wade, + and on my recommendation he had found her a vacancy at our hospital. “A + most intelligent girl, Cumberledge,” he remarked to me with a rare burst + of approval—for the Professor was always critical—after she + had been at work for some weeks at St. Nathaniel's. “I am glad you + introduced her here. A nurse with brains is such a valuable accessory—unless, + of course, she takes to THINKING. But Nurse Wade never THINKS; she is a + useful instrument—does what she's told, and carries out one's orders + implicitly.” + </p> + <p> + “She knows enough to know when she doesn't know,” I answered, “which is + really the rarest kind of knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “Unrecorded among young doctors!” the Professor retorted, with his + sardonic smile. “They think they understand the human body from top to + toe, when, in reality—well, they might do the measles!” + </p> + <p> + Early in January, I was invited again to lunch with the Le Geyts. Hilda + Wade was invited, too. The moment we entered the house, we were both of us + aware that some grim change had come over it. Le Geyt met us in the hall, + in his old genial style, it is true; but still with a certain reserve, a + curious veiled timidity which we had not known in him. Big and + good-humoured as he was, with kindly eyes beneath the shaggy eyebrows, he + seemed strangely subdued now; the boyish buoyancy had gone out of him. He + spoke rather lower than was his natural key, and welcomed us warmly, + though less effusively than of old. An irreproachable housemaid, in a + spotless cap, ushered us into the transfigured drawing-room. Mrs. Le Geyt, + in a pretty cloth dress, neatly tailor-made, rose to meet us, beaming the + vapid smile of the perfect hostess—that impartial smile which falls, + like the rain from Heaven, on good and bad indifferently. “SO charmed to + see you again, Dr. Cumberledge!” she bubbled out, with a cheerful air—she + was always cheerful, mechanically cheerful, from a sense of duty. “It IS + such a pleasure to meet dear Hugo's old friends! AND Miss Wade, too; how + delightful! You look so well, Miss Wade! Oh, you're both at St. + Nathaniel's now, aren't you? So you can come together. What a privilege + for you, Dr. Cumberledge, to have such a clever assistant—or, + rather, fellow-worker. It must be a great life, yours, Miss Wade; such a + sphere of usefulness! If we can only feel we are DOING GOOD—that is + the main matter. For my own part, I like to be mixed up with every good + work that's going on in my neighbourhood. I'm the soup-kitchen, you know, + and I'm visitor at the workhouse; and I'm the Dorcas Society, and the + Mutual Improvement Class; and the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and to + Children, and I'm sure I don't know how much else; so that, what with all + that, and what with dear Hugo and the darling children”—she glanced + affectionately at Maisie and Ettie, who sat bolt upright, very mute and + still, in their best and stiffest frocks, on two stools in the corner—“I + can hardly find time for my social duties.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear Mrs. Le Geyt,” one of her visitors said with effusion, from + beneath a nodding bonnet—she was the wife of a rural dean from + Staffordshire—“EVERYBODY is agreed that YOUR social duties are + performed to a marvel. They are the envy of Kensington. We all of us + wonder, indeed, how one woman can find time for all of it!” + </p> + <p> + Our hostess looked pleased. “Well, yes,” she answered, gazing down at her + fawn-coloured dress with a half-suppressed smile of self-satisfaction, “I + flatter myself I CAN get through about as much work in a day as anybody!” + Her eye wandered round her rooms with a modest air of placid self-approval + which was almost comic. Everything in them was as well-kept and as + well-polished as good servants, thoroughly drilled, could make it. Not a + stain or a speck anywhere. A miracle of neatness. Indeed, when I + carelessly drew the Norwegian dagger from its scabbard, as we waited for + lunch, and found that it stuck in the sheath, I almost started to discover + that rust could intrude into that orderly household. + </p> + <p> + I recollected then how Hilda Wade had pointed out to me during those six + months at St. Nathaniel's that the women whose husbands assaulted them + were almost always “notable housewives,” as they say in America—good + souls who prided themselves not a little on their skill in management. + They were capable, practical mothers of families, with a boundless belief + in themselves, a sincere desire to do their duty, as far as they + understood it, and a habit of impressing their virtues upon others which + was quite beyond all human endurance. Placidity was their note; provoking + placidity. I felt sure it must have been of a woman of this type that the + famous phrase was coined—“Elle a toutes les vertus—et elle est + insupportable.” + </p> + <p> + “Clara, dear,” the husband said, “shall we go in to lunch?” + </p> + <p> + “You dear, stupid boy! Are we not all waiting for YOU to give your arm to + Lady Maitland?” + </p> + <p> + The lunch was perfect, and it was perfectly served. The silver glowed; the + linen was marked with H. C. Le G. in a most artistic monogram. I noticed + that the table decorations were extremely pretty. Somebody complimented + our hostess upon them. Mrs. Le Geyt nodded and smiled—“<i>I</i> + arranged them. Dear Hugo, in his blundering way—the big darling—forgot + to get me the orchids I had ordered. So I had to make shift with what few + things our own wee conservatory afforded. Still, with a little taste and a + little ingenuity—” She surveyed her handiwork with just pride, and + left the rest to our imaginations. + </p> + <p> + “Only you ought to explain, Clara—” Le Geyt began, in a deprecatory + tone. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you darling old bear, we won't harp on that twice-told tale again,” + Clara interrupted, with a knowing smile. “Point da rechauffes! Let us + leave one another's misdeeds and one another's explanations for their + proper sphere—the family circle. The orchids did NOT turn up, that + is the point; and I managed to make shift with the plumbago and the + geraniums. Maisie, my sweet, NOT that pudding, IF you please; too rich for + you, darling. I know your digestive capacities better than you do. I have + told you fifty times it doesn't agree with you. A small slice of the other + one!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mamma,” Maisie answered, with a cowed and cowering air. I felt sure + she would have murmured, “Yes, mamma,” in the selfsame tone if the second + Mrs. Le Geyt had ordered her to hang herself. + </p> + <p> + “I saw you out in the park, yesterday, on your bicycle, Ettie,” Le Geyt's + sister, Mrs. Mallet, put in. “But do you know, dear, I didn't think your + jacket was half warm enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma doesn't like me to wear a warmer one,” the child answered, with a + visible shudder of recollection, “though I should love to, Aunt Lina.” + </p> + <p> + “My precious Ettie, what nonsense—for a violent exercise like + bicycling! Where one gets so hot! So unbecomingly hot! You'd be simply + stifled, darling.” I caught a darted glance which accompanied the words + and which made Ettie recoil into the recesses of her pudding. + </p> + <p> + “But yesterday was so cold, Clara,” Mrs. Mallet went on, actually + venturing to oppose the infallible authority. “A nipping morning. And such + a flimsy coat! Might not the dear child be allowed to judge for herself in + a matter purely of her own feelings?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Le Geyt, with just the shadow of a shrug, was all sweet + reasonableness. She smiled more suavely than ever. “Surely, Lina,” she + remonstrated, in her frankest and most convincing tone, “<i>I</i> must + know best what is good for dear Ettie, when I have been watching her daily + for more than six months past, and taking the greatest pains to understand + both her constitution and her disposition. She needs hardening, Ettie + does. Hardening. Don't you agree with me, Hugo?” + </p> + <p> + Le Geyt shuffled uneasily in his chair. Big man as he was, with his great + black beard and manly bearing, I could see he was afraid to differ from + her overtly. “Well,—m—perhaps, Clara,” he began, peering from + under the shaggy eyebrows, “it would be best for a delicate child like + Ettie—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Le Geyt smiled a compassionate smile. “Ah, I forgot,” she cooed, + sweetly. “Dear Hugo never CAN understand the upbringing of children. It is + a sense denied him. We women know”—with a sage nod. “They were wild + little savages when I took them in hand first—weren't you, Maisie? + Do you remember, dear, how you broke the looking-glass in the boudoir, + like an untamed young monkey? Talking of monkeys, Mr. Cotswould, HAVE you + seen those delightful, clever, amusing French pictures at that place in + Suffolk Street? There's a man there—a Parisian—I forget his + honoured name—Leblanc, or Lenoir, or Lebrun, or something—but + he's a most humorous artist, and he paints monkeys and storks and all + sorts of queer beasties ALMOST as quaintly and expressively as you do. + Mind, I say ALMOST, for I never will allow that any Frenchman could do + anything QUITE so good, quite so funnily mock-human, as your marabouts and + professors.” + </p> + <p> + “What a charming hostess Mrs. Le Geyt makes,” the painter observed to me, + after lunch. “Such tact! Such discrimination!... AND, what a devoted + stepmother!” + </p> + <p> + “She is one of the local secretaries of the Society for the Prevention of + Cruelty to Children,” I said, drily. + </p> + <p> + “And charity begins at home,” Hilda Wade added, in a significant aside. + </p> + <p> + We walked home together as far as Stanhope Gate. Our sense of doom + oppressed us. “And yet,” I said, turning to her, as we left the doorstep, + “I don't doubt Mrs. Le Geyt really believes she IS a model stepmother!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course she believes it,” my witch answered. “She has no more doubt + about that than about anything else. Doubts are not in her line. She does + everything exactly as it ought to be done—who should know, if not + she?—and therefore she is never afraid of criticism. Hardening, + indeed! that poor slender, tender, shrinking little Ettie! A frail exotic. + She would harden her into a skeleton if she had her way. Nothing's much + harder than a skeleton, I suppose, except Mrs. Le Geyt's manner of + training one.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be sorry to think,” I broke in, “that that sweet little floating + thistle-down of a child I once knew was to be done to death by her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as for that, she will NOT be done to death,” Hilda answered, in her + confident way. “Mrs. Le Geyt won't live long enough.” + </p> + <p> + I started. “You think not?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think, I am sure of it. We are at the fifth act now. I watched + Mr. Le Geyt closely all through lunch, and I'm more confident than ever + that the end is coming. He is temporarily crushed; but he is like steam in + a boiler, seething, seething, seething. One day she will sit on the + safety-valve, and the explosion will come. When it comes”—she raised + aloft one quick hand in the air as if striking a dagger home—“good-bye + to her!” + </p> + <p> + For the next few months I saw much of Le Geyt; and the more I saw of him, + the more I saw that my witch's prognosis was essentially correct. They + never quarrelled; but Mrs. Le Geyt, in her unobtrusive way, held a quiet + hand over her husband which became increasingly apparent. In the midst of + her fancy-work (those busy fingers were never idle) she kept her eyes well + fixed on him. Now and again I saw him glance at his motherless girls with + what looked like a tender, protecting regret; especially when “Clara” had + been most openly drilling them; but he dared not interfere. She was + crushing their spirit, as she was crushing their father's—and all, + bear in mind, for the best of motives! She had their interest at heart; + she wanted to do what was right for them. Her manner to him and to them + was always honey-sweet—in all externals; yet one could somehow feel + it was the velvet glove that masked the iron hand; not cruel, not harsh + even, but severely, irresistibly, unflinchingly crushing. “Ettie, my dear, + get your brown hat at once. What's that? Going to rain? I did not ask you, + my child, for YOUR opinion on the weather. My own suffices. A headache? + Oh, nonsense! Headaches are caused by want of exercise. Nothing so good + for a touch of headache as a nice brisk walk in Kensington Gardens. + Maisie, don't hold your sister's hand like that; it is imitation sympathy! + You are aiding and abetting her in setting my wishes at naught. Now, no + long faces! What <i>I</i> require is CHEERFUL obedience.” + </p> + <p> + A bland, autocratic martinet: smiling, inexorable! Poor, pale Ettie grew + thinner and wanner under her law daily, while Maisie's temper, naturally + docile, was being spoiled before one's eyes by persistent, needless + thwarting. + </p> + <p> + As spring came on, however, I began to hope that things were really + mending. Le Geyt looked brighter; some of his own careless, happy-go-lucky + self came back again at intervals. He told me once, with a wistful sigh, + that he thought of sending the children to school in the country—it + would be better for them, he said, and would take a little work off dear + Clara's shoulders; for never even to me was he disloyal to Clara. I + encouraged him in the idea. He went on to say that the great difficulty in + the way was... Clara. She was SO conscientious; she thought it her duty to + look after the children herself, and couldn't bear to delegate any part of + that duty to others. Besides, she had such an excellent opinion of the + Kensington High School! + </p> + <p> + When I told Hilda Wade of this, she set her teeth together and answered at + once: “That settles it! The end is very near. HE will insist upon their + going, to save them from that woman's ruthless kindness; and SHE will + refuse to give up any part of what she calls her duty. HE will reason with + her; he will plead for his children; SHE will be adamant. Not angry—it + is never the way of that temperament to get angry—just calmly, + sedately, and insupportably provoking. When she goes too far, he will + flare up at last; some taunt will rouse him; the explosion will come; + and... the children will go to their Aunt Lina, whom they dote upon. When + all is said and done, it is the poor man I pity!” + </p> + <p> + “You said within twelve months.” + </p> + <p> + “That was a bow drawn at a venture. It may be a little sooner; it may be a + little later. But—next week or next month—it is coming: it is + coming!” + </p> + <p> + June smiled upon us once more; and on the afternoon of the 13th, the + anniversary of our first lunch together at the Le Geyts, I was up at my + work in the accident ward at St. Nathaniel's. “Well, the ides of June have + come, Sister Wade!” I said, when I met her, parodying Caesar. + </p> + <p> + “But not yet gone,” she answered; and a profound sense of foreboding + spread over her speaking face as she uttered the words. + </p> + <p> + Her oracle disquieted me. “Why, I dined there last night,” I cried; “and + all seemed exceptionally well.” + </p> + <p> + “The calm before the storm, perhaps,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + Just at that moment I heard a boy crying in the street: “Pall mall + Gazette; 'ere y'are; speshul edishun! Shocking tragedy at the West-end! + Orful murder! 'Ere y'are! Spechul Globe! Pall Mall, extry speshul!” + </p> + <p> + A weird tremor broke over me. I walked down into the street and bought a + paper. There it stared me in the face on the middle page: “Tragedy at + Campden Hill: Well-known Barrister Murders his Wife. Sensational Details.” + </p> + <p> + I looked closer and read. It was as I feared. The Le Geyts! After I left + their house, the night before, husband and wife must have quarrelled, no + doubt over the question of the children's schooling; and at some provoking + word, as it seemed, Hugo must have snatched up a knife—“a little + ornamental Norwegian dagger,” the report said, “which happened to lie + close by on the cabinet in the drawing-room,” and plunged it into his + wife's heart. “The unhappy lady died instantaneously, by all appearances, + and the dastardly crime was not discovered by the servants till eight + o'clock this morning. Mr. Le Geyt is missing.” + </p> + <p> + I rushed up with the news to Nurse Wade, who was at work in the accident + ward. She turned pale, but bent over her patient and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “It is fearful to think!” I groaned out at last; “for us who know all—that + poor Le Geyt will be hanged for it! Hanged for attempting to protect his + children!” + </p> + <p> + “He will NOT be hanged,” my witch answered, with the same unquestioning + confidence as ever. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” I asked, astonished once more at this bold prediction. + </p> + <p> + She went on bandaging the arm of the patient whom she was attending. + “Because... he will commit suicide,” she replied, without moving a muscle. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + She stuck a steel safety-pin with deft fingers into the roll of lint. + “When I have finished my day's work,” she answered slowly, still + continuing the bandage, “I may perhaps find time to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT COMMIT SUICIDE + </h3> + <p> + After my poor friend Le Geyt had murdered his wife, in a sudden access of + uncontrollable anger, under the deepest provocation, the police naturally + began to inquire for him. It is a way they have; the police are no + respecters of persons; neither do they pry into the question of motives. + They are but poor casuists. A murder is for them a murder, and a murderer + a murderer; it is not their habit to divide and distinguish between case + and case with Hilda Wade's analytical accuracy. + </p> + <p> + As soon as my duties at St. Nathaniel's permitted me, on the evening of + the discovery, I rushed round to Mrs. Mallet's, Le Geyt's sister. I had + been detained at the hospital for some hours, however, watching a critical + case; and by the time I reached Great Stanhope Street I found Hilda Wade, + in her nurse's dress, there before me. Sebastian, it seemed, had given her + leave out for the evening. She was a supernumerary nurse, attached to his + own observation-cots as special attendant for scientific purposes, and she + could generally get an hour or so whenever she required it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallet had been in the breakfast-room with Hilda before I arrived; + but as I reached the house she rushed upstairs to wash her red eyes and + compose herself a little before the strain of meeting me; so I had the + opportunity for a few words alone first with my prophetic companion. + </p> + <p> + “You said just now at Nathaniel's,” I burst out, “that Le Geyt would not + be hanged: he would commit suicide. What did you mean by that? What reason + had you for thinking so?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda sank into a chair by the open window, pulled a flower abstractedly + from the vase at her side, and began picking it to pieces, floret after + floret, with twitching fingers. She was deeply moved. “Well, consider his + family history,” she burst out at last, looking up at me with her large + brown eyes as she reached the last petal. “Heredity counts.... And after + such a disaster!” + </p> + <p> + She said “disaster,” not “crime”; I noted mentally the reservation implied + in the word. + </p> + <p> + “Heredity counts,” I answered. “Oh, yes. It counts much. But what about Le + Geyt's family history?” I could not recall any instance of suicide among + his forbears. + </p> + <p> + “Well—his mother's father was General Faskally, you know,” she + replied, after a pause, in her strange, oblique manner. “Mr. Le Geyt is + General Faskally's eldest grandson.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” I broke in, with a man's desire for solid fact in place of + vague intuition. “But I fail to see quite what that has to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + “The General was killed in India during the Mutiny.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember, of course—killed, bravely fighting.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but it was on a forlorn hope, for which he volunteered, and in the + course of which he is said to have walked straight into an almost obvious + ambuscade of the enemy's.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear Miss Wade”—I always dropped the title of “Nurse,” by + request, when once we were well clear of Nathaniel's,—“I have every + confidence, you are aware, in your memory and your insight; but I do + confess I fail to see what bearing this incident can have on poor Hugo's + chances of being hanged or committing suicide.” + </p> + <p> + She picked a second flower, and once more pulled out petal after petal. As + she reached the last again, she answered, slowly: “You must have forgotten + the circumstances. It was no mere accident. General Faskally had made a + serious strategical blunder at Jhansi. He had sacrificed the lives of his + subordinates needlessly. He could not bear to face the survivors. In the + course of the retreat, he volunteered to go on this forlorn hope, which + might equally well have been led by an officer of lower rank; and he was + permitted to do so by Sir Colin in command, as a means of retrieving his + lost military character. He carried his point, but he carried it + recklessly, taking care to be shot through the heart himself in the first + onslaught. That was virtual suicide—honourable suicide to avoid + disgrace, at a moment of supreme remorse and horror.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” I admitted, after a minute's consideration. “I see it now—though + I should never have thought of it.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the use of being a woman,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + I waited a second once more, and mused. “Still, that is only one doubtful + case,” I objected. + </p> + <p> + “There was another, you must remember: his uncle Alfred.” + </p> + <p> + “Alfred Le Geyt?” + </p> + <p> + “No; HE died in his bed, quietly. Alfred Faskally.” + </p> + <p> + “What a memory you have!” I cried, astonished. “Why, that was before our + time—in the days of the Chartist riots!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled a certain curious sibylline smile of hers. Her earnest face + looked prettier than ever. “I told you I could remember many things that + happened before I was born,” she answered. “THIS is one of them.” + </p> + <p> + “You remember it directly?” + </p> + <p> + “How impossible! Have I not often explained to you that I am no diviner? I + read no book of fate; I call no spirits from the vasty deep. I simply + remember with exceptional clearness what I read and hear. And I have many + times heard the story about Alfred Faskally.” + </p> + <p> + “So have I—but I forget it.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, I CAN'T forget. That is a sort of disease with me.... He + was a special constable in the Chartist riots; and being a very strong and + powerful man, like his nephew Hugo, he used his truncheon—his + special constable's baton, or whatever you call it—with excessive + force upon a starveling London tailor in the mob near Charing Cross. The + man was hit on the forehead—badly hit, so that he died almost + immediately of concussion of the brain. A woman rushed out of the crowd at + once, seized the dying man, laid his head on her lap, and shrieked out in + a wildly despairing voice that he was her husband, and the father of + thirteen children. Alfred Faskally, who never meant to kill the man, or + even to hurt him, but who was laying about him roundly, without realising + the terrific force of his blows, was so horrified at what he had done when + he heard the woman's cry, that he rushed off straight to Waterloo Bridge + in an agony of remorse and—flung himself over. He was drowned + instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “I recall the story now,” I answered; “but, do you know, as it was told + me, I think they said the mob THREW Faskally over in their desire for + vengeance.” + </p> + <p> + “That is the official account, as told by the Le Geyts and the Faskallys; + they like to have it believed their kinsman was murdered, not that he + committed suicide. But my grandfather”—I started; during the twelve + months that I had been brought into daily relations with Hilda Wade, that + was the first time I had heard her mention any member of her own family, + except once her mother—“my grandfather, who knew him well, and who + was present in the crowd at the time, assured me many times that Alfred + Faskally really jumped over of his own accord, NOT pursued by the mob, and + that his last horrified words as he leaped were, 'I never meant it! I + never meant it!' However, the family have always had luck in their + suicides. The jury believed the throwing-over story, and found a verdict + of 'wilful murder' against some person or persons unknown.” + </p> + <p> + “Luck in their suicides! What a curious phrase! And you say, ALWAYS. Were + there other cases, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Constructively, yes; one of the Le Geyts, you must recollect, went down + with his ship (just like his uncle, the General, in India) when he might + have quitted her. It is believed he had given a mistaken order. You + remember, of course, he was navigating lieutenant. Another, Marcus, was + SAID to have shot himself by accident while cleaning his gun—after a + quarrel with his wife. But you have heard all about it. 'The wrong was on + my side,' he moaned, you know, when they picked him up, dying, in the + gun-room. And one of the Faskally girls, his cousin, of whom his wife was + jealous—that beautiful Linda—became a Catholic, and went into + a convent at once on Marcus's death; which, after all, in such cases, is + merely a religious and moral way of committing suicide—I mean, for a + woman who takes the veil just to cut herself off from the world, and who + has no vocation, as I hear she had not.” + </p> + <p> + She filled me with amazement. “That is true,” I exclaimed, “when one comes + to think of it. It shows the same temperament in fibre.... But I should + never have thought of it.” + </p> + <p> + “No? Well, I believe it is true, for all that. In every case, one sees + they choose much the same way of meeting a reverse, a blunder, an + unpremeditated crime. The brave way is to go through with it, and face the + music, letting what will come; the cowardly way is to hide one's head + incontinently in a river, a noose, or a convent cell.” + </p> + <p> + “Le Geyt is not a coward,” I interposed, with warmth. + </p> + <p> + “No, not, a coward—a manly spirited, great-hearted gentleman—but + still, not quite of the bravest type. He lacks one element. The Le Geyts + have physical courage—enough and to spare—but their moral + courage fails them at a pinch. They rush into suicide or its equivalent at + critical moments, out of pure boyish impulsiveness.” + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later, Mrs. Mallet came in. She was not broken down—on + the contrary, she was calm—stoically, tragically, pitiably calm; + with that ghastly calmness which is more terrible by far than the most + demonstrative grief. Her face, though deadly white, did not move a muscle. + Not a tear was in her eyes. Even her bloodless hands hardly twitched at + the folds of her hastily assumed black gown. She clenched them after a + minute when she had grasped mine silently; I could see that the nails dug + deep into the palms in her painful resolve to keep herself from + collapsing. + </p> + <p> + Hilda Wade, with infinite sisterly tenderness, led her over to a chair by + the window in the summer twilight, and took one quivering hand in hers. “I + have been telling Dr. Cumberledge, Lina, about what I most fear for your + dear brother, darling; and... I think... he agrees with me.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallet turned to me, with hollow eyes, still preserving her tragic + calm. “I am afraid of it, too,” she said, her drawn lips tremulous. “Dr. + Cumberledge, we must get him back! We must induce him to face it!” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” I answered, slowly, turning it over in my own mind; “he has run + away at first. Why should he do that if he means—to commit suicide?” + I hated to utter the words before that broken soul; but there was no way + out of it. + </p> + <p> + Hilda interrupted me with a quiet suggestion. “How do you know he has run + away?” she asked. “Are you not taking it for granted that, if he meant + suicide, he would blow his brains out in his own house? But surely that + would not be the Le Geyt way. They are gentle-natured folk; they would + never blow their brains out or cut their throats. For all we know, he may + have made straight for Waterloo Bridge,”—she framed her lips to the + unspoken words, unseen by Mrs. Mallet,—“like his uncle Alfred.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” I answered, lip-reading. “I never thought of that either.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, I do not attach importance to this idea,” she went on. “I have + some reason for thinking he has run away... elsewhere; and if so, our + first task must be to entice him back again.” + </p> + <p> + “What are your reasons?” I asked, humbly. Whatever they might be, I knew + enough of Hilda Wade by this time to know that she had probably good + grounds for accepting them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they may wait for the present,” she answered. “Other things are more + pressing. First, let Lina tell us what she thinks of most moment.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallet braced herself up visibly to a distressing effort. “You have + seen the body, Dr. Cumberledge?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “No, dear Mrs. Mallet, I have not. I came straight from Nathaniel's. I + have had no time to see it.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Sebastian has viewed it by my wish—he has been so kind—and + he will be present as representing the family at the post-mortem. He notes + that the wound was inflicted with a dagger—a small ornamental + Norwegian dagger, which always lay, as I know, on the little what-not by + the blue sofa.” + </p> + <p> + I nodded assent. “Exactly; I have seen it there.” + </p> + <p> + “It was blunt and rusty—a mere toy knife—not at all the sort + of weapon a man would make use of who designed to commit a deliberate + murder. The crime, if there WAS a crime (which we do not admit), must + therefore have been wholly unpremeditated.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed my head. “For us who knew Hugo that goes without saying.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned forward eagerly. “Dr. Sebastian has pointed out to me a line of + defence which would probably succeed—if we could only induce poor + Hugo to adopt it. He has examined the blade and scabbard, and finds that + the dagger fits its sheath very tight, so that it can only be withdrawn + with considerable violence. The blade sticks.” (I nodded again.) “It needs + a hard pull to wrench it out.... He has also inspected the wound, and + assures me its character is such that it MIGHT have been self-inflicted.” + She paused now and again, and brought out her words with difficulty. + “Self-inflicted, he suggests; therefore, that THIS may have happened. It + is admitted—WILL be admitted—the servants overheard it—we + can make no reservation there—a difference of opinion, an + altercation, even, took place between Hugo and Clara that evening”—she + started suddenly—“why, it was only last night—it seems like + ages—an altercation about the children's schooling. Clara held + strong views on the subject of the children”—her eyes blinked hard—“which + Hugo did not share. We throw out the hint, then, that Clara, during the + course of the dispute—we must call it a dispute—accidentally + took up this dagger and toyed with it. You know her habit of toying, when + she had no knitting or needlework. In the course of playing with it (we + suggest) she tried to pull the knife out of its sheath; failed; held it + up, so, point upward; pulled again; pulled harder—with a jerk, at + last the sheath came off; the dagger sprang up; it wounded Clara fatally. + Hugo, knowing that they had disagreed, knowing that the servants had + heard, and seeing her fall suddenly dead before him, was seized with + horror—the Le Geyt impulsiveness!—lost his head; rushed out; + fancied the accident would be mistaken for murder. But why? A Q.C., don't + you know! Recently married! Most attached to his wife. It is plausible, + isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “So plausible,” I answered, looking it straight in the face, “that... it + has but one weak point. We might make a coroner's jury or even a common + jury accept it, on Sebastian's expert evidence. Sebastian can work + wonders; but we could never make—” + </p> + <p> + Hilda Wade finished the sentence for me as I paused: “Hugo Le Geyt consent + to advance it.” + </p> + <p> + I lowered my head. “You have said it,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Not for the children's sake?” Mrs. Mallet cried, with clasped hands. + </p> + <p> + “Not for the children's sake, even,” I answered. “Consider for a moment, + Mrs. Mallet: IS it true? Do you yourself BELIEVE it?” + </p> + <p> + She threw herself back in her chair with a dejected face. “Oh, as for + that,” she cried, wearily, crossing her hands, “before you and Hilda, who + know all, what need to prevaricate? How CAN I believe it? We understand + how it came about. That woman! That woman!” + </p> + <p> + “The real wonder is,” Hilda murmured, soothing her white hand, “that he + contained himself so long!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we all know Hugo,” I went on, as quietly as I was able; “and, + knowing Hugo, we know that he might be urged to commit this wild act in a + fierce moment of indignation—righteous indignation on behalf of his + motherless girls, under tremendous provocation. But we also know that, + having once committed it, he would never stoop to disown it by a + subterfuge.” + </p> + <p> + The heart-broken sister let her head drop faintly. “So Hilda told me,” she + murmured; “and what Hilda says in these matters is almost always final.” + </p> + <p> + We debated the question for some minutes more. Then Mrs. Mallet cried at + last: “At any rate, he has fled for the moment, and his flight alone + brings the worst suspicion upon him. That is our chief point. We must find + out where he is; and if he has gone right away, we must bring him back to + London.” + </p> + <p> + “Where do you think he has taken refuge?” + </p> + <p> + “The police, Dr. Sebastian has ascertained, are watching the railway + stations, and the ports for the Continent.” + </p> + <p> + “Very like the police!” Hilda exclaimed, with more than a touch of + contempt in her voice. “As if a clever man-of-the-world like Hugo Le Geyt + would run away by rail, or start off to the Continent! Every Englishman is + noticeable on the Continent. It would be sheer madness!” + </p> + <p> + “You think he has not gone there, then?” I cried, deeply interested. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. That is the point I hinted at just now. He has defended + many persons accused of murder, and he often spoke to me of their + incredible folly, when trying to escape, in going by rail, or in setting + out from England for Paris. An Englishman, he used to say, is least + observed in his own country. In this case, I think I KNOW where he has + gone, how he went there.” + </p> + <p> + “Where, then?” + </p> + <p> + “WHERE comes last; HOW first. It is a question of inference.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain. We know your powers.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I take it for granted that he killed her—we must not mince + matters—about twelve o'clock; for after that hour, the servants told + Lina, there was quiet in the drawing-room. Next, I conjecture, he went + upstairs to change his clothes: he could not go forth on the world in an + evening suit; and the housemaid says his black coat and trousers were + lying as usual on a chair in his dressing-room—which shows at least + that he was not unduly flurried. After that, he put on another suit, no + doubt—WHAT suit I hope the police will not discover too soon; for I + suppose you must just accept the situation that we are conspiring to + defeat the ends of justice.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” Mrs. Mallet cried. “To bring him back voluntarily, that he may + face his trial like a man!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear. That is quite right. However, the next thing, of course, would + be that he would shave in whole or in part. His big black beard was so + very conspicuous; he would certainly get rid of that before attempting to + escape. The servants being in bed, he was not pressed for time; he had the + whole night before him. So, of course, he shaved. On the other hand, the + police, you may be sure, will circulate his photograph—we must not + shirk these points”—for Mrs. Mallet winced again—“will + circulate his photograph, BEARD AND ALL; and that will really be one of + our great safeguards; for the bushy beard so masks the face that, without + it, Hugo would be scarcely recognisable. I conclude, therefore, that he + must have shorn himself BEFORE leaving home; though naturally I did not + make the police a present of the hint by getting Lina to ask any questions + in that direction of the housemaid.” + </p> + <p> + “You are probably right,” I answered. “But would he have a razor?” + </p> + <p> + “I was coming to that. No; certainly he would not. He had not shaved for + years. And they kept no men-servants; which makes it difficult for him to + borrow one from a sleeping man. So what he would do would doubtless be to + cut off his beard, or part of it, quite close, with a pair of scissors, + and then get himself properly shaved next morning in the first country + town he came to.” + </p> + <p> + “The first country town?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. That leads up to the next point. We must try to be cool and + collected.” She was quivering with suppressed emotion herself, as she said + it, but her soothing hand still lay on Mrs. Mallet's. “The next thing is—he + would leave London.” + </p> + <p> + “But not by rail, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “He is an intelligent man, and in the course of defending others has + thought about this matter. Why expose himself to the needless risk and + observation of a railway station? No; I saw at once what he would do. + Beyond doubt, he would cycle. He always wondered it was not done oftener, + under similar circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “But has his bicycle gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Lina looked. It has not. I should have expected as much. I told her to + note that point very unobtrusively, so as to avoid giving the police the + clue. She saw the machine in the outer hall as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “He is too good a criminal lawyer to have dreamt of taking his own,” Mrs. + Mallet interposed, with another effort. + </p> + <p> + “But where could he have hired or bought one at that time of night?” I + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere—without exciting the gravest suspicion. Therefore, I + conclude, he stopped in London for the night, sleeping at an hotel, + without luggage, and paying for his room in advance. It is frequently + done, and if he arrived late, very little notice would be taken of him. + Big hotels about the Strand, I am told, have always a dozen such casual + bachelor guests every evening.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “And then, this morning, he would buy a new bicycle—a different make + from his own, at the nearest shop; would rig himself out, at some + ready-made tailor's, with a fresh tourist suit—probably an + ostentatiously tweedy bicycling suit; and, with that in his + luggage-carrier, would make straight on his machine for the country. He + could change in some copse, and bury his own clothes, avoiding the + blunders he has seen in others. Perhaps he might ride for the first twenty + or thirty miles out of London to some minor side-station, and then go on + by train towards his destination, quitting the rail again at some + unimportant point where the main west road crosses the Great Western or + the South-Western line.” + </p> + <p> + “Great Western or South-Western? Why those two in particular? Then, you + have settled in your own mind which direction he has taken?” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well. I judge by analogy. Lina, your brother was brought up in the + West Country, was he not?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallet gave a weary nod. “In North Devon,” she answered; “on the wild + stretch of moor about Hartland and Clovelly.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda Wade seemed to collect herself. “Now, Mr. Le Geyt is essentially a + Celt—a Celt in temperament,” she went on; “he comes by origin and + ancestry from a rough, heather-clad country; he belongs to the moorland. + In other words, his type is the mountaineer's. But a mountaineer's + instinct in similar circumstances is—what? Why, to fly straight to + his native mountains. In an agony of terror, in an access of despair, when + all else fails, he strikes a bee-line for the hills he loves; rationally + or irrationally, he seems to think he can hide there. Hugo Le Geyt, with + his frank boyish nature, his great Devonian frame, is sure to have done + so. I know his mood. He has made for the West Country!” + </p> + <p> + “You are, right, Hilda,” Mrs. Mallet exclaimed, with conviction. “I'm + quite sure, from what I know of Hugo, that to go to the West would be his + first impulse.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Le Geyts are always governed by first impulses,” my + character-reader added. + </p> + <p> + She was quite correct. From the time we two were at Oxford together—I + as an undergraduate, he as a don—I had always noticed that marked + trait in my dear old friend's temperament. + </p> + <p> + After a short pause, Hilda broke the silence again. “The sea again; the + sea! The Le Geyts love the water. Was there any place on the sea where he + went much as a boy—any lonely place, I mean, in that North Devon + district?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Mallet reflected a moment. “Yes, there was a little bay—a mere + gap in high cliffs, with some fishermen's huts and a few yards of beach—where + he used to spend much of his holidays. It was a weird-looking break in a + grim sea-wall of dark-red rocks, where the tide rose high, rolling in from + the Atlantic.” + </p> + <p> + “The very thing! Has he visited it since he grew up?” + </p> + <p> + “To my knowledge, never.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda's voice had a ring of certainty. “Then THAT is where we shall find + him, dear! We must look there first. He is sure to revisit just such a + solitary spot by the sea when trouble overtakes him.” + </p> + <p> + Later in the evening, as we were walking home towards Nathaniel's + together, I asked Hilda why she had spoken throughout with such unwavering + confidence. “Oh, it was simple enough,” she answered. “There were two + things that helped me through, which I didn't like to mention in detail + before Lina. One was this: the Le Geyts have all of them an instinctive + horror of the sight of blood; therefore, they almost never commit suicide + by shooting themselves or cutting their throats. Marcus, who shot himself + in the gun-room, was an exception to both rules; he never minded blood; he + could cut up a deer. But Hugo refused to be a doctor, because he could not + stand the sight of an operation; and even as a sportsman he never liked to + pick up or handle the game he had shot himself; he said it sickened him. + He rushed from that room last night, I feel sure, in a physical horror at + the deed he had done; and by now he is as far as he can get from London. + The sight of his act drove him away; not craven fear of an arrest. If the + Le Geyts kill themselves—a seafaring race on the whole—their + impulse is to trust to water.” + </p> + <p> + “And the other thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that was about the mountaineer's homing instinct. I have often + noticed it. I could give you fifty instances, only I didn't like to speak + of them before Lina. There was Williams, for example, the Dolgelly man who + killed a game-keeper at Petworth in a poaching affray; he was taken on + Cader Idris, skulking among rocks, a week later. Then there was that + unhappy young fellow, Mackinnon, who shot his sweetheart at Leicester; he + made, straight as the crow flies, for his home in the Isle of Skye, and + there drowned himself in familiar waters. Lindner, the Tyrolese, again, + who stabbed the American swindler at Monte Carlo, was tracked after a few + days to his native place, St. Valentin, in the Zillerthal. It is always + so. Mountaineers in distress fly to their mountains. It is a part of their + nostalgia. I know it from within, too: if <i>I</i> were in poor Hugo + LeGeyt's place, what do you think I would do? Why, hide myself at once in + the greenest recesses of our Carnarvonshire mountains.” + </p> + <p> + “What an extraordinary insight into character you have!” I cried. “You + seem to divine what everybody's action will be under given circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and held her parasol half poised in her hand. “Character + determines action,” she said, slowly, at last. “That is the secret of the + great novelists. They put themselves behind and within their characters, + and so make us feel that every act of their personages is not only natural + but even—given the conditions—inevitable. We recognise that + their story is the sole logical outcome of the interaction of their + dramatis personae. Now, <i>I</i> am not a great novelist; I cannot create + and imagine characters and situations. But I have something of the + novelist's gift; I apply the same method to the real life of the people + around me. I try to throw myself into the person of others, and to feel + how their character will compel them to act in each set of circumstances + to which they may expose themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “In one word,” I said, “you are a psychologist.” + </p> + <p> + “A psychologist,” she assented; “I suppose so; and the police—well, + the police are not; they are at best but bungling materialists. They + require a CLUE. What need of a CLUE if you can interpret character?” + </p> + <p> + So certain was Hilda Wade of her conclusions, indeed, that Mrs. Mallet + begged me next day to take my holiday at once—which I could easily + do—and go down to the little bay in the Hartland district of which + she had spoken, in search of Hugo. I consented. She herself proposed to + set out quietly for Bideford, where she could be within easy reach of me, + in order to hear of my success or failure; while Hilda Wade, whose summer + vacation was to have begun in two days' time, offered to ask for an extra + day's leave so as to accompany her. The broken-hearted sister accepted the + offer; and, secrecy being above all things necessary, we set off by + different routes: the two women by Waterloo, myself by Paddington. + </p> + <p> + We stopped that night at different hotels in Bideford; but next morning, + Hilda rode out on her bicycle, and accompanied me on mine for a mile or + two along the tortuous way towards Hartland. “Take nothing for granted,” + she said, as we parted; “and be prepared to find poor Hugo Le Geyt's + appearance greatly changed. He has eluded the police and their 'clues' so + far; therefore, I imagine he must have largely altered his dress and + exterior.” + </p> + <p> + “I will find him,” I answered, “if he is anywhere within twenty miles of + Hartland.” + </p> + <p> + She waved her hand to me in farewell. I rode on after she left me towards + the high promontory in front, the wildest and least-visited part of North + Devon. Torrents of rain had fallen during the night; the slimy cart-ruts + and cattle-tracks on the moor were brimming with water. It was a lowering + day. The clouds drifted low. Black peat-bogs filled the hollows; grey + stone homesteads, lonely and forbidding, stood out here and there against + the curved sky-line. Even the high road was uneven and in places flooded. + For an hour I passed hardly a soul. At last, near a crossroad with a + defaced finger-post, I descended from my machine, and consulted my + ordnance map, on which Mrs. Mallet had marked ominously, with a cross of + red rink, the exact position of the little fishing hamlet where Hugo used + to spend his holidays. I took the turning which seemed to me most likely + to lead to it; but the tracks were so confused, and the run of the lanes + so uncertain—let alone the map being some years out of date—that + I soon felt I had lost my bearings. By a little wayside inn, half hidden + in a deep combe, with bog on every side, I descended and asked for a + bottle of ginger-beer; for the day was hot and close, in spite of the + packed clouds. As they were opening the bottle, I inquired casually the + way to the Red Gap bathing-place. + </p> + <p> + The landlord gave me directions which confused me worse than ever, ending + at last with the concise remark: “An' then, zur, two or dree more turns to + the right an' to the left 'ull bring 'ee right up alongzide o' ut.” + </p> + <p> + I despaired of finding the way by these unintelligible sailing-orders; but + just at that moment, as luck would have it, another cyclist flew past—the + first soul I had seen on the road that morning. He was a man with the + loose-knit air of a shop assistant, badly got up in a rather loud and + obtrusive tourist suit of brown homespun, with baggy knickerbockers and + thin thread stockings. I judged him a gentleman on the cheap at sight. + “Very Stylish; this Suit Complete, only thirty-seven and sixpence!” The + landlady glanced out at him with a friendly nod. He turned and smiled at + her, but did not see me; for I stood in the shade behind the half-open + door. He had a short black moustache and a not unpleasing, careless face. + His features, I thought, were better than his garments. + </p> + <p> + However, the stranger did not interest me just then I was far too full of + more important matters. “Why don't 'ee taake an' vollow thik ther + gen'leman, zur?” the landlady said, pointing one large red hand after him. + “Ur do go down to Urd Gap to zwim every marnin'. Mr. Jan Smith, o' Oxford, + they do call un. 'Ee can't go wrong if 'ee do vollow un to the Gap. Ur's + lodgin' up to wold Varmer Moore's, an' ur's that vond o' the zay, the + vishermen do tell me, as wasn't never any gen'leman like un.” + </p> + <p> + I tossed off my ginger-beer, jumped on to my machine, and followed the + retreating brown back of Mr. John Smith, of Oxford—surely a most + non-committing name—round sharp corners and over rutty lanes, + tire-deep in mud, across the rusty-red moor, till, all at once, at a turn, + a gap of stormy sea appeared wedge-shape between two shelving rock-walls. + </p> + <p> + It was a lonely spot. Rocks hemmed it in; big breakers walled it. The + sou'-wester roared through the gap. I rode down among loose stones and + water-worn channels in the solid grit very carefully. But the man in brown + had torn over the wild path with reckless haste, zigzagging madly, and was + now on the little three-cornered patch of beach, undressing himself with a + sort of careless glee, and flinging his clothes down anyhow on the shingle + beside him. Something about the action caught my eye. That movement of the + arm! It was not—it could not be—no, no, not Hugo! + </p> + <p> + A very ordinary person; and Le Geyt bore the stamp of a born gentleman. + </p> + <p> + He stood up bare at last. He flung out his arms, as if to welcome the + boisterous wind to his naked bosom. Then, with a sudden burst of + recognition, the man stood revealed. We had bathed together a hundred + times in London and elsewhere. The face, the clad figure, the dress, all + were different. But the body—the actual frame and make of the man—the + well-knit limbs, the splendid trunk—no disguise could alter. It was + Le Geyt himself—big, powerful, vigorous. + </p> + <p> + That ill-made suit, those baggy knickerbockers, the slouched cap, the thin + thread stockings, had only distorted and hidden his figure. Now that I saw + him as he was, he came out the same bold and manly form as ever. + </p> + <p> + He did not notice me. He rushed down with a certain wild joy into the + turbulent water, and, plunging in with a loud cry, buffeted the huge waves + with those strong curving arms of his. The sou'-wester was rising. Each + breaker as it reared caught him on its crest and tumbled him over like a + cork, but like a cork he rose again. He was swimming now, arm over arm, + straight out seaward. I saw the lifted hands between the crest and the + trough. For a moment I hesitated whether I ought to strip and follow him. + Was he doing as so many others of his house had done—courting death + from the water? + </p> + <p> + But some strange hand restrained me. Who was I that I should stand between + Hugo Le Geyt and the ways of Providence? + </p> + <p> + The Le Geyts loved ever the ordeal by water. + </p> + <p> + Presently, he turned again. Before he turned, I had taken the opportunity + to look hastily at his clothes. Hilda Wade had surmised aright once more. + The outer suit was a cheap affair from a big ready-made tailor's in St. + Martin's Lane—turned out by the thousand; the underclothing, on the + other hand, was new and unmarked, but fine in quality—bought, no + doubt, at Bideford. An eerie sense of doom stole over me. I felt the end + was near. I withdrew behind a big rock, and waited there unseen till Hugo + had landed. He began to dress again, without troubling to dry himself. I + drew a deep breath of relief. Then this was not suicide! + </p> + <p> + By the time he had pulled on his vest and drawers, I came out suddenly + from my ambush and faced him. A fresh shock awaited me. I could hardly + believe my eyes. It was NOT Le Geyt—no, nor anything like him! + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the man rose with a little cry and advanced, half crouching, + towards me. “YOU are not hunting me down—with the police?” he + exclaimed, his neck held low and his forehead wrinkling. + </p> + <p> + The voice—the voice was Le Geyt's. It was an unspeakable mystery. + “Hugo,” I cried, “dear Hugo—hunting you down?—COULD you + imagine it?” + </p> + <p> + He raised his head, strode forward, and grasped my hand. “Forgive me, + Cumberledge,” he cried. “But a proscribed and hounded man! If you knew + what a relief it is to me to get out on the water!” + </p> + <p> + “You forget all there?” + </p> + <p> + “I forget IT—the red horror!” + </p> + <p> + “You meant just now to drown yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “No! If I had meant it I would have done it.... Hubert, for my children's + sake, I WILL not commit suicide!” + </p> + <p> + “Then listen!” I cried. I told him in a few words of his sister's scheme—Sebastian's + defence—the plausibility of the explanation—the whole long + story. He gazed at me moodily. Yet it was not Hugo! + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he said, shortly; and as he spoke it was HE. “I have done it; I + have killed her; I will not owe my life to a falsehood.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for the children's sake?” + </p> + <p> + He dashed his hand down impatiently. “I have a better way for the + children. I will save them still.... Hubert, you are not afraid to speak + to a murderer?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Hugo—I know all; and to know all is to forgive all.” + </p> + <p> + He grasped my hand once more. “Know ALL!” he cried, with a despairing + gesture. “Oh, no; no one knows ALL but myself; not even the children. But + the children know much; THEY will forgive me. Lina knows something; SHE + will forgive me. You know a little; YOU forgive me. The world can never + know. It will brand my darlings as a murderer's children.” + </p> + <p> + “It was the act of a minute,” I interposed. “And—though she is dead, + poor lady, and one must speak no ill of her—we can at least gather + dimly, for your children's sake, how deep was the provocation.” + </p> + <p> + He gazed at me fixedly. His voice was like lead. “For the children's sake—yes,” + he answered, as in a dream. “It was all for the children! I have killed + her—murdered her—she has paid her penalty; and, poor dead + soul, I will utter no word against her—the woman I have murdered! + But one thing I will say: If omniscient justice sends me for this to + eternal punishment, I can endure it gladly, like a man, knowing that so I + have redeemed my Marian's motherless girls from a deadly tyranny.” + </p> + <p> + It was the only sentence in which he ever alluded to her. + </p> + <p> + I sat down by his side and watched him closely. Mechanically, + methodically, he went on with his dressing. The more he dressed, the less + could I believe it was Hugo. I had expected to find him close-shaven; so + did the police, by their printed notices. Instead of that, he had shaved + his beard and whiskers, but only trimmed his moustache; trimmed it quite + short, so as to reveal the boyish corners of the mouth—a trick which + entirely altered his rugged expression. But that was not all; what puzzled + me most was the eyes—they were not Hugo's. At first I could not + imagine why. By degrees the truth dawned upon me. His eyebrows were + naturally thick and shaggy—great overhanging growth, interspersed + with many of those stiff long hairs to which Darwin called attention in + certain men as surviving traits from a monkey-like ancestor. In order to + disguise himself, Hugo had pulled out all these coarser hairs, leaving + nothing on his brows but the soft and closely pressed coat of down which + underlies the longer bristles in all such cases. This had wholly altered + the expression of the eyes, which no longer looked out keenly from their + cavernous penthouse; but being deprived of their relief, had acquired a + much more ordinary and less individual aspect. From a good-natured but + shaggy giant, my old friend was transformed by his shaving and his costume + into a well-fed and well-grown, but not very colossal, commercial + gentleman. Hugo was scarcely six feet high, indeed, though by his broad + shoulders and bushy beard he had always impressed one with such a sense of + size; and now that the hirsuteness had been got rid of, and the dress + altered, he hardly struck one as taller or bigger than the average of his + fellows. + </p> + <p> + We sat for some minutes and talked. Le Geyt would not speak of Clara; and + when I asked him his intentions, he shook his head moodily. “I shall act + for the best,” he said—“what of best is left—to guard the dear + children. It was a terrible price to pay for their redemption; but it was + the only one possible, and, in a moment of wrath, I paid it. Now, I have + to pay, in turn, myself. I do not shirk it.” + </p> + <p> + “You will come back to London, then, and stand your trial?” I asked, + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Come back TO LONDON?” he cried, with a face of white panic. Hitherto he + had seemed to me rather relieved in expression than otherwise; his + countenance had lost its worn and anxious look; he was no longer watching + each moment over his children's safety. “Come back... TO LONDON... and + face my trial! Why, did you think, Hubert, 'twas the court or the hanging + I was shirking? No, no; not that; but IT—the red horror! I must get + away from IT to the sea—to the water—to wash away the stain—as + far from IT—that red pool—as possible!” + </p> + <p> + I answered nothing. I left him to face his own remorse in silence. + </p> + <p> + At last he rose to go, and held one foot undecided on his bicycle. + </p> + <p> + “I leave myself in Heaven's hands,” he said, as he lingered. “IT will + requite.... The ordeal is by water.” + </p> + <p> + “So I judged,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Lina this from me,” he went on, still loitering: “that if she will + trust me, I will strive to do the best that remains for my darlings. I + will do it, Heaven helping. She will know WHAT, to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + He mounted his machine and sailed off. My eyes followed him up the path + with sad forebodings. + </p> + <p> + All day long I loitered about the Gap. It consisted of two bays—the + one I had already seen, and another, divided from it by a saw-edge of + rock. In the further cove crouched a few low stone cottages. A + broad-bottomed sailing boat lay there, pulled up high on the beach. About + three o'clock, as I sat and watched, two men began to launch it. The sea + ran high; tide coming in; the sou'-wester still increasing in force to a + gale; at the signal-staff on the cliff, the danger-cone was hoisted. White + spray danced in air. Big black clouds rolled up seething from windward; + low thunder rumbling; a storm threatened. + </p> + <p> + One of the men was Le Geyt, the other a fisherman. + </p> + <p> + He jumped in, and put off through the surf with an air of triumph. He was + a splendid sailor. His boat leapt through the breakers and flew before the + wind with a mere rag of canvas. “Dangerous weather to be out!” I exclaimed + to the fisherman, who stood with hands buried in his pockets, watching + him. + </p> + <p> + “Ay that ur be, zur!” the man answered. “Doan't like the look o' ut. But + thik there gen'leman, 'ee's one o' Oxford, 'ee do tell me; and they'm a + main venturesome lot, they college volk. 'Ee's off by 'isself droo the + starm, all so var as Lundy!” + </p> + <p> + “Will he reach it?” I asked, anxiously, having my own idea on the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Doan't seem like ut, zur, do ut? Ur must, an' ur mustn't, an' yit again + ur must. Powerful 'ard place ur be to maake in a starm, to be zure, Lundy. + Zaid the Lord 'ould dezide. But ur 'ouldn't be warned, ur 'ouldn't; an' + voolhardy volk, as the zayin' is, must go their own voolhardy waay to + perdition!” + </p> + <p> + It was the last I saw of Le Geyt alive. Next morning the lifeless body of + “the man who was wanted for the Campden Hill mystery” was cast up by the + waves on the shore of Lundy. The Lord had decided. + </p> + <p> + Hugo had not miscalculated. “Luck in their suicides,” Hilda Wade said; + and, strange to say, the luck of the Le Geyts stood him in good stead + still. By a miracle of fate, his children were not branded as a murderer's + daughters. Sebastian gave evidence at the inquest on the wife's body: + “Self-inflicted—a recoil—accidental—I am SURE of it.” + His specialist knowledge—his assertive certainty, combined with that + arrogant, masterful manner of his, and his keen, eagle eye, overbore the + jury. Awed by the great man's look, they brought in a submissive verdict + of “Death by misadventure.” The coroner thought it a most proper finding. + Mrs. Mallet had made the most of the innate Le Geyt horror of blood. The + newspapers charitably surmised that the unhappy husband, crazed by the + instantaneous unexpectedness of his loss, had wandered away like a madman + to the scenes of his childhood, and had there been drowned by accident + while trying to cross a stormy sea to Lundy, under some wild impression + that he would find his dead wife alive on the island. Nobody whispered + MURDER. Everybody dwelt on the utter absence of motive—a model + husband!—such a charming young wife, and such a devoted stepmother. + We three alone knew—we three, and the children. + </p> + <p> + On the day when the jury brought in their verdict at the adjourned inquest + on Mrs. Le Geyt, Hilda Wade stood in the room, trembling and white-faced, + awaiting their decision. When the foreman uttered the words, “Death by + misadventure,” she burst into tears of relief. “He did well!” she cried to + me, passionately. “He did well, that poor father! He placed his life in + the hands of his Maker, asking only for mercy to his innocent children. + And mercy has been shown to him and to them. He was taken gently in the + way he wished. It would have broken my heart for those two poor girls if + the verdict had gone otherwise. He knew how terrible a lot it is to be + called a murderer's daughter.” + </p> + <p> + I did not realise at the time with what profound depth of personal feeling + she said it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE NEEDLE THAT DID NOT MATCH + </h3> + <p> + “Sebastian is a great man,” I said to Hilda Wade, as I sat one afternoon + over a cup of tea she had brewed for me in her own little sitting-room. It + is one of the alleviations of an hospital doctor's lot that he may drink + tea now and again with the Sister of his ward. “Whatever else you choose + to think of him, you must admit he is a very great man.” + </p> + <p> + I admired our famous Professor, and I admired Hilda Wade: 'twas a matter + of regret to me that my two admirations did not seem in return + sufficiently to admire one another. “Oh, yes,” Hilda answered, pouring out + my second cup; “he is a very great man. I never denied that. The greatest + man, on the whole, I think, that I have ever come across.” + </p> + <p> + “And he has done splendid work for humanity,” I went on, growing + enthusiastic. + </p> + <p> + “Splendid work! Yes, splendid! (Two lumps, I believe?) He has done more, I + admit, for medical science than any other man I ever met.” + </p> + <p> + I gazed at her with a curious glance. “Then why, dear lady, do you keep + telling me he is cruel?” I inquired, toasting my feet on the fender. “It + seems contradictory.” + </p> + <p> + She passed me the muffins, and smiled her restrained smile. + </p> + <p> + “Does the desire to do good to humanity in itself imply a benevolent + disposition?” she answered, obliquely. + </p> + <p> + “Now you are talking in paradox. Surely, if a man works all his life long + for the good of mankind, that shows he is devoured by sympathy for his + species.” + </p> + <p> + “And when your friend Mr. Bates works all his life long at observing, and + classifying lady-birds, I suppose that shows he is devoured by sympathy + for the race of beetles!” + </p> + <p> + I laughed at her comical face, she looked at me so quizzically. “But + then,” I objected, “the cases are not parallel. Bates kills and collects + his lady-birds; Sebastian cures and benefits humanity.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda smiled her wise smile once more, and fingered her apron. “Are the + cases so different as you suppose?” she went on, with her quick glance. + “Is it not partly accident? A man of science, you see, early in life, + takes up, half by chance, this, that, or the other particular form of + study. But what the study is in itself, I fancy, does not greatly matter; + do not mere circumstances as often as not determine it? Surely it is the + temperament, on the whole, that tells: the temperament that is or is not + scientific.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean? You ARE so enigmatic!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in a family of the scientific temperament, it seems to me, one + brother may happen to go in for butterflies—may he not?—and + another for geology, or for submarine telegraphs. Now, the man who happens + to take up butterflies does not make a fortune out of his hobby—there + is no money in butterflies; so we say, accordingly, he is an unpractical + person, who cares nothing for business, and who is only happy when he is + out in the fields with a net, chasing emperors and tortoise-shells. But + the man who happens to fancy submarine telegraphy most likely invents a + lot of new improvements, takes out dozens of patents, finds money flow in + upon him as he sits in his study, and becomes at last a peer and a + millionaire; so then we say, What a splendid business head he has got, to + be sure, and how immensely he differs from his poor wool-gathering + brother, the entomologist, who can only invent new ways of hatching out + wire-worms! Yet all may really depend on the first chance direction which + led one brother as a boy to buy a butterfly net, and sent the other into + the school laboratory to dabble with an electric wheel and a cheap + battery.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you mean to say it is chance that has made Sebastian?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda shook her pretty head. “By no means. Don't be so stupid. We both + know Sebastian has a wonderful brain. Whatever was the work he undertook + with that brain in science, he would carry it out consummately. He is a + born thinker. It is like this, don't you know.” She tried to arrange her + thoughts. “The particular branch of science to which Mr. Hiram Maxim's + mind happens to have been directed was the making of machine-guns—and + he slays his thousands. The particular branch to which Sebastian's mind + happens to have been directed was medicine—and he cures as many as + Mr. Maxim kills. It is a turn of the hand that makes all the difference.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” I said. “The aim of medicine happens to be a benevolent one.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so; that's just what I mean. The aim is benevolent; and Sebastian + pursues that aim with the single-minded energy of a lofty, gifted, and + devoted nature—but not a good one!' + </p> + <p> + “Not good?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. To be quite frank, he seems to me to pursue it ruthlessly, + cruelly, unscrupulously. He is a man of high ideals, but without + principle. In that respect he reminds one of the great spirits of the + Italian Renaissance—Benvenuto Cellini and so forth—men who + could pore for hours with conscientious artistic care over the detail of a + hem in a sculptured robe, yet could steal out in the midst of their + disinterested toil to plunge a knife in the back of a rival.” + </p> + <p> + “Sebastian would not do that,” I cried. “He is wholly free from the mean + spirit of jealousy.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Sebastian would not do that. You are quite right there; there is no + tinge of meanness in the man's nature. He likes to be first in the field; + but he would acclaim with delight another man's scientific triumph—if + another anticipated him; for would it not mean a triumph for universal + science?—and is not the advancement of science Sebastian's religion? + But... he would do almost as much, or more. He would stab a man without + remorse, if he thought that by stabbing him he could advance knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + I recognised at once the truth of her diagnosis. “Nurse Wade,” I cried, + “you are a wonderful woman! I believe you are right; but—how did you + come to think of it?” + </p> + <p> + A cloud passed over her brow. “I have reason to know it,” she answered, + slowly. Then her voice changed. “Take another muffin.” + </p> + <p> + I helped myself and paused. I laid down my cup, and gazed at her. What a + beautiful, tender, sympathetic face! And yet, how able! She stirred the + fire uneasily. I looked and hesitated. I had often wondered why I never + dared ask Hilda Wade one question that was nearest my heart. I think it + must have been because I respected her so profoundly. The deeper your + admiration and respect for a woman, the harder you find it in the end to + ask her. At last I ALMOST made up my mind. “I cannot think,” I began, + “what can have induced a girl like you, with means and friends, with + brains and”—I drew back, then I plumped it out—“beauty, to + take to such a life as this—a life which seems, in many ways, so + unworthy of you!” + </p> + <p> + She stirred the fire more pensively than ever, and rearranged the + muffin-dish on the little wrought-iron stand in font of the grate. “And + yet,” she murmured, looking down, “what life can be better than the + service of one's kind? You think it a great life for Sebastian!” + </p> + <p> + “Sebastian! He is a man. That is different; quite different. But a woman! + Especially YOU, dear lady, for whom one feels that nothing is quite high + enough, quite pure enough, quite good enough. I cannot imagine how—” + </p> + <p> + She checked me with one wave of her gracious hand. Her movements were + always slow and dignified. “I have a Plan in my life,” she answered + earnestly, her eyes meeting mine with a sincere, frank gaze; “a Plan to + which I have resolved to sacrifice everything. It absorbs my being. Till + that Plan is fulfilled—” I saw the tears were gathering fast on her + lashes. She suppressed them with an effort. “Say no more,” she added, + faltering. “Infirm of purpose! I WILL not listen.” + </p> + <p> + I leant forward eagerly, pressing my advantage. The air was electric. + Waves of emotion passed to and fro. “But surely,” I cried, “you do not + mean to say—” + </p> + <p> + She waved me aside once more. “I will not put my hand to the plough, and + then look back,” she answered, firmly. “Dr. Cumberledge, spare me. I came + to Nathaniel's for a purpose. I told you at the time what that purpose was—in + part: to be near Sebastian. I want to be near him... for an object I have + at heart. Do not ask me to reveal it; do not ask me to forego it. I am a + woman, therefore weak. But I need your aid. Help me, instead of hindering + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda,” I cried, leaning forward, with quiverings of my heart, “I will + help you in whatever way you will allow me. But let me at any rate help + you with the feeling that I am helping one who means in time—” + </p> + <p> + At that moment, as unkindly fate would have it, the door opened, and + Sebastian entered. + </p> + <p> + “Nurse Wade,” he began, in his iron voice, glancing about him with stern + eyes, “where are those needles I ordered for that operation? We must be + ready in time before Nielsen comes.... Cumberledge, I shall want you.” + </p> + <p> + The golden opportunity had come and gone. It was long before I found a + similar occasion for speaking to Hilda. + </p> + <p> + Every day after that the feeling deepened upon me that Hilda was there to + watch Sebastian. WHY, I did not know; but it was growing certain that a + life-long duel was in progress between these two—a duel of some + strange and mysterious import. + </p> + <p> + The first approach to a solution of the problem which I obtained came a + week or two later. Sebastian was engaged in observing a case where certain + unusual symptoms had suddenly supervened. It was a case of some obscure + affection of the heart. I will not trouble you here with the particular + details. We all suspected a tendency to aneurism. Hilda Wade was in + attendance, as she always was on Sebastian's observation cases. We crowded + round, watching. The Professor himself leaned over the cot with some + medicine for external application in a basin. He gave it to Hilda to hold. + I noticed that as she held it her fingers trembled, and that her eyes were + fixed harder than ever upon Sebastian. He turned round to his students. + “Now this,” he began, in a very unconcerned voice, as if the patient were + a toad, “is a most unwonted turn for the disease to take. It occurs very + seldom. In point of fact, I have only observed the symptom once before; + and then it was fatal. The patient in that instance”—he paused + dramatically—“was the notorious poisoner, Dr. Yorke-Bannerman.” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered the words, Hilda Wade's hands trembled more than ever, and + with a little scream she let the basin fall, breaking it into fragments. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian's keen eyes had transfixed her in a second. “How did you manage + to do that?” he asked, with quiet sarcasm, but in a tone full of meaning. + </p> + <p> + “The basin was heavy,” Hilda faltered. “My hands were trembling—and + it somehow slipped through them. I am not... quite myself... not quite + well this afternoon. I ought not to have attempted it.” + </p> + <p> + The Professor's deep-set eyes peered out like gleaming lights from beneath + their overhanging brows. “No; you ought not to have attempted it,” he + answered, withering her with a glance. “You might have let the thing fall + on the patient and killed him. As it is, can't you see you have agitated + him with the flurry? Don't stand there holding your breath, woman: repair + your mischief. Get a cloth and wipe it up, and give ME the bottle.” + </p> + <p> + With skilful haste he administered a little sal volatile and nux vomica to + the swooning patient; while Hilda set about remedying the damage. “That's + better,” Sebastian said, in a mollified tone, when she had brought another + basin. There was a singular note of cloaked triumph in his voice. “Now, + we'll begin again.... I was just saying, gentlemen, before this accident, + that I had seen only ONE case of this peculiar form of the tendency + before; and that case was the notorious”—he kept his glittering eyes + fixed harder on Hilda than ever—“the notorious Dr. Yorke-Bannerman.” + </p> + <p> + <i>I</i> was watching Hilda, too. At the words, she trembled violently all + over once more, but with an effort restrained herself. Their looks met in + a searching glance. Hilda's air was proud and fearless: in Sebastian's, I + fancied I detected, after a second, just a tinge of wavering. + </p> + <p> + “You remember Yorke-Bannerman's case,” he went on. “He committed a murder—” + </p> + <p> + “Let ME take the basin!” I cried, for I saw Hilda's hands giving way a + second time, and I was anxious to spare her. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” she answered low, but in a voice that was full of + suppressed defiance. “I will wait and hear this out. I PREFER to stop + here.” + </p> + <p> + As for Sebastian, he seemed now not to notice her, though I was aware all + the time of a sidelong glance of his eye, parrot-wise, in her direction. + “He committed a murder,” he went on, “by means of aconitine—then an + almost unknown poison; and, after committing it, his heart being already + weak, he was taken himself with symptoms of aneurism in a curious form, + essentially similar to these; so that he died before the trial—a + lucky escape for him.” + </p> + <p> + He paused rhetorically once more; then he added in the same tone: “Mental + agitation and the terror of detection no doubt accelerated the fatal + result in that instance. He died at once from the shock of the arrest. It + was a natural conclusion. Here we may hope for a more successful issue.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke to the students, of course, but I could see for all that that he + was keeping his falcon eye fixed hard on Hilda's face. I glanced aside at + her. She never flinched for a second. Neither said anything directly to + the other; still, by their eyes and mouths, I knew some strange passage of + arms had taken place between them. Sebastian's tone was one of + provocation, of defiance, I might almost say of challenge. Hilda's air I + took rather for the air of calm and resolute, but assured, resistance. He + expected her to answer; she said nothing. Instead of that, she went on + holding the basin now with fingers that WOULD not tremble. Every muscle + was strained. Every tendon was strung. I could see she held herself in + with a will of iron. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the episode passed off quietly. Sebastian, having delivered + his bolt, began to think less of Hilda and more of the patient. He went on + with his demonstration. As for Hilda, she gradually relaxed her muscles, + and, with a deep-drawn breath, resumed her natural attitude. The tension + was over. They had had their little skirmish, whatever it might mean, and + had it out; now, they called a truce over the patient's body. + </p> + <p> + When the case had been disposed of, and the students dismissed, I went + straight into the laboratory to get a few surgical instruments I had + chanced to leave there. For a minute or two, I mislaid my clinical + thermometer, and began hunting for it behind a wooden partition in the + corner of the room by the place for washing test-tubes. As I stooped down, + turning over the various objects about the tap in my search, Sebastian's + voice came to me. He had paused outside the door, and was speaking in his + calm, clear tone, very low, to Hilda. “So NOW we understand one another, + Nurse Wade,” he said, with a significant sneer. “I know whom I have to + deal with!” + </p> + <p> + “And <i>I</i> know, too,” Hilda answered, in a voice of placid confidence. + </p> + <p> + “Yet you are not afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not <i>I</i> who have cause for fear. The accused may tremble, not + the prosecutor.” + </p> + <p> + “What! You threaten?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I do not threaten. Not in words, I mean. My presence here is in + itself a threat, but I make no other. You know now, unfortunately, WHY I + have come. That makes my task harder. But I will NOT give it up. I will + wait and conquer.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian answered nothing. He strode into the laboratory alone, tall, + grim, unbending, and let himself sink into his easy chair, looking up with + a singular and somewhat sinister smile at his bottles of microbes. After a + minute he stirred the fire, and bent his head forward, brooding. He held + it between his hands, with his elbows on his knees, and gazed moodily + straight before him into the glowing caves of white-hot coal in the + fireplace. That sinister smile still played lambent around the corners of + his grizzled moustaches. + </p> + <p> + I moved noiselessly towards the door, trying to pass behind him unnoticed. + But, alert as ever, his quick ears detected me. With a sudden start, he + raised his head and glanced round. “What! you here?” he cried, taken + aback. For a second he appeared almost to lose his self-possession. + </p> + <p> + “I came for my clinical,” I answered, with an unconcerned air. “I have + somehow managed to mislay it in the laboratory.” + </p> + <p> + My carefully casual tone seemed to reassure him. He peered about him with + knit brows. “Cumberledge,” he asked at last, in a suspicious voice, “did + you hear that woman?” + </p> + <p> + “The woman in 93? Delirious?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Nurse Wade?” + </p> + <p> + “Hear her?” I echoed, I must candidly admit with intent to deceive. “When + she broke the basin?” + </p> + <p> + His forehead relaxed. “Oh! it is nothing,” he muttered, hastily. “A mere + point of discipline. She spoke to me just now, and I thought her tone + unbecoming in a subordinate.... Like Korah and his crew, she takes too + much upon her.... We must get rid of her, Cumberledge; we must get rid of + her. She is a dangerous woman!” + </p> + <p> + “She is the most intelligent nurse we have ever had in the place, sir,” I + objected, stoutly. + </p> + <p> + He nodded his head twice. “Intelligent—je vous l'accorde; but + dangerous—dangerous!” + </p> + <p> + Then he turned to his papers, sorting them out one by one with a + preoccupied face and twitching fingers. I recognised that he desired to be + left alone, so I quitted the laboratory. + </p> + <p> + I cannot quite say WHY, but ever since Hilda Wade first came to + Nathaniel's my enthusiasm for Sebastian had been cooling continuously. + Admiring his greatness still, I had doubts as to his goodness. That day I + felt I positively mistrusted him. I wondered what his passage of arms with + Hilda might mean. Yet, somehow, I was shy of alluding to it before her. + </p> + <p> + One thing, however, was clear to me now—this great campaign that was + being waged between the nurse and the Professor had reference to the case + of Dr. Yorke-Bannerman. + </p> + <p> + For a time, nothing came of it; the routine of the hospital went on as + usual. The patient with the suspected predisposition to aneurism kept + fairly well for a week or two, and then took a sudden turn for the worse, + presenting at times most unwonted symptoms. He died unexpectedly. + Sebastian, who had watched him every hour, regarded the matter as of prime + importance. “I'm glad it happened here,” he said, rubbing his hands. “A + grand opportunity. I wanted to catch an instance like this before that + fellow in Paris had time to anticipate me. They're all on the lookout. Von + Strahlendorff, of Vienna, has been waiting for just such a patient for + years. So have I. Now fortune has favoured me. Lucky for us he died! We + shall find out everything.” + </p> + <p> + We held a post-mortem, of course, the condition of the blood being what we + most wished to observe; and the autopsy revealed some unexpected details. + One remarkable feature consisted in a certain undescribed and impoverished + state of the contained bodies which Sebastian, with his eager zeal for + science, desired his students to see and identify. He said it was likely + to throw much light on other ill-understood conditions of the brain and + nervous system, as well as on the peculiar faint odour of the insane, now + so well recognised in all large asylums. In order to compare this abnormal + state with the aspect of the healthy circulating medium, he proposed to + examine a little good living blood side by side with the morbid specimen + under the microscope. Nurse Wade was in attendance in the laboratory, as + usual. The Professor, standing by the instrument, with one hand on the + brass screw, had got the diseased drop ready arranged for our inspection + beforehand, and was gloating over it himself with scientific enthusiasm. + “Grey corpuscles, you will observe,” he said, “almost entirely deficient. + Red, poor in number, and irregular in outline. Plasma, thin. Nuclei, + feeble. A state of body which tells severely against the due rebuilding of + the wasted tissues. Now compare with typical normal specimen.” He removed + his eye from the microscope, and wiped a glass slide with a clean cloth as + he spoke. “Nurse Wade, we know of old the purity and vigour of your + circulating fluid. You shall have the honour of advancing science once + more. Hold up your finger.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda held up her forefinger unhesitatingly. She was used to such + requests; and, indeed, Sebastian had acquired by long experience the + faculty of pinching the finger-tip so hard, and pressing the point of a + needle so dexterously into a minor vessel, that he could draw at once a + small drop of blood without the subject even feeling it. + </p> + <p> + The Professor nipped the last joint between his finger and thumb for a + moment till it was black at the end; then he turned to the saucer at his + side, which Hilda herself had placed there, and chose from it, cat-like, + with great deliberation and selective care, a particular needle. Hilda's + eyes followed his every movement as closely and as fearlessly as ever. + Sebastian's hand was raised, and he was just about to pierce the delicate + white skin, when, with a sudden, quick scream of terror, she snatched her + hand away hastily. + </p> + <p> + The Professor let the needle drop in his astonishment. “What did you do + that for?” he cried, with an angry dart of the keen eyes. “This is not the + first time I have drawn your blood. You KNEW I would not hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda's face had grown strangely pale. But that was not all. I believe I + was the only person present who noticed one unobtrusive piece of + sleight-of-hand which she hurriedly and skilfully executed. When the + needle slipped from Sebastian's hand, she leant forward even as she + screamed, and caught it, unobserved, in the folds of her apron. Then her + nimble fingers closed over it as if by magic, and conveyed it with a rapid + movement at once to her pocket. I do not think even Sebastian himself + noticed the quick forward jerk of her eager hands, which would have done + honour to a conjurer. He was too much taken aback by her unexpected + behaviour to observe the needle. + </p> + <p> + Just as she caught it, Hilda answered his question in a somewhat flurried + voice. “I—I was afraid,” she broke out, gasping. “One gets these + little accesses of terror now and again. I—I feel rather weak. I + don't think I will volunteer to supply any more normal blood this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian's acute eyes read her through, as so often. With a trenchant + dart he glanced from her to me. I could see he began to suspect a + confederacy. “That will do,” he went on, with slow deliberateness. “Better + so. Nurse Wade, I don't know what's beginning to come over you. You are + losing your nerve—which is fatal in a nurse. Only the other day you + let fall and broke a basin at a most critical moment; and now, you scream + aloud on a trifling apprehension.” He paused and glanced around him. “Mr. + Callaghan,” he said, turning to our tall, red-haired Irish student, “YOUR + blood is good normal, and YOU are not hysterical.” He selected another + needle with studious care. “Give me your finger.” + </p> + <p> + As he picked out the needle, I saw Hilda lean forward again, alert and + watchful, eyeing him with a piercing glance; but, after a second's + consideration, she seemed to satisfy herself, and fell back without a + word. I gathered that she was ready to interfere, had occasion demanded. + But occasion did not demand; and she held her peace quietly. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the examination proceeded without a hitch. For a minute or + two, it is true, I fancied that Sebastian betrayed a certain suppressed + agitation—a trifling lack of his accustomed perspicuity and his + luminous exposition. But, after meandering for a while through a few vague + sentences, he soon recovered his wonted calm; and as he went on with his + demonstration, throwing himself eagerly into the case, his usual + scientific enthusiasm came back to him undiminished. He waxed eloquent + (after his fashion) over the “beautiful” contrast between Callaghan's + wholesome blood, “rich in the vivifying architectonic grey corpuscles + which rebuild worn tissues,” and the effete, impoverished, unvitalised + fluid which stagnated in the sluggish veins of the dead patient. The + carriers of oxygen had neglected their proper task; the granules whose + duty it was to bring elaborated food-stuffs to supply the waste of brain + and nerve and muscle had forgotten their cunning. The bricklayers of the + bodily fabric had gone out on strike; the weary scavengers had declined to + remove the useless by-products. His vivid tongue, his picturesque fancy, + ran away with him. I had never heard him talk better or more incisively + before; one could feel sure, as he spoke, that the arteries of his own + acute and teeming brain at that moment of exaltation were by no means + deficient in those energetic and highly vital globules on whose reparative + worth he so eloquently descanted. “Sure, the Professor makes annywan see + right inside wan's own vascular system,” Callaghan whispered aside to me, + in unfeigned admiration. + </p> + <p> + The demonstration ended in impressive silence. As we streamed out of the + laboratory, aglow with his electric fire, Sebastian held me back with a + bent motion of his shrivelled forefinger. I stayed behind unwillingly. + “Yes, sir?” I said, in an interrogative voice. + </p> + <p> + The Professor's eyes were fixed intently on the ceiling. His look was one + of rapt inspiration. I stood and waited. “Cumberledge,” he said at last, + coming back to earth with a start, “I see it more plainly each day that + goes. We must get rid of that woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Of Nurse Wade?” I asked, catching my breath. + </p> + <p> + He roped the grizzled moustache, and blinked the sunken eyes. “She has + lost nerve,” he went on, “lost nerve entirely. I shall suggest that she be + dismissed. Her sudden failures of stamina are most embarrassing at + critical junctures.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir,” I answered, swallowing a lump in my throat. To say the + truth, I was beginning to be afraid on Hilda's account. That morning's + events had thoroughly disquieted me. + </p> + <p> + He seemed relieved at my unquestioning acquiescence. “She is a dangerous + edged-tool; that's the truth of it,” he went on, still twirling his + moustache with a preoccupied air, and turning over his stock of needles. + “When she's clothed and in her right mind, she is a valuable accessory—sharp + and trenchant like a clean, bright lancet; but when she allows one of + these causeless hysterical fits to override her tone, she plays one false + at once—like a lancet that slips, or grows dull and rusty.” He + polished one of the needles on a soft square of new chamois-leather while + he spoke, as if to give point and illustration to his simile. + </p> + <p> + I went out from him, much perturbed. The Sebastian I had once admired and + worshipped was beginning to pass from me; in his place I found a very + complex and inferior creation. My idol had feet of clay. I was loth to + acknowledge it. + </p> + <p> + I stalked along the corridor moodily towards my own room. As I passed + Hilda Wade's door, I saw it half ajar. She stood a little within, and + beckoned me to enter. + </p> + <p> + I passed in and closed the door behind me. Hilda looked at me with + trustful eyes. Resolute still, her face was yet that of a hunted creature. + “Thank Heaven, I have ONE friend here, at least!” she said, slowly seating + herself. “You saw me catch and conceal the needle?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I saw you.” + </p> + <p> + She drew it forth from her purse, carefully but loosely wrapped up in a + small tag of tissue-paper. “Here it is!” she said, displaying it. “Now, I + want you to test it.” + </p> + <p> + “In a culture?” I asked; for I guessed her meaning. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “Yes, to see what that man has done to it.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you suspect?” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her graceful shoulders half imperceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “How should I know? Anything!” + </p> + <p> + I gazed at the needle closely. “What made you distrust it?” I inquired at + last, still eyeing it. + </p> + <p> + She opened a drawer, and took out several others. “See here,” she said, + handing me one; “THESE are the needles I keep in antiseptic wool—the + needles with which I always supply the Professor. You observe their shape—the + common surgical patterns. Now, look at THIS needle, with which the + Professor was just going to prick my finger! You can see for yourself at + once it is of bluer steel and of a different manufacture.” + </p> + <p> + “That is quite true,” I answered, examining it with my pocket lens, which + I always carry. “I see the difference. But how did you detect it?” + </p> + <p> + “From his face, partly; but partly, too, from the needle itself. I had my + suspicions, and I was watching him closely. Just as he raised the thing in + his hand, half concealing it, so, and showing only the point, I caught the + blue gleam of the steel as the light glanced off it. It was not the kind I + knew. Then I withdrew my hand at once, feeling sure he meant mischief.” + </p> + <p> + “That was wonderfully quick of you!” + </p> + <p> + “Quick? Well, yes. Thank Heaven, my mind works fast; my perceptions are + rapid. Otherwise—” she looked grave. “One second more, and it would + have been too late. The man might have killed me.” + </p> + <p> + “You think it is poisoned, then?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda shook her head with confident dissent. “Poisoned? Oh, no. He is + wiser now. Fifteen years ago, he used poison. But science has made + gigantic strides since then. He would not needlessly expose himself to-day + to the risks of the poisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen years ago he used poison?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, with the air of one who knows. “I am not speaking at random,” + she answered. “I say what I know. Some day I will explain. For the + present, it is enough to tell you I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you suspect now?” I asked, the weird sense of her strange + power deepening on me every second. + </p> + <p> + She held up the incriminated needle again. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see this groove?” she asked, pointing to it with the tip of + another. + </p> + <p> + I examined it once more at the light with the lens. A longitudinal groove, + apparently ground into one side of the needle, lengthwise, by means of a + small grinding-stone and emery powder, ran for a quarter of an inch above + the point. This groove seemed to me to have been produced by an amateur, + though he must have been one accustomed to delicate microscopic + manipulation; for the edges under the lens showed slightly rough, like the + surface of a file on a small scale: not smooth and polished, as a + needle-maker would have left them. I said so to Hilda. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right,” she answered. “That is just what it shows. I feel + sure Sebastian made that groove himself. He could have bought grooved + needles, it is true, such as they sometimes use for retaining small + quantities of lymphs and medicines; but we had none in stock, and to buy + them would be to manufacture evidence against himself, in case of + detection. Besides, the rough, jagged edge would hold the material he + wished to inject all the better, while its saw-like points would tear the + flesh, imperceptibly, but minutely, and so serve his purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Which was?” + </p> + <p> + “Try the needle, and judge for yourself. I prefer you should find out. You + can tell me to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “It was quick of you to detect it!” I cried, still turning the suspicious + object over. “The difference is so slight.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you tell me my eyes are as sharp as the needle. Besides, I had + reason to doubt; and Sebastian himself gave me the clue by selecting his + instrument with too great deliberation. He had put it there with the rest, + but it lay a little apart; and as he picked it up gingerly, I began to + doubt. When I saw the blue gleam, my doubt was at once converted into + certainty. Then his eyes, too, had the look which I know means victory. + Benign or baleful, it goes with his triumphs. I have seen that look + before, and when once it lurks scintillating in the luminous depths of his + gleaming eyeballs, I recognise at once that, whatever his aim, he has + succeeded in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, Hilda, I am loth—” + </p> + <p> + She waved her hand impatiently. “Waste no time,” she cried, in an + authoritative voice. “If you happen to let that needle rub carelessly + against the sleeve of your coat you may destroy the evidence. Take it at + once to your room, plunge it into a culture, and lock it up safe at a + proper temperature—where Sebastian cannot get at it—till the + consequences develop.” + </p> + <p> + I did as she bid me. By this time, I was not wholly unprepared for the + result she anticipated. My belief in Sebastian had sunk to zero, and was + rapidly reaching a negative quantity. + </p> + <p> + At nine the next morning, I tested one drop of the culture under the + microscope. Clear and limpid to the naked eye, it was alive with small + objects of a most suspicious nature, when properly magnified. I knew those + hungry forms. Still, I would not decide offhand on my own authority in a + matter of such moment. Sebastian's character was at stake—the + character of the man who led the profession. I called in Callaghan, who + happened to be in the ward, and asked him to put his eye to the instrument + for a moment. He was a splendid fellow for the use of high powers, and I + had magnified the culture 300 diameters. “What do you call those?” I + asked, breathless. + </p> + <p> + He scanned them carefully with his experienced eye. “Is it the microbes ye + mean?” he answered. “An' what 'ud they be, then, if it wasn't the bacillus + of pyaemia?” + </p> + <p> + “Blood-poisoning!” I ejaculated, horror-struck. + </p> + <p> + “Aye; blood-poisoning: that's the English of it.” + </p> + <p> + I assumed an air of indifference. “I made them that myself,” I rejoined, + as if they were mere ordinary experimental germs; “but I wanted + confirmation of my own opinion. You're sure of the bacillus?” + </p> + <p> + “An' haven't I been keeping swarms of those very same bacteria under close + observation for Sebastian for seven weeks past? Why, I know them as well + as I know me own mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” I said. “That will do.” And I carried off the microscope, + bacilli and all, into Hilda Wade's sitting-room. “Look yourself!” I cried + to her. + </p> + <p> + She stared at them through the instrument with an unmoved face. “I thought + so,” she answered shortly. “The bacillus of pyaemia. A most virulent type. + Exactly what I expected.” + </p> + <p> + “You anticipated that result?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely. You see, blood-poisoning matures quickly, and kills almost to + a certainty. Delirium supervenes so soon that the patient has no chance of + explaining suspicions. Besides, it would all seem so very natural! + Everybody would say: 'She got some slight wound, which microbes from some + case she was attending contaminated.' You may be sure Sebastian thought + out all that. He plans with consummate skill. He had designed everything.” + </p> + <p> + I gazed at her, uncertain. “And what will you DO?” I asked. “Expose him?” + </p> + <p> + She opened both her palms with a blank gesture of helplessness. “It is + useless!” she answered. “Nobody would believe me. Consider the situation. + YOU know the needle I gave you was the one Sebastian meant to use—the + one he dropped and I caught—BECAUSE you are a friend of mine, and + because you have learned to trust me. But who else would credit it? I have + only my word against his—an unknown nurse's against the great + Professor's. Everybody would say I was malicious or hysterical. Hysteria + is always an easy stone to fling at an injured woman who asks for justice. + They would declare I had trumped up the case to forestall my dismissal. + They would set it down to spite. We can do nothing against him. Remember, + on his part, the utter absence of overt motive.” + </p> + <p> + “And you mean to stop on here, in close attendance on a man who has + attempted your life?” I cried, really alarmed for her safety. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure about that,” she answered. “I must take time to think. My + presence at Nathaniel's was necessary to my Plan. The Plan fails for the + present. I have now to look round and reconsider my position.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are not safe here now,” I urged, growing warm. “If Sebastian + really wishes to get rid of you, and is as unscrupulous as you suppose, + with his gigantic brain he can soon compass his end. What he plans he + executes. You ought not to remain within the Professor's reach one hour + longer.” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought of that, too,” she replied, with an almost unearthly calm. + “But there are difficulties either way. At any rate, I am glad he did not + succeed this time. For, to have killed me now, would have frustrated my + Plan”—she clasped her hands—“my Plan is ten thousand times + dearer than life to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear lady!” I cried, drawing a deep breath, “I implore you in this + strait, listen to what I urge. Why fight your battle alone? Why refuse + assistance? I have admired you so long—I am so eager to help you. If + only you will allow me to call you—” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes brightened and softened. Her whole bosom heaved. I felt in a + flash she was not wholly indifferent to me. Strange tremors in the air + seemed to play about us. But she waved me aside once more. “Don't press + me,” she said, in a very low voice. “Let me go my own way. It is hard + enough already, this task I have undertaken, without YOUR making it + harder.... Dear friend, dear friend, you don't quite understand. There are + TWO men at Nathaniel's whom I desire to escape—because they both + alike stand in the way of my Purpose.” She took my hands in hers. “Each in + a different way,” she murmured once more. “But each I must avoid. One is + Sebastian. The other—” she let my hand drop again, and broke off + suddenly. “Dear Hubert,” she cried, with a catch, “I cannot help it: + forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + It was the first time she had ever called me by my Christian name. The + mere sound of the word made me unspeakably happy. + </p> + <p> + Yet she waved me away. “Must I go?” I asked, quivering. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes: you must go. I cannot stand it. I must think this thing out, + undisturbed. It is a very great crisis.” + </p> + <p> + That afternoon and evening, by some unhappy chance, I was fully engaged in + work at the hospital. Late at night a letter arrived for me. I glanced at + it in dismay. It bore the Basingstoke postmark. But, to my alarm and + surprise, it was in Hilda's hand. What could this change portend? I opened + it, all tremulous. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR HUBERT,—” I gave a sigh of relief. It was no longer “Dear Dr. + Cumberledge” now, but “Hubert.” That was something gained, at any rate. I + read on with a beating heart. What had Hilda to say to me? + </p> + <p> + “DEAR HUBERT,—By the time this reaches you, I shall be far away, + irrevocably far, from London. With deep regret, with fierce searchings of + spirit, I have come to the conclusion that, for the Purpose I have in + view, it would be better for me at once to leave Nathaniel's. Where I go, + or what I mean to do, I do not wish to tell you. Of your charity, I pray, + refrain from asking me. I am aware that your kindness and generosity + deserve better recognition. But, like Sebastian himself, I am the slave of + my Purpose. I have lived for it all these years, and it is still very dear + to me. To tell you my plans would interfere with that end. Do not, + therefore, suppose I am insensible to your goodness.... Dear Hubert, spare + me—I dare not say more, lest I say too much. I dare not trust + myself. But one thing I MUST say. I am flying from YOU quite as much as + from Sebastian. Flying from my own heart, quite as much as from my enemy. + Some day, perhaps, if I accomplish my object, I may tell you all. + Meanwhile, I can only beg of you of your kindness to trust me. We shall + not meet again, I fear, for years. But I shall never forget you—you, + the kind counsellor, who have half turned me aside from my life's Purpose. + One word more, and I should falter.—In very great haste, and amid + much disturbance, yours ever affectionately and gratefully, + </p> + <p> + “HILDA.” + </p> + <p> + It was a hurried scrawl in pencil, as if written in a train. I felt + utterly dejected. Was Hilda, then, leaving England? + </p> + <p> + Rousing myself after some minutes, I went straight to Sebastian's rooms, + and told him in brief terms that Nurse Wade had disappeared at a moment's + notice, and had sent a note to tell me so. + </p> + <p> + He looked up from his work, and scanned me hard, as was his wont. “That is + well,” he said at last, his eyes glowing deep; “she was getting too great + a hold on you, that young woman!” + </p> + <p> + “She retains that hold upon me, sir,” I answered curtly. + </p> + <p> + “You are making a grave mistake in life, my dear Cumberledge,” he went on, + in his old genial tone, which I had almost forgotten. “Before you go + further, and entangle yourself more deeply, I think it is only right that + I should undeceive you as to this girl's true position. She is passing + under a false name, and she comes of a tainted stock.... Nurse Wade, as + she chooses to call herself, is a daughter of the notorious murderer, + Yorke-Bannerman.” + </p> + <p> + My mind leapt back to the incident of the broken basin. Yorke-Bannerman's + name had profoundly moved her. Then I thought of Hilda's face. Murderers, + I said to myself, do not beget such daughters as that. Not even accidental + murderers, like my poor friend Le Geyt. I saw at once the prima facie + evidence was strongly against her. But I had faith in her still. I drew + myself up firmly, and stared him back full in the face. “I do not believe + it,” I answered, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “You do not believe it? I tell you it is so. The girl herself as good as + acknowledged it to me.” + </p> + <p> + I spoke slowly and distinctly. “Dr. Sebastian,” I said, confronting him, + “let us be quite clear with one another. I have found you out. I know how + you tried to poison that lady. To poison her with bacilli which <i>I</i> + detected. I cannot trust your word; I cannot trust your inferences. Either + she is not Yorke-Bannerman's daughter at all, or else... Yorke-Bannerman + was NOT a murderer....” I watched his face closely. Conviction leaped upon + me. “And someone else was,” I went on. “I might put a name to him.” + </p> + <p> + With a stern white face, he rose and opened the door. He pointed to it + slowly. “This hospital is not big enough for you and me abreast,” he said, + with cold politeness. “One or other of us must go. Which, I leave to your + good sense to determine.” + </p> + <p> + Even at that moment of detection and disgrace, in one man's eyes, at + least, Sebastian retained his full measure of dignity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE LETTER WITH THE BASINGSTOKE POSTMARK + </h3> + <p> + I have a vast respect for my grandfather. He was a man of forethought. He + left me a modest little income of seven hundred a-year, well invested. + Now, seven hundred a-year is not exactly wealth; but it is an unobtrusive + competence; it permits a bachelor to move about the world and choose at + will his own profession. <i>I</i> chose medicine; but I was not wholly + dependent upon it. So I honoured my grandfather's wise disposition of his + worldly goods; though, oddly enough, my cousin Tom (to whom he left his + watch and five hundred pounds) speaks MOST disrespectfully of his + character and intellect. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to my grandfather's silken-sailed barque, therefore, when I found + myself practically dismissed from Nathaniel's I was not thrown on my + beam-ends, as most young men in my position would have been; I had time + and opportunity for the favourite pastime of looking about me. Of course, + had I chosen, I might have fought the case to the bitter end against + Sebastian; he could not dismiss me—that lay with the committee. But + I hardly cared to fight. In the first place, though I had found him out as + a man, I still respected him as a great teacher; and in the second place + (which is always more important), I wanted to find and follow Hilda. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, Hilda, in that enigmatic letter of hers, had implored me not + to seek her out; but I think you will admit there is one request which no + man can grant to the girl he loves—and that is the request to keep + away from her. If Hilda did not want ME, I wanted Hilda; and, being a man, + I meant to find her. + </p> + <p> + My chances of discovering her whereabouts, however, I had to confess to + myself (when it came to the point) were extremely slender. She had + vanished from my horizon, melted into space. My sole hint of a clue + consisted in the fact that the letter she sent me had been posted at + Basingstoke. Here, then, was my problem: given an envelope with the + Basingstoke postmark, to find in what part of Europe, Asia, Africa, or + America the writer of it might be discovered. It opened up a fine field + for speculation. + </p> + <p> + When I set out to face this broad puzzle, my first idea was: “I must ask + Hilda.” In all circumstances of difficulty, I had grown accustomed to + submitting my doubts and surmises to her acute intelligence; and her + instinct almost always supplied the right solution. But now Hilda was + gone; it was Hilda herself I wished to track through the labyrinth of the + world. I could expect no assistance in tracking her from Hilda. + </p> + <p> + “Let me think,” I said to myself, over a reflective pipe, with feet poised + on the fender. “How would Hilda herself have approached this problem? + Imagine I'm Hilda. I must try to strike a trail by applying her own + methods to her own character. She would have attacked the question, no + doubt,”—here I eyed my pipe wisely,—“from the psychological + side. She would have asked herself”—I stroked my chin—“what + such a temperament as hers was likely to do under such-and-such + circumstances. And she would have answered it aright. But then”—I + puffed away once or twice—“SHE is Hilda.” + </p> + <p> + When I came to reconnoitre the matter in this light, I became at once + aware how great a gulf separated the clumsy male intelligence from the + immediate and almost unerring intuitions of a clever woman. I am + considered no fool; in my own profession, I may venture to say, I was + Sebastian's favourite pupil. Yet, though I asked myself over and over + again where Hilda would be likely to go—Canada, China, Australia—as + the outcome of her character, in these given conditions, I got no answer. + I stared at the fire and reflected. I smoked two successive pipes, and + shook out the ashes. “Let me consider how Hilda's temperament would work,” + I said, looking sagacious. I said it several times—but there I + stuck. I went no further. The solution would not come. I felt that in + order to play Hilda's part, it was necessary first to have Hilda's + head-piece. Not every man can bend the bow of Ulysses. + </p> + <p> + As I turned the problem over in my mind, however, one phrase at last came + back to me—a phrase which Hilda herself had let fall when we were + debating a very similar point about poor Hugo Le Geyt: “If I were in his + place, what do you think I would do?—why, hide myself at once in the + greenest recesses of our Carnarvonshire mountains.” + </p> + <p> + She must have gone to Wales, then. I had her own authority for saying + so.... And yet—Wales? Wales? I pulled myself up with a jerk. In that + case, how did she come to be passing by Basingstoke? + </p> + <p> + Was the postmark a blind? Had she hired someone to take the letter + somewhere for her, on purpose to put me off on a false track? I could + hardly think so. Besides, the time was against it. I saw Hilda at + Nathaniel's in the morning; the very same evening I received the envelope + with the Basingstoke postmark. + </p> + <p> + “If I were in his place.” Yes, true; but, now I come to think on it, WERE + the positions really parallel? Hilda was not flying for her life from + justice; she was only endeavouring to escape Sebastian—and myself. + The instances she had quoted of the mountaineer's curious homing instinct—the + wild yearning he feels at moments of great straits to bury himself among + the nooks of his native hills—were they not all instances of + murderers pursued by the police? It was abject terror that drove these men + to their burrows. But Hilda was not a murderer; she was not dogged by + remorse, despair, or the myrmidons of the law; it was murder she was + avoiding, not the punishment of murder. That made, of course, an obvious + difference. “Irrevocably far from London,” she said. Wales is a suburb. I + gave up the idea that it was likely to prove her place of refuge from the + two men she was bent on escaping. Hong-Kong, after all, seemed more + probable than Llanberis. + </p> + <p> + That first failure gave me a clue, however, as to the best way of applying + Hilda's own methods. “What would such a person do under the + circumstances?” that was her way of putting the question. Clearly, then, I + must first decide what WERE the circumstances. Was Sebastian speaking the + truth? Was Hilda Wade, or was she not, the daughter of the supposed + murderer, Dr. Yorke-Bannerman? + </p> + <p> + I looked up as much of the case as I could, in unobtrusive ways, among the + old law-reports, and found that the barrister who had had charge of the + defence was my father's old friend, Mr. Horace Mayfield, a man of elegant + tastes, and the means to gratify them. + </p> + <p> + I went to call on him on Sunday evening at his artistically luxurious + house in Onslow Gardens. A sedate footman answered the bell. Fortunately, + Mr. Mayfield was at home, and, what is rarer, disengaged. You do not + always find a successful Q.C. at his ease among his books, beneath the + electric light, ready to give up a vacant hour to friendly colloquy. + </p> + <p> + “Remember Yorke-Bannerman's case?” he said, a huge smile breaking slowly + like a wave over his genial fat face—Horace Mayfield resembles a + great good-humoured toad, with bland manners and a capacious double chin—“I + should just say I DID! Bless my soul—why, yes,” he beamed, “I was + Yorke-Bannerman's counsel. Excellent fellow, Yorke-Bannerman—most + unfortunate end, though—precious clever chap, too! Had an astounding + memory. Recollected every symptom of every patient he ever attended. And + SUCH an eye! Diagnosis? It was clairvoyance! A gift—no less. Knew + what was the matter with you the moment he looked at you.” + </p> + <p> + That sounded like Hilda. The same surprising power of recalling facts; the + same keen faculty for interpreting character or the signs of feeling. “He + poisoned somebody, I believe,” I murmured, casually. “An uncle of his, or + something.” + </p> + <p> + Mayfield's great squat face wrinkled; the double chin, folding down on the + neck, became more ostentatiously double than ever. “Well, I can't admit + that,” he said, in his suave voice, twirling the string of his eye-glass. + “I was Yorke-Bannerman's advocate, you see; and therefore I was paid not + to admit it. Besides, he was a friend of mine, and I always liked him. But + I WILL allow that the case DID look a trifle black against him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha? Looked black, did it?” I faltered. + </p> + <p> + The judicious barrister shrugged his shoulders. A genial smile spread + oilily once more over his smooth face. “None of my business to say so,” he + answered, puckering the corners of his eyes. “Still, it was a long time + ago; and the circumstances certainly WERE suspicious. Perhaps, on the + whole, Hubert, it was just as well the poor fellow died before the trial + came off; otherwise”—he pouted his lips—“I might have had my + work cut out to save him.” And he eyed the blue china gods on the + mantelpiece affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “I believe the Crown urged money as the motive?” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + Mayfield glanced inquiry at me. “Now, why do you want to know all this?” + he asked, in a suspicious voice, coming back from his dragons. “It is + irregular, very, to worm information out of an innocent barrister in his + hours of ease about a former client. We are a guileless race, we lawyers; + don't abuse our confidence.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed an honest man, I thought, in spite of his mocking tone. I + trusted him, and made a clean breast of it. “I believe,” I answered, with + an impressive little pause, “I want to marry Yorke-Bannerman's daughter.” + </p> + <p> + He gave a quick start. “What, Maisie?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + I shook my head. “No, no; that is not the name,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a moment. “But there IS no other,” he hazarded cautiously at + last. “I knew the family.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure of it,” I went on. “I have merely my suspicions. I am in + love with a girl, and something about her makes me think she is probably a + Yorke-Bannerman.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Hubert, if that is so,” the great lawyer went on, waving me + off with one fat hand, “it must be at once apparent to you that <i>I</i> + am the last person on earth to whom you ought to apply for information. + Remember my oath. The practice of our clan: the seal of secrecy!” + </p> + <p> + I was frank once more. “I do not know whether the lady I mean is or is not + Yorke-Bannerman's daughter,” I persisted. “She may be, and she may not. + She gives another name—that's certain. But whether she is or isn't, + one thing I know—I mean to marry her. I believe in her; I trust her. + I only seek to gain this information now because I don't know where she is—and + I want to track her.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed his big hands with an air of Christian resignation, and looked + up at the panels of the coffered ceiling. “In that,” he answered, “I may + honestly say, I can't help you. Humbug apart, I have not known Mrs. + Yorke-Bannerman's address—or Maisie's either—ever since my + poor friend's death. Prudent woman, Mrs. Yorke-Bannerman! She went away, I + believe, to somewhere in North Wales, and afterwards to Brittany. But she + probably changed her name; and—she did not confide in me.” + </p> + <p> + I went on to ask him a few questions about the case, premising that I did + so in the most friendly spirit. “Oh, I can only tell you what is publicly + known,” he answered, beaming, with the usual professional pretence of the + most sphinx-like reticence. “But the plain facts, as universally admitted, + were these. I break no confidence. Yorke-Bannerman had a rich uncle from + whom he had expectations—a certain Admiral Scott Prideaux. This + uncle had lately made a will in Yorke-Bannerman's favour; but he was a + cantankerous old chap—naval, you know autocratic—crusty—given + to changing his mind with each change of the wind, and easily offended by + his relations—the sort of cheerful old party who makes a new will + once every month, disinheriting the nephew he last dined with. Well, one + day the Admiral was taken ill, at his own house, and Yorke-Bannerman + attended him. OUR contention was—I speak now as my old friend's + counsel—that Scott Prideaux, getting as tired of life as we were all + tired of him, and weary of this recurrent worry of will-making, determined + at last to clear out for good from a world where he was so little + appreciated, and, therefore, tried to poison himself.” + </p> + <p> + “With aconitine?” I suggested, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, yes; he made use of aconitine for that otherwise laudable + purpose. Now, as ill luck would have it”—Mayfield's wrinkles + deepened—“Yorke-Bannerman and Sebastian, then two rising doctors + engaged in physiological researches together, had just been occupied in + experimenting upon this very drug—testing the use of aconitine. + Indeed, you will no doubt remember”—he crossed his fat hands again + comfortably—“it was these precise researches on a then little-known + poison that first brought Sebastian prominently before the public. What + was the consequence?” His smooth, persuasive voice flowed on as if I were + a concentrated jury. “The Admiral grew rapidly worse, and insisted upon + calling in a second opinion. No doubt he didn't like the aconitine when it + came to the pinch—for it DOES pinch, I can tell you—and + repented him of his evil. Yorke-Bannerman suggested Sebastian as the + second opinion; the uncle acquiesced; Sebastian was called in, and, of + course, being fresh from his researches, immediately recognised the + symptoms of aconitine poisoning.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Sebastian found it out?” I cried, starting. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! Sebastian. He watched the case from that point to the end; and + the oddest part of it all was this—that though he communicated with + the police, and himself prepared every morsel of food that the poor old + Admiral took from that moment forth, the symptoms continually increased in + severity. The police contention was that Yorke-Bannerman somehow managed + to put the stuff into the milk beforehand; my own theory was—as + counsel for the accused”—he blinked his fat eyes—“that old + Prideaux had concealed a large quantity of aconitine in the bed, before + his illness, and went on taking it from time to time—just to spite + his nephew.” + </p> + <p> + “And you BELIEVE that, Mr. Mayfield?” + </p> + <p> + The broad smile broke concentrically in ripples over the great lawyer's + face. His smile was Mayfield's main feature. He shrugged his shoulders and + expanded his big hands wide open before him. “My dear Hubert,” he said, + with a most humorous expression of countenance, “you are a professional + man yourself; therefore you know that every profession has its own little + courtesies—its own small fictions. I was Yorke-Bannerman's counsel, + as well as his friend. 'Tis a point of honour with us that no barrister + will ever admit a doubt as to a client's innocence—is he not paid to + maintain it?—and to my dying day I will constantly maintain that old + Prideaux poisoned himself. Maintain it with that dogged and meaningless + obstinacy with which we always cling to whatever is least provable.... Oh, + yes! He poisoned himself; and Yorke-Bannerman was innocent.... But still, + you know, it WAS the sort of case where an acute lawyer, with a reputation + to make, would prefer to be for the Crown rather than for the prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “But it was never tried,” I ejaculated. + </p> + <p> + “No, happily for us, it was never tried. Fortune favoured us. + Yorke-Bannerman had a weak heart, a conveniently weak heart, which the + inquest sorely affected; and besides, he was deeply angry at what he + persisted in calling Sebastian's defection. He evidently thought Sebastian + ought to have stood by him. His colleague preferred the claims of public + duty—as he understood them, I mean—to those of private + friendship. It was a very sad case—for Yorke-Bannerman was really a + charming fellow. But I confess I WAS relieved when he died unexpectedly on + the morning of his arrest. It took off my shoulders a most serious + burden.” + </p> + <p> + “You think, then, the case would have gone against him?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Hubert,” his whole face puckered with an indulgent smile, “of + course the case must have gone against us. Juries are fools; but they are + not such fools as to swallow everything—like ostriches: to let me + throw dust in their eyes about so plain an issue. Consider the facts, + consider them impartially. Yorke-Bannerman had easy access to aconitine; + had whole ounces of it in his possession; he treated the uncle from whom + he was to inherit; he was in temporary embarrassments—that came out + at the inquest; it was known that the Admiral had just made a twenty-third + will in his favour, and that the Admiral's wills were liable to alteration + every time a nephew ventured upon an opinion in politics, religion, + science, navigation, or the right card at whist, differing by a shade from + that of the uncle. The Admiral died of aconitine poisoning; and Sebastian + observed and detailed the symptoms. Could anything be plainer—I + mean, could any combination of fortuitous circumstances”—he blinked + pleasantly again—“be more adverse to an advocate sincerely convinced + of his client's innocence—as a professional duty?” And he gazed at + me comically. + </p> + <p> + The more he piled up the case against the man who I now felt sure was + Hilda's father, the less did I believe him. A dark conspiracy seemed to + loom up in the background. “Has it ever occurred to you,” I asked, at + last, in a very tentative tone, “that perhaps—I throw out the hint + as the merest suggestion—perhaps it may have been Sebastian who—” + </p> + <p> + He smiled this time till I thought his smile would swallow him. + </p> + <p> + “If Yorke-Bannerman had NOT been my client,” he mused aloud, “I might have + been inclined to suspect rather that Sebastian aided him to avoid justice + by giving him something violent to take, if he wished it: something which + might accelerate the inevitable action of the heart-disease from which he + was suffering. Isn't THAT more likely?” + </p> + <p> + I saw there was nothing further to be got out of Mayfield. His opinion was + fixed; he was a placid ruminant. But he had given me already much food for + thought. I thanked him for his assistance, and returned on foot to my + rooms at the hospital. + </p> + <p> + I was now, however, in a somewhat different position for tracking Hilda + from that which I occupied before my interview with the famous counsel. I + felt certain by this time that Hilda Wade and Maisie Yorke-Bannerman were + one and the same person. To be sure, it gave me a twinge to think that + Hilda should be masquerading under an assumed name; but I waived that + question for the moment, and awaited her explanations. The great point now + was to find Hilda. She was flying from Sebastian to mature a new plan. But + whither? I proceeded to argue it out on her own principles; oh, how + lamely! The world is still so big! Mauritius, the Argentine, British + Columbia, New Zealand! + </p> + <p> + The letter I had received bore the Basingstoke postmark. Now a person may + be passing Basingstoke on his way either to Southampton or Plymouth, both + of which are ports of embarcation for various foreign countries. I + attached importance to that clue. Something about the tone of Hilda's + letter made me realise that she intended to put the sea between us. In + concluding so much, I felt sure I was not mistaken. Hilda had too big and + too cosmopolitan a mind to speak of being “irrevocably far from London,” + if she were only going to some town in England, or even to Normandy, or + the Channel Islands. “Irrevocably far” pointed rather to a destination + outside Europe altogether—to India, Africa, America: not to Jersey, + Dieppe, or Saint-Malo. + </p> + <p> + Was it Southampton or Plymouth to which she was first bound?—that + was the next question. I inclined to Southampton. For the sprawling lines + (so different from her usual neat hand) were written hurriedly in a train, + I could see; and, on consulting Bradshaw, I found that the Plymouth + expresses stop longest at Salisbury, where Hilda would, therefore, have + been likely to post her note if she were going to the far west; while some + of the Southampton trains stop at Basingstoke, which is, indeed, the most + convenient point on that route for sending off a letter. This was mere + blind guesswork, to be sure, compared with Hilda's immediate and unerring + intuition; but it had some probability in its favour, at any rate. Try + both: of the two, she was likelier to be going to Southampton. + </p> + <p> + My next move was to consult the list of outgoing steamers. Hilda had left + London on a Saturday morning. Now, on alternate Saturdays, the steamers of + the Castle line sail from Southampton, where they call to take up + passengers and mails. Was this one of those alternate Saturdays? I looked + at the list of dates: it was. That told further in favour of Southampton. + But did any steamer of any passenger line sail from Plymouth on the same + day? None, that I could find. Or from Southampton elsewhere? I looked them + all up. The Royal Mail Company's boats start on Wednesdays; the North + German Lloyd's on Wednesdays and Sundays. Those were the only likely + vessels I could discover. Either, then, I concluded, Hilda meant to sail + on Saturday by the Castle line for South Africa, or else on Sunday by + North German Lloyd for some part of America. + </p> + <p> + How I longed for one hour of Hilda to help me out with her almost + infallible instinct. I realised how feeble and fallacious was my own + groping in the dark. Her knowledge of temperament would have revealed to + her at once what I was trying to discover, like the police she despised, + by the clumsy “clues” which so roused her sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + However, I went to bed and slept on it. Next morning I determined to set + out for Southampton on a tour of inquiry to all the steamboat agencies. If + that failed, I could go on to Plymouth. + </p> + <p> + But, as chance would have it, the morning post brought me an unexpected + letter, which helped me not a little in unravelling the problem. It was a + crumpled letter, written on rather soiled paper, in an uneducated hand, + and it bore, like Hilda's, the Basingstoke postmark. + </p> + <p> + “Charlotte Churtwood sends her duty to Dr. Cumberledge,” it said, with + somewhat uncertain spelling, “and I am very sorry that I was not able to + Post the letter to you in London, as the lady ast me, but after her train + ad left has I was stepping into mine the Ingine started and I was knocked + down and badly hurt and the lady gave me a half-sovering to Post it in + London has soon as I got there but bein unable to do so I now return it + dear sir not knowing the lady's name and adress she having trusted me + through seeing me on the platform, and perhaps you can send it back to + her, and was very sorry I could not Post it were she ast me, but time bein + an objeck put it in the box in Basingstoke station and now inclose post + office order for ten Shillings whitch dear sir kindly let the young lady + have from your obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + “CHARLOTTE CHURTWOOD.” + </p> + <p> + In the corner was the address: “11, Chubb's Cottages, Basingstoke.” + </p> + <p> + The happy accident of this letter advanced things for me greatly—though + it also made me feel how dependent I was upon happy accidents, where Hilda + would have guessed right at once by mere knowledge of character. Still, + the letter explained many things which had hitherto puzzled me. I had felt + not a little surprise that Hilda, wishing to withdraw from me and leave no + traces, should have sent off her farewell letter from Basingstoke—so + as to let me see at once in what direction she was travelling. Nay, I even + wondered at times whether she had really posted it herself at Basingstoke, + or given it to somebody who chanced to be going there to post for her as a + blind. But I did not think she would deliberately deceive me; and, in my + opinion, to get a letter posted at Basingstoke would be deliberate + deception, while to get it posted in London was mere vague precaution. I + understood now that she had written it in the train, and then picked out a + likely person as she passed to take it to Waterloo for her. + </p> + <p> + Of course, I went straight down to Basingstoke, and called at once at + Chubb's Cottages. It was a squalid little row on the outskirts of the + town. I found Charlotte Churtwood herself exactly such a girl as Hilda, + with her quick judgment of character, might have hit upon for such a + purpose. She was a conspicuously honest and transparent country servant, + of the lumpy type, on her way to London to take a place as housemaid. Her + injuries were severe, but not dangerous. “The lady saw me on the + platform,” she said, “and beckoned to me to come to her. She ast me where + I was going, and I says, 'To London, miss.' Says she, smiling kind-like, + 'Could you post a letter for me, certain sure?' Says I, 'You can depend + upon me.' An' then she give me the arf-sovering, an' says, says she, + 'Mind, it's VERY par-tickler; if the gentleman don't get it, 'e'll fret + 'is 'eart out.' An' through 'aving a young man o' my own, as is a groom at + Andover, o' course I understood 'er, sir. An' then, feeling all full of + it, as yu may say, what with the arf-sovering, and what with one thing and + what with another, an' all of a fluster with not being used to travelling, + I run up, when the train for London come in, an' tried to scramble into + it, afore it 'ad quite stopped moving. An' a guard, 'e rushes up, an' + 'Stand back!' says 'e; 'wait till the train stops,' says 'e, an' waves his + red flag at me. But afore I could stand back, with one foot on the step, + the train sort of jumped away from me, and knocked me down like this; and + they say it'll be a week now afore I'm well enough to go on to London. But + I posted the letter all the same, at Basingstoke station, as they was + carrying me off; an' I took down the address, so as to return the + arf-sovering.” Hilda was right, as always. She had chosen instinctively + the trustworthy person,—chosen her at first sight, and hit the + bull's-eye. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what train the lady was in?” I asked, as she paused. “Where + was it going, did you notice?” + </p> + <p> + “It was the Southampton train, sir. I saw the board on the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + That settled the question. “You are a good and an honest girl,” I said, + pulling out my purse; “and you came to this misfortune through trying—too + eagerly—to help the young lady. A ten-pound note is not overmuch as + compensation for your accident. Take it, and get well. I should be sorry + to think you lost a good place through your anxiety to help us.” + </p> + <p> + The rest of my way was plain sailing now. I hurried on straight to + Southampton. There my first visit was to the office of the Castle line. I + went to the point at once. Was there a Miss Wade among the passengers by + the Dunottar Castle? + </p> + <p> + No; nobody of that name on the list. + </p> + <p> + Had any lady taken a passage at the last moment? + </p> + <p> + The clerk perpended. Yes; a lady had come by the mail train from London, + with no heavy baggage, and had gone on board direct, taking what cabin she + could get. A young lady in grey. Quite unprepared. Gave no name. Called + away in a hurry. + </p> + <p> + What sort of lady? + </p> + <p> + Youngish; good-looking; brown hair and eyes, the clerk thought; a sort of + creamy skin; and a—well, a mesmeric kind of glance that seemed to go + right through you. + </p> + <p> + “That will do,” I answered, sure now of my quarry. “To which port did she + book?” + </p> + <p> + “To Cape Town.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I said, promptly. “You may reserve me a good berth in the + next outgoing steamer.” + </p> + <p> + It was just like Hilda's impulsive character to rush off in this way at a + moment's notice; and just like mine to follow her. But it piqued me a + little to think that, but for the accident of an accident, I might never + have tracked her down. If the letter had been posted in London as she + intended, and not at Basingstoke, I might have sought in vain for her from + then till Doomsday. + </p> + <p> + Ten days later, I was afloat on the Channel, bound for South Africa. + </p> + <p> + I always admired Hilda's astonishing insight into character and motive; + but I never admired it quite so profoundly as on the glorious day when we + arrived at Cape Town. I was standing on deck, looking out for the first + time in my life on that tremendous view—the steep and massive bulk + of Table Mountain,—a mere lump of rock, dropped loose from the sky, + with the long white town spread gleaming at its base, and the silver-tree + plantations that cling to its lower slopes and merge by degrees into + gardens and vineyards—when a messenger from the shore came up to me + tentatively. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Cumberledge?” he said, in an inquiring tone. + </p> + <p> + I nodded. “That is my name.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a letter for you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + I took it, in great surprise. Who on earth in Cape Town could have known I + was coming? I had not a friend to my knowledge in the colony. I glanced at + the envelope. My wonder deepened. That prescient brain! It was Hilda's + handwriting. + </p> + <p> + I tore it open and read: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR HUBERT,—I KNOW you will come; I KNOW you will follow me. So + I am leaving this letter at Donald Currie & Co.'s office, giving their + agent instructions to hand it to you as soon as you reach Cape Town. I am + quite sure you will track me so far at least; I understand your + temperament. But I beg you, I implore you, to go no further. You will ruin + my plan if you do. And I still adhere to it. It is good of you to come so + far; I cannot blame you for that. I know your motives. But do not try to + find me out. I warn you, beforehand, it will be quite useless. I have made + up my mind. I have an object in life, and, dear as you are to me—THAT + I will not pretend to deny—I can never allow even YOU to interfere + with it. So be warned in time. Go back quietly by the next steamer. + </p> + <p> + “Your ever attached and grateful, + </p> + <p> + “HILDA.” + </p> + <p> + I read it twice through with a little thrill of joy. Did any man ever + court so strange a love? Her very strangeness drew me. But go back by the + next steamer! I felt sure of one thing: Hilda was far too good a judge of + character to believe that I was likely to obey that mandate. + </p> + <p> + I will not trouble you with the remaining stages of my quest. Except for + the slowness of South African mail coaches, they were comparatively easy. + It is not so hard to track strangers in Cape Town as strangers in London. + I followed Hilda to her hotel, and from her hotel up country, stage after + stage—jolted by rail, worse jolted by mule-waggon—inquiring, + inquiring, inquiring—till I learned at last she was somewhere in + Rhodesia. + </p> + <p> + That is a big address; but it does not cover as many names as it covers + square miles. In time I found her. Still, it took time; and before we met, + Hilda had had leisure to settle down quietly to her new existence. People + in Rhodesia had noted her coming, as a new portent, because of one strange + peculiarity. She was the only woman of means who had ever gone up of her + own free will to Rhodesia. Other women had gone there to accompany their + husbands, or to earn their livings; but that a lady should freely select + that half-baked land as a place of residence—a lady of position, + with all the world before her where to choose—that puzzled the + Rhodesians. So she was a marked person. Most people solved the vexed + problem, indeed, by suggesting that she had designs against the stern + celibacy of a leading South African politician. “Depend upon it,” they + said, “it's Rhodes she's after.” The moment I arrived at Salisbury, and + stated my object in coming, all the world in the new town was ready to + assist me. The lady was to be found (vaguely speaking) on a young farm to + the north—a budding farm, whose general direction was expansively + indicated to me by a wave of the arm, with South African uncertainty. + </p> + <p> + I bought a pony at Salisbury—a pretty little seasoned sorrel mare—and + set out to find Hilda. My way lay over a brand-new road, or what passes + for a road in South Africa—very soft and lumpy, like an English + cart-track. I am a fair cross-country rider in our own Midlands, but I + never rode a more tedious journey than that one. I had crawled several + miles under a blazing sun along the shadeless new track, on my African + pony, when, to my surprise I saw, of all sights in the world, a bicycle + coming towards me. + </p> + <p> + I could hardly believe my eyes. Civilisation indeed! A bicycle in these + remotest wilds of Africa! + </p> + <p> + I had been picking my way for some hours through a desolate plateau—the + high veldt—about five thousand feet above the sea level, and + entirely treeless. In places, to be sure, a few low bushes of prickly + aspect rose in tangled clumps; but for the most part the arid table-land + was covered by a thick growth of short brown grass, about nine inches + high, burnt up in the sun, and most wearisome to look at. The distressing + nakedness of a new country confronted me. Here and there a bald farm or + two had been literally pegged out—the pegs were almost all one saw + of them as yet; the fields were in the future. Here and there, again, a + scattered range of low granite hills, known locally as kopjes—red, + rocky prominences, flaunting in the sunshine—diversified the + distance. But the road itself, such as it was, lay all on the high plain, + looking down now and again into gorges or kloofs, wooded on their slopes + with scrubby trees, and comparatively well-watered. In the midst of all + this crude, unfinished land, the mere sight of a bicycle, bumping over the + rubbly road, was a sufficient surprise; but my astonishment reached a + climax when I saw, as it drew near, that it was ridden by a woman! + </p> + <p> + One moment later I had burst into a wild cry, and rode forward to her + hurriedly. “Hilda!” I shouted aloud, in my excitement: “Hilda!” + </p> + <p> + She stepped lightly from her pedals, as if it had been in the park: head + erect and proud; eyes liquid, lustrous. I dismounted, trembling, and stood + beside her. In the wild joy of the moment, for the first time in my life, + I kissed her fervently. Hilda took the kiss, unreproving. She did not + attempt to refuse me. + </p> + <p> + “So you have come at last!” she murmured, with a glow on her face, half + nestling towards me, half withdrawing, as if two wills tore her in + different directions. “I have been expecting you for some days; and, + somehow, to-day, I was almost certain you were coming!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not angry with me?” I cried. “You remember, you forbade me!” + </p> + <p> + “Angry with you? Dear Hubert, could I ever be angry with you, especially + for thus showing me your devotion and your trust? I am never angry with + you. When one knows, one understands. I have thought of you so often; + sometimes, alone here in this raw new land, I have longed for you to come. + It is inconsistent of me, of course; but I am so solitary, so lonely!” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you begged me not to follow you!” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at me shyly—I was not accustomed to see Hilda shy. Her + eyes gazed deep into mine beneath the long, soft lashes. “I begged you not + to follow me,” she repeated, a strange gladness in her tone. “Yes, dear + Hubert, I begged you—and I meant it. Cannot you understand that + sometimes one hopes a thing may never happen—and is supremely happy + because it happens, in spite of one? I have a purpose in life for which I + live: I live for it still. For its sake I told you you must not come to + me. Yet you HAVE come, against my orders; and—” she paused, and drew + a deep sigh—“oh, Hubert, I thank you for daring to disobey me!” + </p> + <p> + I clasped her to my bosom. She allowed me, half resisting. “I am too + weak,” she murmured. “Only this morning, I made up my mind that when I saw + you I would implore you to return at once. And now that you are here—” + she laid her little hand confidingly in mine—“see how foolish I am!—I + cannot dismiss you.” + </p> + <p> + “Which means to say, Hilda, that, after all, you are still a woman!” + </p> + <p> + “A woman; oh, yes; very much a woman! Hubert, I love you; I half wish I + did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, darling?” I drew her to me. + </p> + <p> + “Because—if I did not, I could send you away—so easily! As it + is—I cannot let you stop—and... I cannot dismiss you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then divide it,” I cried gaily; “do neither; come away with me!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; nor that, either. I will not stultify my whole past life. I will + not dishonour my dear father's memory.” + </p> + <p> + I looked around for something to which to tether my horse. A bridle is in + one's way—when one has to discuss important business. There was + really nothing about that seemed fit for the purpose. Hilda saw what I + sought, and pointed mutely to a stunted bush beside a big granite boulder + which rose abruptly from the dead level of the grass, affording a little + shade from that sweltering sunlight. I tied my mare to the gnarled root—it + was the only part big enough—and sat down by Hilda's side, under the + shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land. I realised at that moment the + force and appropriateness of the Psalmist's simile. The sun beat fiercely + on the seeding grasses. Away on the southern horizon we could faintly + perceive the floating yellow haze of the prairie fires lit by the + Mashonas. + </p> + <p> + “Then you knew I would come?” I began, as she seated herself on the + burnt-up herbage, while my hand stole into hers, to nestle there + naturally. + </p> + <p> + She pressed it in return. “Oh, yes; I knew you would come,” she answered, + with that strange ring of confidence in her voice. “Of course you got my + letter at Cape Town?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, Hilda—and I wondered at you more than ever as I read it. But + if you KNEW I would come, why write to prevent me?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes had their mysterious far-away air. She looked out upon infinity. + “Well, I wanted to do my best to turn you aside,” she said, slowly. “One + must always do one's best, even when one feels and believes it is useless. + That surely is the first clause in a doctor's or a nurse's rubric.” + </p> + <p> + “But WHY didn't you want me to come?” I persisted. “Why fight against your + own heart? Hilda, I am sure—I KNOW you love me.” + </p> + <p> + Her bosom rose and fell. Her eyes dilated. “Love you?” she cried, looking + away over the bushy ridges, as if afraid to trust herself. “Oh, yes, + Hubert, I love you! It is not for that that I wish to avoid you. Or, + rather, it is just because of that. I cannot endure to spoil your life—by + a fruitless affection.” + </p> + <p> + “Why fruitless?” I asked, leaning forward. + </p> + <p> + She crossed her hands resignedly. “You know all by this time,” she + answered. “Sebastian would tell you, of course, when you went to announce + that you were leaving Nathaniel's. He could not do otherwise; it is the + outcome of his temperament—an integral part of his nature.” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda,” I cried, “you are a witch! How COULD you know that? I can't + imagine.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled her restrained, Chaldean smile. “Because I KNOW Sebastian,” she + answered, quietly. “I can read that man to the core. He is simple as a + book. His composition is plain, straightforward, quite natural, uniform. + There are no twists and turns in him. Once learn the key, and it discloses + everything, like an open sesame. He has a gigantic intellect, a burning + thirst for knowledge; one love, one hobby—science; and no moral + instincts. He goes straight for his ends; and whatever comes in his way,” + she dug her little heel in the brown soil, “he tramples on it as + ruthlessly as a child will trample on a worm or a beetle.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” I said, “he is so great.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, great, I grant you; but the easiest character to unravel that I have + ever met. It is calm, austere, unbending, yet not in the least degree + complex. He has the impassioned temperament, pushed to its highest pitch; + the temperament that runs deep, with irresistible force; but the passion + that inspires him, that carries him away headlong, as love carries some + men, is a rare and abstract one—the passion of science.” + </p> + <p> + I gazed at her as she spoke, with a feeling akin to awe. “It must destroy + the plot-interest of life for you, Hilda,” I cried—out there in the + vast void of that wild African plateau—“to foresee so well what each + person will do—how each will act under such given circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + She pulled a bent of grass and plucked off its dry spikelets one by one. + “Perhaps so,” she answered, after a meditative pause; “though, of course, + all natures are not equally simple. Only with great souls can you be sure + beforehand like that, for good or for evil. It is essential to anything + worth calling character that one should be able to predict in what way it + will act under given circumstances—to feel certain, 'This man will + do nothing small or mean,' 'That one could never act dishonestly, or speak + deceitfully.' But smaller natures are more complex. They defy analysis, + because their motives are not consistent.” + </p> + <p> + “Most people think to be complex is to be great,” I objected. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “That is quite a mistake,” she answered. “Great + natures are simple, and relatively predictable, since their motives + balance one another justly. Small natures are complex, and hard to + predict, because small passions, small jealousies, small discords and + perturbations come in at all moments, and override for a time the + permanent underlying factors of character. Great natures, good or bad, are + equably poised; small natures let petty motives intervene to upset their + balance.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you knew I would come,” I exclaimed, half pleased to find I belonged + inferentially to her higher category. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes beamed on me with a beautiful light. “Knew you would come? Oh, + yes. I begged you not to come; but I felt sure you were too deeply in + earnest to obey me. I asked a friend in Cape Town to telegraph your + arrival; and almost ever since the telegram reached me I have been + expecting you and awaiting you.” + </p> + <p> + “So you believed in me?” + </p> + <p> + “Implicitly—as you in me. That is the worst of it, Hubert. If you + did NOT believe in me, I could have told you all—and then, you would + have left me. But, as it is, you KNOW all—and yet, you want to cling + to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You know I know all—because Sebastian told me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and I think I even know how you answered him.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + She paused. The calm smile lighted up her face once more. Then she drew + out a pencil. “You think life must lack plot-interest for me,” she began, + slowly, “because, with certain natures, I can partially guess beforehand + what is coming. But have you not observed that, in reading a novel, part + of the pleasure you feel arises from your conscious anticipation of the + end, and your satisfaction in seeing that you anticipated correctly? Or + part, sometimes, from the occasional unexpectedness of the real + denouement? Well, life is like that. I enjoy observing my successes, and, + in a way, my failures. Let me show you what I mean. I think I know what + you said to Sebastian—not the words, of course, but the purport; and + I will write it down now for you. Set down YOUR version, too. And then we + will compare them.” + </p> + <p> + It was a crucial test. We both wrote for a minute or two. Somehow, in + Hilda's presence, I forgot at once the strangeness of the scene, the weird + oddity of the moment. That sombre plain disappeared for me. I was only + aware that I was with Hilda once more—and therefore in Paradise. + Pison and Gihon watered the desolate land. Whatever she did seemed to me + supremely right. If she had proposed to me to begin a ponderous work on + Medical Jurisprudence, under the shadow of the big rock, I should have + begun it incontinently. + </p> + <p> + She handed me her slip of paper; I took it and read: “Sebastian told you I + was Dr. Yorke-Bannerman's daughter. And you answered, 'If so, + Yorke-Bannerman was innocent, and YOU are the poisoner.' Is not that + correct?” + </p> + <p> + I handed her in answer my own paper. She read it with a faint flush. When + she came to the words: “Either she is not Yorke-Bannerman's daughter; or + else, Yorke-Bannerman was not a poisoner, and someone else was—I + might put a name to him,” she rose to her feet with a great rush of + long-suppressed feeling, and clasped me passionately. “My Hubert!” she + cried, “I read you aright. I knew it! I was sure of you!” + </p> + <p> + I folded her in my arms, there, on the rusty-red South African desert. + “Then, Hilda dear,” I murmured, “you will consent to marry me?” + </p> + <p> + The words brought her back to herself. She unfolded my arms with slow + reluctance. “No, dearest,” she said, earnestly, with a face where pride + fought hard against love. “That is WHY, above all things, I did not want + you to follow me. I love you; I trust you: you love me; you trust me. But + I never will marry anyone till I have succeeded in clearing my father's + memory. I KNOW he did not do it; I KNOW Sebastian did. But that is not + enough. I must prove it, I must prove it!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it already,” I answered. “What need, then, to prove it?” + </p> + <p> + “To you, Hubert? Oh, no; not to you. There I am safe. But to the world + that condemned him—condemned him untried. I must vindicate him; I + must clear him!” + </p> + <p> + I bent my face close to hers. “But may I not marry you first?” I asked—“and + after that, I can help you to clear him.” + </p> + <p> + She gazed at me fearlessly. “No, no!” she cried, clasping her hands; “much + as I love you, dear Hubert, I cannot consent to it. I am too proud!—too + proud! I will not allow the world to say—not even to say falsely”—her + face flushed crimson; her voice dropped low—“I will not allow them + to say those hateful words, 'He married a murderer's daughter.'” + </p> + <p> + I bowed my head. “As you will, my darling,” I answered. “I am content to + wait. I trust you in this, too. Some day, we will prove it.” + </p> + <p> + And all this time, preoccupied as I was with these deeper concerns, I had + not even asked where Hilda lived, or what she was doing! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE STONE THAT LOOKED ABOUT IT + </h3> + <p> + Hilda took me back with her to the embryo farm where she had pitched her + tent for the moment; a rough, wild place. It lay close to the main road + from Salisbury to Chimoio. + </p> + <p> + Setting aside the inevitable rawness and newness of all things Rhodesian, + however, the situation itself was not wholly unpicturesque. A ramping rock + or tor of granite, which I should judge at a rough guess to extend to an + acre in size, sprang abruptly from the brown grass of the upland plain. It + rose like a huge boulder. Its summit was crowned by the covered grave of + some old Kaffir chief—a rude cairn of big stones under a thatched + awning. At the foot of this jagged and cleft rock the farmhouse nestled—four + square walls of wattle-and-daub, sheltered by its mass from the sweeping + winds of the South African plateau. A stream brought water from a spring + close by: in front of the house—rare sight in that thirsty land—spread + a garden of flowers. It was an oasis in the desert. But the desert itself + stretched grimly all round. I could never quite decide how far the oasis + was caused by the water from the spring, and how far by Hilda's presence. + </p> + <p> + “Then you live here?” I cried, gazing round—my voice, I suppose, + betraying my latent sense of the unworthiness of the position. + </p> + <p> + “For the present,” Hilda answered, smiling. “You know, Hubert, I have no + abiding city anywhere, till my Purpose is fulfilled. I came here because + Rhodesia seemed the farthest spot on earth where a white woman just now + could safely penetrate—in order to get away from you and Sebastian.” + </p> + <p> + “That is an unkind conjunction!” I exclaimed, reddening. + </p> + <p> + “But I mean it,” she answered, with a wayward little nod. “I wanted + breathing-space to form fresh plans. I wanted to get clear away for a time + from all who knew me. And this promised best.... But nowadays, really, one + is never safe from intrusion anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “You are cruel, Hilda!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. You deserve it. I asked you not to come—and you came in + spite of me. I have treated you very nicely under the circumstances, I + think. I have behaved like an angel. The question is now, what ought I to + do next? You have upset my plans so.” + </p> + <p> + “Upset your plans? How?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Hubert,”—she turned to me with an indulgent smile,—“for + a clever man, you are really TOO foolish! Can't you see that you have + betrayed my whereabouts to Sebastian? <i>I</i> crept away secretly, like a + thief in the night, giving no name or place; and, having the world to + ransack, he might have found it hard to track me; for HE had not YOUR clue + of the Basingstoke letter—nor your reason for seeking me. But now + that YOU have followed me openly, with your name blazoned forth in the + company's passenger-lists, and your traces left plain in hotels and stages + across the map of South Africa—why, the spoor is easy. If Sebastian + cares to find us, he can follow the scent all through without trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “I never thought of that!” I cried, aghast. + </p> + <p> + She was forbearance itself. “No, I knew you would never think of it. You + are a man, you see. I counted that in. I was afraid from the first you + would wreck all by following me.” + </p> + <p> + I was mutely penitent. “And yet, you forgive me, Hilda?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes beamed tenderness. “To know all, is to forgive all,” she + answered. “I have to remind you of that so often! How can I help + forgiving, when I know WHY you came—what spur it was that drove you? + But it is the future we have to think of now, not the past. And I must + wait and reflect. I have NO plan just at present.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing at this farm?” I gazed round at it, dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + “I board here,” Hilda answered, amused at my crestfallen face. “But, of + course, I cannot be idle; so I have found work to do. I ride out on my + bicycle to two or three isolated houses about, and give lessons to + children in this desolate place, who would otherwise grow up ignorant. It + fills my time, and supplies me with something besides myself to think + about.” + </p> + <p> + “And what am <i>I</i> to do?” I cried, oppressed with a sudden sense of + helplessness. + </p> + <p> + She laughed at me outright. “And is this the first moment that that + difficulty has occurred to you?” she asked, gaily. “You have hurried all + the way from London to Rhodesia without the slightest idea of what you + mean to do now you have got here?” + </p> + <p> + I laughed at myself in turn. “Upon my word, Hilda,” I cried, “I set out to + find you. Beyond the desire to find you, I had no plan in my head. That + was an end in itself. My thoughts went no farther.” + </p> + <p> + She gazed at me half saucily. “Then don't you think, sir, the best thing + you can do, now you HAVE found me, is—to turn back and go home + again?” + </p> + <p> + “I am a man,” I said, promptly, taking a firm stand. “And you are a judge + of character. If you really mean to tell me you think THAT likely—well, + I shall have a lower opinion of your insight into men than I have been + accustomed to harbour.” + </p> + <p> + Her smile was not wholly without a touch of triumph. + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” she went on, “I suppose the only alternative is for you to + remain here.” + </p> + <p> + “That would appear to be logic,” I replied. “But what can I do? Set up in + practice?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see much opening,” she answered. “If you ask my advice, I should + say there is only one thing to be done in Rhodesia just now—turn + farmer.” + </p> + <p> + “It IS done,” I answered, with my usual impetuosity. “Since YOU say the + word, I am a farmer already. I feel an interest in oats that is simply + absorbing. What steps ought I to take first in my present condition?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me, all brown with the dust of my long ride. “I would + suggest,” she said slowly, “a good wash, and some dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda,” I cried, surveying my boots, or what was visible of them, “that + is REALLY clever of you. A wash and some dinner! So practical, so timely! + The very thing! I will see to it.” + </p> + <p> + Before night fell, I had arranged everything. I was to buy the next farm + from the owner of the one where Hilda lodged; I was also to learn the + rudiments of South African agriculture from him for a valuable + consideration; and I was to lodge in his house while my own was building. + He gave me his views on the cultivation of oats. He gave them at some + length—more length than perspicuity. I knew nothing about oats, save + that they were employed in the manufacture of porridge—which I + detest; but I was to be near Hilda once more, and I was prepared to + undertake the superintendence of the oat from its birth to its reaping if + only I might be allowed to live so close to Hilda. + </p> + <p> + The farmer and his wife were Boers, but they spoke English. Mr. Jan Willem + Klaas himself was a fine specimen of the breed—tall, erect, + broad-shouldered, and genial. Mrs. Klaas, his wife, was mainly suggestive, + in mind and person, of suet-pudding. There was one prattling little girl + of three years old, by name Sannie, a most engaging child; and also a + chubby baby. + </p> + <p> + “You are betrothed, of course?” Mrs. Klaas said to Hilda before me, with + the curious tactlessness of her race, when we made our first arrangement. + </p> + <p> + Hilda's face flushed. “No; we are nothing to one another,” she answered—which + was only true formally. “Dr. Cumberledge had a post at the same hospital + in London where I was a nurse; and he thought he would like to try + Rhodesia. That is all.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Klaas gazed from one to other of us suspiciously. “You English are + strange!” she answered, with a complacent little shrug. “But there—from + Europe! Your ways, we know, are different.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda did not attempt to explain. It would have been impossible to make + the good soul understand. Her horizon was so simple. She was a harmless + housewife, given mostly to dyspepsia and the care of her little ones. + Hilda had won her heart by unfeigned admiration for the chubby baby. To a + mother, that covers a multitude of eccentricities, such as one expects to + find in incomprehensible English. Mrs. Klaas put up with me because she + liked Hilda. + </p> + <p> + We spent some months together on Klaas's farm. It was a dreary place, save + for Hilda. The bare daub-and-wattle walls; the clumps of misshapen and + dusty prickly-pears that girt round the thatched huts of the Kaffir + workpeople; the stone-penned sheep-kraals, and the corrugated iron roof of + the bald stable for the waggon oxen—all was as crude and ugly as a + new country can make things. It seemed to me a desecration that Hilda + should live in such an unfinished land—Hilda, whom I imagined as + moving by nature through broad English parks, with Elizabethan cottages + and immemorial oaks—Hilda, whose proper atmosphere seemed to be one + of coffee-coloured laces, ivy-clad abbeys, lichen-incrusted walls—all + that is beautiful and gracious in time-honoured civilisations. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, we lived on there in a meaningless sort of way—I + hardly knew why. To me it was a puzzle. When I asked Hilda, she shook her + head with her sibylline air and answered, confidently: “You do not + understand Sebastian as well as I do. We have to wait for HIM. The next + move is his. Till he plays his piece, I cannot tell how I may have to + checkmate him.” + </p> + <p> + So we waited for Sebastian to advance a pawn. Meanwhile, I toyed with + South African farming—not very successfully, I must admit. Nature + did not design me for growing oats. I am no judge of oxen, and my views on + the feeding of Kaffir sheep raised broad smiles on the black faces of my + Mashona labourers. + </p> + <p> + I still lodged at Tant Mettie's, as everybody called Mrs. Klaas; she was + courtesy aunt to the community at large, while Oom Jan Willem was its + courtesy uncle. They were simple, homely folk, who lived up to their + religious principles on an unvaried diet of stewed ox-beef and bread; they + suffered much from chronic dyspepsia, due in part, at least, no doubt, to + the monotony of their food, their life, their interests. One could hardly + believe one was still in the nineteenth century; these people had the + calm, the local seclusion of the prehistoric epoch. For them, Europe did + not exist; they knew it merely as a place where settlers came from. What + the Czar intended, what the Kaiser designed, never disturbed their rest. A + sick ox, a rattling tile on the roof, meant more to their lives than war + in Europe. The one break in the sameness of their daily routine was family + prayers; the one weekly event, going to church at Salisbury. Still, they + had a single enthusiasm. Like everybody else for fifty miles around, they + believed profoundly in the “future of Rhodesia.” When I gazed about me at + the raw new land—the weary flat of red soil and brown grasses—I + felt at least that, with a present like that, it had need of a future. + </p> + <p> + I am not by disposition a pioneer; I belong instinctively to the old + civilisations. In the midst of rudimentary towns and incipient fields, I + yearn for grey houses, a Norman church, an English thatched cottage. + </p> + <p> + However, for Hilda's sake, I braved it out, and continued to learn the A B + C of agriculture on an unmade farm with great assiduity from Oom Jan + Willem. + </p> + <p> + We had been stopping some months at Klaas's together when business + compelled me one day to ride in to Salisbury. I had ordered some goods for + my farm from England which had at last arrived. I had now to arrange for + their conveyance from the town to my plot of land—a portentous + matter. Just as I was on the point of leaving Klaas's, and was tightening + the saddle-girth on my sturdy little pony, Oom Jan Willem himself sidled + up to me with a mysterious air, his broad face all wrinkled with + anticipatory pleasure. He placed a sixpence in my palm, glancing about him + on every side as he did so, like a conspirator. + </p> + <p> + “What am I to buy with it?” I asked, much puzzled, and suspecting tobacco. + Tant Mettie declared he smoked too much for a church elder. + </p> + <p> + He put his finger to his lips, nodded, and peered round. “Lollipops for + Sannie,” he whispered low, at last, with a guilty smile. “But”—he + glanced about him again—“give them to me, please, when Tant Mettie + isn't looking.” His nod was all mystery. + </p> + <p> + “You may rely on my discretion,” I replied, throwing the time-honoured + prejudices of the profession to the winds, and well pleased to aid and + abet the simple-minded soul in his nefarious designs against little + Sannie's digestive apparatus. He patted me on the back. “PEPPERMINT + lollipops, mind!” he went on, in the same solemn undertone. “Sannie likes + them best—peppermint.” + </p> + <p> + I put my foot in the stirrup, and vaulted into my saddle. “They shall not + be forgotten,” I answered, with a quiet smile at this pretty little + evidence of fatherly feeling. I rode off. It was early morning, before the + heat of the day began. Hilda accompanied me part of the way on her + bicycle. She was going to the other young farm, some eight miles off, + across the red-brown plateau, where she gave lessons daily to the ten-year + old daughter of an English settler. It was a labour of love; for settlers + in Rhodesia cannot afford to pay for what are beautifully described as + “finishing governesses”; but Hilda was of the sort who cannot eat the + bread of idleness. She had to justify herself to her kind by finding some + work to do which should vindicate her existence. + </p> + <p> + I parted from her at a point on the monotonous plain where one rubbly road + branched off from another. Then I jogged on in the full morning sun over + that scorching plain of loose red sand all the way to Salisbury. Not a + green leaf or a fresh flower anywhere. The eye ached at the hot glare of + the reflected sunlight from the sandy level. + </p> + <p> + My business detained me several hours in the half-built town, with its + flaunting stores and its rough new offices; it was not till towards + afternoon that I could get away again on my sorrel, across the blazing + plain once more to Klaas's. + </p> + <p> + I moved on over the plateau at an easy trot, full of thoughts of Hilda. + What could be the step she expected Sebastian to take next? She did not + know, herself, she had told me; there, her faculty failed her. But SOME + step he WOULD take; and till he took it she must rest and be watchful. + </p> + <p> + I passed the great tree that stands up like an obelisk in the midst of the + plain beyond the deserted Matabele village. I passed the low clumps of dry + karroo-bushes by the rocky kopje. I passed the fork of the rubbly roads + where I had parted from Hilda. At last, I reached the long, rolling ridge + which looks down upon Klaas's, and could see in the slant sunlight the mud + farmhouse and the corrugated iron roof where the oxen were stabled. + </p> + <p> + The place looked more deserted, more dead-alive than ever. Not a black boy + moved in it. Even the cattle and Kaffir sheep were nowhere to be seen.... + But then it was always quiet; and perhaps I noticed the obtrusive air of + solitude and sleepiness even more than usual, because I had just returned + from Salisbury. All things are comparative. After the lost loneliness of + Klaas's farm, even brand-new Salisbury seemed busy and bustling. + </p> + <p> + I hurried on, ill at ease. But Tant Mettie would, doubtless, have a cup of + tea ready for me as soon as I arrived, and Hilda would be waiting at the + gate to welcome me. + </p> + <p> + I reached the stone enclosure, and passed up through the flower-garden. To + my great surprise, Hilda was not there. As a rule, she came to meet me, + with her sunny smile. But perhaps she was tired, or the sun on the road + might have given her a headache. I dismounted from my mare, and called one + of the Kaffir boys to take her to the stable. Nobody answered.... I called + again. Still silence.... I tied her up to the post, and strode over to the + door, astonished at the solitude. I began to feel there was something + weird and uncanny about this home-coming. Never before had I known Klaas's + so entirely deserted. + </p> + <p> + I lifted the latch and opened the door. It gave access at once to the + single plain living-room. There, all was huddled. For a moment my eyes + hardly took in the truth. There are sights so sickening that the brain at + the first shock wholly fails to realise them. + </p> + <p> + On the stone slab floor of the low living-room Tant Mettie lay dead. Her + body was pierced through by innumerable thrusts, which I somehow + instinctively recognised as assegai wounds. By her side lay Sannie, the + little prattling girl of three, my constant playmate, whom I had + instructed in cat's-cradle, and taught the tales of Cinderella and Red + Riding Hood. My hand grasped the lollipops in my pocket convulsively. She + would never need them. Nobody else was about. What had become of Oom Jan + Willem—and the baby? + </p> + <p> + I wandered out into the yard, sick with the sight I had already seen. + There Oom Jan Willem himself lay stretched at full length; a bullet had + pierced his left temple; his body was also riddled through with assegai + thrusts. + </p> + <p> + I saw at once what this meant. A rising of the Matabele! + </p> + <p> + I had come back from Salisbury, unknowing it, into the midst of a revolt + of bloodthirsty savages. + </p> + <p> + Yet, even if I had known, I must still have hurried home with all speed to + Klaas's—to protect Hilda. + </p> + <p> + Hilda? Where was Hilda? A breathless sinking crept over me. + </p> + <p> + I staggered out into the open. It was impossible to say what horror might + not have happened. The Matabele might even now be lurking about the kraal—for + the bodies were hardly cold. But Hilda? Hilda? Whatever came, I must find + Hilda. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, I had my loaded revolver in my belt. Though we had not in the + least anticipated this sudden revolt—it broke like a thunder-clap + from a clear sky—the unsettled state of the country made even women + go armed about their daily avocations. + </p> + <p> + I strode on, half maddened. Beside the great block of granite which + sheltered the farm there rose one of those rocky little hillocks of loose + boulders which are locally known in South Africa by the Dutch name of + kopjes. I looked out upon it drearily. Its round brown ironstones lay + piled irregularly together, almost as if placed there in some earlier age + by the mighty hands of prehistoric giants. My gaze on it was blank. I was + thinking, not of it, but of Hilda, Hilda. + </p> + <p> + I called the name aloud: “Hilda! Hilda! Hilda!” + </p> + <p> + As I called, to my immense surprise, one of the smooth round boulders on + the hillside seemed slowly to uncurl, and to peer about it cautiously. + Then it raised itself in the slant sunlight, put a hand to its eyes, and + gazed out upon me with a human face for a moment. After that it descended, + step by step, among the other stones, with a white object in its arms. As + the boulder uncurled and came to life, I was aware, by degrees... yes, + yes, it was Hilda, with Tant Mettie's baby! + </p> + <p> + In the fierce joy of that discovery I rushed forward to her, trembling, + and clasped her in my arms. I could find no words but “Hilda! Hilda!” + </p> + <p> + “Are they gone?” she asked, staring about her with a terrified air, though + still strangely preserving her wonted composure of manner. + </p> + <p> + “Who gone? The Matabele?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see them, Hilda?” + </p> + <p> + “For a moment—with black shields and assegais, all shouting madly. + You have been to the house, Hubert? You know what has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I know—a rising. They have massacred the Klaases.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “I came back on my bicycle, and, when I opened the door, found + Tant Mettie and little Sannie dead. Poor, sweet little Sannie! Oom Jan was + lying shot in the yard outside. I saw the cradle overturned, and looked + under it for the baby. They did not kill her—perhaps did not notice + her. I caught her up in my arms, and rushed out to my machine, thinking to + make for Salisbury, and give the alarm to the men there. One must try to + save others—and YOU were coming, Hubert! Then I heard horses' hoofs—the + Matabele returning. They dashed back, mounted,—stolen horses from + other farms,—they have taken poor Oom Jan's,—and they have + gone on, shouting, to murder elsewhere! I flung down my machine among the + bushes as they came,—I hope they have not seen it,—and I + crouched here between the boulders, with the baby in my arms, trusting for + protection to the colour of my dress, which is just like the ironstone.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a perfect deception,” I answered, admiring her instinctive + cleverness even then. “I never so much as noticed you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor the Matabele either, for all their sharp eyes. They passed by + without stopping. I clasped the baby hard, and tried to keep it from + crying—if it had cried, all would have been lost; but they passed + just below, and swept on toward Rozenboom's. I lay still for a while, not + daring to look out. Then I raised myself warily, and tried to listen. Just + at that moment, I heard a horse's hoofs ring out once more. I couldn't + tell, of course, whether it was YOU returning, or one of the Matabele, + left behind by the others. So I crouched again.... Thank God, you are + safe, Hubert!” + </p> + <p> + All this took a moment to say, or was less said than hinted. “Now, what + must we do?” I cried. “Bolt back again to Salisbury?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the only thing possible—if my machine is unhurt. They may + have taken it... or ridden over and broken it.” + </p> + <p> + We went down to the spot, and picked it up where it lay, half-concealed + among the brittle, dry scrub of milk-bushes. I examined the bearings + carefully; though there were hoof-marks close by, it had received no hurt. + I blew up the tire, which was somewhat flabby, and went on to untie my + sturdy pony. The moment I looked at her I saw the poor little brute was + wearied out with her two long rides in the sweltering sun. Her flanks + quivered. “It is no use,” I cried, patting her, as she turned to me with + appealing eyes that asked for water. “She CAN'T go back as far as + Salisbury; at least, till she has had a feed of corn and a drink. Even + then, it will be rough on her.” + </p> + <p> + “Give her bread,” Hilda suggested. “That will hearten her more than corn. + There is plenty in the house; Tant Mettie baked this morning.” + </p> + <p> + I crept in reluctantly to fetch it. I also brought out from the dresser a + few raw eggs, to break into a tumbler and swallow whole; for Hilda and I + needed food almost as sorely as the poor beast herself. There was + something gruesome in thus rummaging about for bread and meat in the dead + woman's cupboard, while she herself lay there on the floor; but one never + realises how one will act in these great emergencies until they come upon + one. Hilda, still calm with unearthly calmness, took a couple of loaves + from my hand, and began feeding the pony with them. “Go and draw water for + her,” she said, simply, “while I give her the bread; that will save time. + Every minute is precious.” + </p> + <p> + I did as I was bid, not knowing each moment but that the insurgents would + return. When I came back from the spring with the bucket, the mare had + demolished the whole two loaves, and was going on upon some grass which + Hilda had plucked for her. + </p> + <p> + “She hasn't had enough, poor dear,” Hilda said, patting her neck. “A + couple of loaves are penny buns to her appetite. Let her drink the water, + while I go in and fetch out the rest of the baking.” + </p> + <p> + I hesitated. “You CAN'T go in there again, Hilda!” I cried. “Wait, and let + me do it.” + </p> + <p> + Her white face was resolute. “Yes, I CAN,” she answered. “It is a work of + necessity; and in works of necessity a woman, I think, should flinch at + nothing. Have I not seen already every varied aspect of death at + Nathaniel's?” And in she went, undaunted, to that chamber of horrors, + still clasping the baby. + </p> + <p> + The pony made short work of the remaining loaves, which she devoured with + great zest. As Hilda had predicted, they seemed to hearten her. The food + and drink, with a bucket of water dashed on her hoofs, gave her new vigour + like wine. We gulped down our eggs in silence. Then I held Hilda's + bicycle. She vaulted lightly on to the seat, white and tired as she was, + with the baby in her left arm, and her right hand on the handle-bar. + </p> + <p> + “I must take the baby,” I said. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no. I will not trust her to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda, I insist.” + </p> + <p> + “And I insist, too. It is my place to take her.” + </p> + <p> + “But can you ride so?” I asked, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + She began to pedal. “Oh, dear, yes. It is quite, quite easy. I shall get + there all right—if the Matabele don't burst upon us.” + </p> + <p> + Tired as I was with my long day's work, I jumped into my saddle. I saw I + should only lose time if I disputed about the baby. My little horse seemed + to understand that something grave had occurred; for, weary as she must + have been, she set out with a will once more over that great red level. + Hilda pedalled bravely by my side. The road was bumpy, but she was well + accustomed to it. I could have ridden faster than she went, for the baby + weighted her. Still, we rode for dear life. It was a grim experience. + </p> + <p> + All round, by this time, the horizon was dim with clouds of black smoke + which went up from burning farms and plundered homesteads. The smoke did + not rise high; it hung sullenly over the hot plain in long smouldering + masses, like the smoke of steamers on foggy days in England. The sun was + nearing the horizon; his slant red rays lighted up the red plain, the red + sand, the brown-red grasses, with a murky, spectral glow of crimson. After + those red pools of blood, this universal burst of redness appalled one. It + seemed as though all nature had conspired in one unholy league with the + Matabele. We rode on without a word. The red sky grew redder. + </p> + <p> + “They may have sacked Salisbury!” I exclaimed at last, looking out towards + the brand-new town. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it,” Hilda answered. Her very doubt reassured me. + </p> + <p> + We began to mount a long slope. Hilda pedalled with difficulty. Not a + sound was heard save the light fall of my pony's feet on the soft new + road, and the shrill cry of the cicalas. Then, suddenly, we started. What + was that noise in our rear? Once, twice, it rang out. The loud ping of a + rifle! + </p> + <p> + Looking behind us, we saw eight or ten mounted Matabele! Stalwart warriors + they were—half naked, and riding stolen horses. They were coming our + way! They had seen us! They were pursuing us! + </p> + <p> + “Put on all speed!” I cried, in my agony. “Hilda, can you manage it?” She + pedalled with a will. But, as we mounted the slope, I saw they were + gaining upon us. A few hundred yards were all our start. They had the + descent of the opposite hill as yet in their favour. + </p> + <p> + One man, astride on a better horse than the rest, galloped on in front and + came within range of us. He had a rifle in his hand, he pointed it twice, + and covered us. But he did not shoot. Hilda gave a cry of relief. “Don't + you see?” she exclaimed. “It is Oom Jan Willem's rifle! That was their + last cartridge. They have no more ammunition.” + </p> + <p> + I saw she was probably right; for Klaas was out of cartridges, and was + waiting for my new stock to arrive from England. If that were correct, + they must get near enough to attack us with assegais. They are more + dangerous so. I remembered what an old Boer had said to me at Buluwayo: + “The Zulu with his assegai is an enemy to be feared; with a gun, he is a + bungler.” + </p> + <p> + We pounded on up the hill. It was deadly work, with those brutes at our + heels. The child on Hilda's arm was visibly wearying her. It kept on + whining. “Hilda,” I cried, “that baby will lose your life! You CANNOT go + on carrying it.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to me with a flash of her eyes. “What! You are a man,” she + broke out, “and you ask a woman to save her life by abandoning a baby! + Hubert, you shame me!” + </p> + <p> + I felt she was right. If she had been capable of giving it up, she would + not have been Hilda. There was but one other way left. + </p> + <p> + “Then YOU must take the pony,” I called out, “and let me have the + bicycle!” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't ride it,” she called back. “It is a woman's machine, + remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I could,” I replied, without slowing. “It is not much too short; and + I can bend my knees a bit. Quick, quick! No words! Do as I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a second. The child's weight distressed her. “We should lose + time in changing,” she answered, at last, doubtful but still pedalling, + though my hand was on the rein, ready to pull up the pony. + </p> + <p> + “Not if we manage it right. Obey orders! The moment I say 'Halt,' I shall + slacken my mare's pace. When you see me leave the saddle, jump off + instantly, you, and mount her! I will catch the machine before it falls. + Are you ready? Halt, then!” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed the word without one second's delay. I slipped off, held the + bridle, caught the bicycle, and led it instantaneously. Then I ran beside + the pony—bridle in one hand, machine in the other—till Hilda + had sprung with a light bound into the stirrup. At that, a little leap, + and I mounted the bicycle. It was all done nimbly, in less time than the + telling takes, for we are both of us naturally quick in our movements. + Hilda rode like a man, astride—her short, bicycling skirt, + unobtrusively divided in front and at the back, made this easily possible. + Looking behind me with a hasty glance, I could see that the savages, taken + aback, had reined in to deliberate at our unwonted evolution. I feel sure + that the novelty of the iron horse, with a woman riding it, played not a + little on their superstitious fears; they suspected, no doubt, this was + some ingenious new engine of war devised against them by the unaccountable + white man; it might go off unexpectedly in their faces at any moment. Most + of them, I observed, as they halted, carried on their backs black ox-hide + shields, interlaced with white thongs; they were armed with two or three + assegais apiece and a knobkerry. + </p> + <p> + Instead of losing time by the change, as it turned out, we had actually + gained it. Hilda was able to put on my sorrel to her full pace, which I + had not dared to do, for fear of outrunning my companion; the wise little + beast, for her part, seemed to rise to the occasion, and to understand + that we were pursued; for she stepped out bravely. On the other hand, in + spite of the low seat and the short crank of a woman's machine, I could + pedal up the slope with more force than Hilda, for I am a practised + hill-climber; so that in both ways we gained, besides having momentarily + disconcerted and checked the enemy. Their ponies were tired, and they rode + them full tilt with savage recklessness, making them canter up-hill, and + so needlessly fatiguing them. The Matabele, indeed, are unused to horses, + and manage them but ill. It is as foot soldiers, creeping stealthily + through bush or long grass, that they are really formidable. Only one of + their mounts was tolerably fresh, the one which had once already almost + overtaken us. As we neared the top of the slope, Hilda, glancing behind + her, exclaimed, with a sudden thrill, “He is spurting again, Hubert!” + </p> + <p> + I drew my revolver and held it in my right hand, using my left for + steering. I did not look back; time was far too precious. I set my teeth + hard. “Tell me when he draws near enough for a shot,” I said, quietly. + </p> + <p> + Hilda only nodded. Being mounted on the mare, she could see behind her + more steadily now than I could from the machine; and her eye was + trustworthy. As for the baby, rocked by the heave and fall of the pony's + withers, it had fallen asleep placidly in the very midst of this terror! + </p> + <p> + After a second, I asked once more, with bated breath, “Is he gaining?” + </p> + <p> + She looked back. “Yes; gaining.” + </p> + <p> + A pause. “And now?” + </p> + <p> + “Still gaining. He is poising an assegai.” + </p> + <p> + Ten seconds more passed in breathless suspense. The thud of their horses' + hoofs alone told me their nearness. My finger was on the trigger. I + awaited the word. “Fire!” she said at last, in a calm, unflinching voice. + “He is well within distance.” + </p> + <p> + I turned half round and levelled as true as I could at the advancing black + man. He rode, nearly naked, showing all his teeth and brandishing his + assegai; the long white feathers stuck upright in his hair gave him a wild + and terrifying barbaric aspect. It was difficult to preserve one's + balance, keep the way on, and shoot, all at the same time; but, spurred by + necessity, I somehow did it. I fired three shots in quick succession. My + first bullet missed; my second knocked the man over; my third grazed the + horse. With a ringing shriek, the Matabele fell in the road, a black + writhing mass; his horse, terrified, dashed back with maddened snorts into + the midst of the others. Its plunging disconcerted the whole party for a + minute. + </p> + <p> + We did not wait to see the rest. Taking advantage of this momentary + diversion in our favour, we rode on at full speed to the top of the slope—I + never knew before how hard I could pedal—and began to descend at a + dash into the opposite hollow. + </p> + <p> + The sun had set by this time. There is no twilight in those latitudes. It + grew dark at once. We could see now, in the plain all round, where black + clouds of smoke had rolled before, one lurid red glare of burning houses, + mixed with a sullen haze of tawny light from the columns of prairie fire + kindled by the insurgents. + </p> + <p> + We made our way still onward across the open plain without one word + towards Salisbury. The mare was giving out. She strode with a will; but + her flanks were white with froth; her breath came short; foam flew from + her nostrils. + </p> + <p> + As we mounted the next ridge, still distancing our pursuers, I saw + suddenly, on its crest, defined against the livid red sky like a + silhouette, two more mounted black men! + </p> + <p> + “It's all up, Hilda!” I cried, losing heart at last. “They are on both + sides of us now! The mare is spent; we are surrounded!” + </p> + <p> + She drew rein and gazed at them. For a moment suspense spoke in all her + attitude. Then she burst into a sudden deep sigh of relief. “No, no,” she + cried; “these are friendlies!” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” I gasped. But I believed her. + </p> + <p> + “They are looking out this way, with hands shading their eyes against the + red glare. They are looking away from Salisbury, in the direction of the + attack. They are expecting the enemy. They MUST be friendlies! See, see! + they have caught sight of us!” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, one of the men lifted his rifle and half pointed it. “Don't + shoot! don't shoot!” I shrieked aloud. “We are English! English!” + </p> + <p> + The men let their rifles drop, and rode down towards us. “Who are you?” I + cried. + </p> + <p> + They saluted us, military fashion. “Matabele police, sah,” the leader + answered, recognising me. “You are flying from Klaas's?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I answered. “They have murdered Klaas, with his wife and child. + Some of them are now following us.” + </p> + <p> + The spokesman was a well-educated Cape Town negro. “All right sah,” he + answered. “I have forty men here right behind de kopje. Let dem come! We + can give a good account of dem. Ride on straight wit de lady to + Salisbury!” + </p> + <p> + “The Salisbury people know of this rising, then?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah. Dem know since five o'clock. Kaffir boys from Klaas's brought + in de news; and a white man escaped from Rozenboom's confirm it. We have + pickets all round. You is safe now; you can ride on into Salisbury witout + fear of de Matabele.” + </p> + <p> + I rode on, relieved. Mechanically, my feet worked to and fro on the + pedals. It was a gentle down-gradient now towards the town. I had no + further need for special exertion. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, Hilda's voice came wafted to me, as through a mist. “What are + you doing, Hubert? You'll be off in a minute!” + </p> + <p> + I started and recovered my balance with difficulty. Then I was aware at + once that one second before I had all but dropped asleep, dog tired, on + the bicycle. Worn out with my long day and with the nervous strain, I + began to doze off, with my feet still moving round and round + automatically, the moment the anxiety of the chase was relieved, and an + easy down-grade gave me a little respite. + </p> + <p> + I kept myself awake even then with difficulty. Riding on through the lurid + gloom, we reached Salisbury at last, and found the town already crowded + with refugees from the plateau. However, we succeeded in securing two + rooms at a house in the long street, and were soon sitting down to a + much-needed supper. + </p> + <p> + As we rested, an hour or two later, in the ill-furnished back room, + discussing this sudden turn of affairs with our host and some neighbours—for, + of course, all Salisbury was eager for news from the scene of the + massacres—I happened to raise my head, and saw, to my great + surprise... a haggard white face peering in at us through the window. + </p> + <p> + It peered round a corner, stealthily. It was an ascetic face, very sharp + and clear-cut. It had a stately profile. The long and wiry grizzled + moustache, the deep-set, hawk-like eyes, the acute, intense, intellectual + features, all were very familiar. So was the outer setting of long, white + hair, straight and silvery as it fell, and just curled in one wave-like + inward sweep where it turned and rested on the stooping shoulders. But the + expression on the face was even stranger than the sudden apparition. It + was an expression of keen and poignant disappointment—as of a man + whom fate has baulked of some well-planned end, his due by right, which + mere chance has evaded. + </p> + <p> + “They say there's a white man at the bottom of all this trouble,” our host + had been remarking, one second earlier. “The niggers know too much; and + where did they get their rifles? People at Rozenboom's believe some + black-livered traitor has been stirring up the Matabele for weeks and + weeks. An enemy of Rhodes's, of course, jealous of our advance; a French + agent, perhaps; but more likely one of these confounded Transvaal + Dutchmen. Depend upon it, it's Kruger's doing.” + </p> + <p> + As the words fell from his lips, I saw the face. I gave a quick little + start, then recovered my composure. + </p> + <p> + But Hilda noted it. She looked up at me hastily. She was sitting with her + back to the window, and therefore, of course, could not see the face + itself, which indeed was withdrawn with a hurried movement, yet with a + certain strange dignity, almost before I could feel sure of having seen + it. Still, she caught my startled expression, and the gleam of surprise + and recognition in my eye. She laid one hand upon my arm. “You have seen + him?” she asked quietly, almost below her breath. + </p> + <p> + “Seen whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Sebastian.” + </p> + <p> + It was useless denying it to HER. “Yes, I have seen him,” I answered, in a + confidential aside. + </p> + <p> + “Just now—this moment—at the back of the house—looking + in at the window upon us?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right—as always.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a deep breath. “He has played his game,” she said low to me, in + an awed undertone. “I felt sure it was he. I expected him to play; though + what piece, I knew not; and when I saw those poor dead souls, I was + certain he had done it—indirectly done it. The Matabele are his + pawns. He wanted to aim a blow at ME; and THIS was the way he chose to aim + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he is capable of that?” I cried. For, in spite of all, I had + still a sort of lingering respect for Sebastian. “It seems so reckless—like + the worst of anarchists—when he strikes at one head, to involve so + many irrelevant lives in one common destruction.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda's face was like a drowned man's. + </p> + <p> + “To Sebastian,” she answered, shuddering, “the End is all; the Means are + unessential. Who wills the End, wills the Means; that is the sum and + substance of his philosophy of life. From first to last, he has always + acted up to it. Did I not tell you once he was a snow-clad volcano?” + </p> + <p> + “Still, I am loth to believe—” I cried. + </p> + <p> + She interrupted me calmly. “I knew it,” she said. “I expected it. Beneath + that cold exterior, the fires of his life burn fiercely still. I told you + we must wait for Sebastian's next move; though I confess, even from HIM, I + hardly dreamt of this one. But, from the moment when I opened the door on + poor Tant Mettie's body, lying there in its red horror, I felt it must be + he. And when you started just now, I said to myself in a flash of + intuition—'Sebastian has come! He has come to see how his devil's + work has prospered.' He sees it has gone wrong. So now he will try to + devise some other.” + </p> + <p> + I thought of the malign expression on that cruel white face as it stared + in at the window from the outer gloom, and I felt convinced she was right. + She had read her man once more. For it was the desperate, contorted face + of one appalled to discover that a great crime attempted and successfully + carried out has failed, by mere accident, of its central intention. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE EUROPEAN WITH THE KAFFIR HEART + </h3> + <p> + Unfashionable as it is to say so, I am a man of peace. I belong to a + profession whose province is to heal, not to destroy. Still there ARE + times which turn even the most peaceful of us perforce into fighters—times + when those we love, those we are bound to protect, stand in danger of + their lives; and at moments like that, no man can doubt what is his plain + duty. The Matabele revolt was one such moment. In a conflict of race we + MUST back our own colour. I do not know whether the natives were justified + in rising or not; most likely, yes; for we had stolen their country; but + when once they rose, when the security of white women depended upon + repelling them, I felt I had no alternative. For Hilda's sake, for the + sake of every woman and child in Salisbury, and in all Rhodesia, I was + bound to bear my part in restoring order. + </p> + <p> + For the immediate future, it is true, we were safe enough in the little + town; but we did not know how far the revolt might have spread; we could + not tell what had happened at Charter, at Buluwayo, at the outlying + stations. The Matabele, perhaps, had risen in force over the whole vast + area which was once Lo-Bengula's country; if so, their first object would + certainly be to cut us off from communication with the main body of + English settlers at Buluwayo. + </p> + <p> + “I trust to you, Hilda,” I said, on the day after the massacre at Klaas's, + “to divine for us where these savages are next likely to attack us.” + </p> + <p> + She cooed at the motherless baby, raising one bent finger, and then turned + to me with a white smile. “Then you ask too much of me,” she answered. + “Just think what a correct answer would imply! First, a knowledge of these + savages' character; next, a knowledge of their mode of fighting. Can't you + see that only a person who possessed my trick of intuition, and who had + also spent years in warfare among the Matabele, would be really able to + answer your question?” + </p> + <p> + “And yet such questions have been answered before now by people far less + intuitive than you,” I went on. “Why, I've read somewhere how, when the + war between Napoleon the First and the Prussians broke out, in 1806, + Jomini predicted that the decisive battle of the campaign would be fought + near Jena; and near Jena it was fought. Are not YOU better than many + Jominis?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda tickled the baby's cheek. “Smile, then, baby, smile!” she said, + pouncing one soft finger on a gathering dimple. “And who WAS your friend + Jomini?” + </p> + <p> + “The greatest military critic and tactician of his age,” I answered. “One + of Napoleon's generals. I fancy he wrote a book, don't you know—a + book on war—Des Grandes Operations Militaires, or something of that + sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there you are, then! That's just it! Your Jomini, or Hominy, or + whatever you call him, not only understood Napoleon's temperament, but + understood war and understood tactics. It was all a question of the lie of + the land, and strategy, and so forth. If <i>I</i> had been asked, I could + never have answered a quarter as well as Jomini Piccolomini—could I, + baby? Jomini would have been worth a good many me's. There, there, a dear, + motherless darling! Why, she crows just as if she hadn't lost all her + family!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Hilda, we must be serious. I count upon you to help us in this + matter. We are still in danger. Even now these Matabele may attack and + destroy us.” + </p> + <p> + She laid the child on her lap, and looked grave. “I know it, Hubert; but I + must leave it now to you men. I am no tactician. Don't take ME for one of + Napoleon's generals.” + </p> + <p> + “Still,” I said, “we have not only the Matabele to reckon with, recollect. + There is Sebastian as well. And, whether you know your Matabele or not, + you at least know your Sebastian.” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered. “I know him; yes, I know him.... But this case is so + difficult. We have Sebastian—complicated by a rabble of savages, + whose habits and manners I do not understand. It is THAT that makes the + difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + “But Sebastian himself?” I urged. “Take him first, in isolation.” + </p> + <p> + She paused for a full minute, with her chin on her hand and her elbow on + the table. Her brow gathered. “Sebastian?” she repeated. “Sebastian?—ah, + there I might guess something. Well, of course, having once begun this + attempt, and being definitely committed, as it were, to a policy of + killing us, he will go through to the bitter end, no matter how many other + lives it may cost. That is Sebastian's method.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't think, having once found out that I saw and recognised him, he + would consider the game lost, and slink away to the coast again?” + </p> + <p> + “Sebastian? Oh, no; that is the absolute antipodes of his type and + temperament.” + </p> + <p> + “He will never give up because of a temporary check, you think?” + </p> + <p> + “No, never. The man has a will of sheer steel—it may break, but it + will not bend. Besides, consider: he is too deeply involved. You have seen + him; you know; and he knows you know. You may bring this thing home to + him. Then what is his plain policy? Why, to egg on the natives whose + confidence he has somehow gained into making a further attack, and cutting + off all Salisbury. If he had succeeded in getting you and me massacred at + Klaas's, as he hoped, he would no doubt have slunk off to the coast at + once, leaving his black dupes to be shot down at leisure by Rhodes's + soldiers.” + </p> + <p> + “I see; but having failed in that?” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is bound to go through with it, and kill us if he can, even if he + has to kill all Salisbury with us. That, I feel sure, is Sebastian's plan. + Whether he can get the Matabele to back him up in it or not is a different + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “But taking Sebastian himself; alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sebastian himself alone would naturally say: 'Never mind Buluwayo! + Concentrate round Salisbury, and kill off all there first; when that is + done, then you can move on at your ease and cut them to pieces in Charter + and Buluwayo.' You see, he would have no interest in the movement, + himself, once he had fairly got rid of us here. The Matabele are only the + pieces in his game. It is ME he wants, not Salisbury. He would clear out + of Rhodesia as soon as he had carried his point. But he would have to give + some reasonable ground to the Matabele for his first advice; and it seems + a reasonable ground to say, 'Don't leave Salisbury in your rear, so as to + put yourselves between two fires. Capture the outpost first; that down, + march on undistracted to the principal stronghold.'” + </p> + <p> + “Who is no tactician?” I murmured, half aloud. + </p> + <p> + She laughed. “That's not tactics, Hubert; that's plain common sense—and + knowledge of Sebastian. Still, it comes to nothing. The question is not, + 'What would Sebastian wish?' it is, 'Could Sebastian persuade these angry + black men to accept his guidance?'” + </p> + <p> + “Sebastian!” I cried; “Sebastian could persuade the very devil! I know the + man's fiery enthusiasm, his contagious eloquence. He thrilled me through, + myself, with his electric personality, so that it took me six years—and + your aid—to find him out at last. His very abstractness tells. Why, + even in this war, you may be sure, he will be making notes all the time on + the healing of wounds in tropical climates, contrasting the African with + the European constitution.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; of course. Whatever he does, he will never forget the interests + of science. He is true to his lady-love, to whomever else he plays false. + That is his saving virtue.” + </p> + <p> + “And he will talk down the Matabele,” I went on, “even if he doesn't know + their language. But I suspect he does; for, you must remember, he was + three years in South Africa as a young man, on a scientific expedition, + collecting specimens. He can ride like a trooper; and he knows the + country. His masterful ways, his austere face, will cow the natives. Then, + again, he has the air of a prophet; and prophets always stir the negro. I + can imagine with what air he will bid them drive out the intrusive white + men who have usurped their land, and draw them flattering pictures of a + new Matabele empire about to arise under a new chief, too strong for these + gold-grubbing, diamond-hunting mobs from over sea to meddle with.” + </p> + <p> + She reflected once more. “Do you mean to say anything of our suspicions in + Salisbury, Hubert?” she asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “It is useless,” I answered. “The Salisbury folk believe there is a white + man at the bottom of this trouble already. They will try to catch him; + that's all that is necessary. If we said it was Sebastian, people would + only laugh at us. They must understand Sebastian, as you and I understand + him, before they would think such a move credible. As a rule in life, if + you know anything which other people do not know, better keep it to + yourself; you will only get laughed at as a fool for telling it.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, too. That is why I never say what I suspect or infer from my + knowledge of types—except to a few who can understand and + appreciate. Hubert, if they all arm for the defence of the town, you will + stop here, I suppose, to tend the wounded?” + </p> + <p> + Her lips trembled as she spoke, and she gazed at me with a strange + wistfulness. “No, dearest,” I answered at once, taking her face in my + hands. “I shall fight with the rest. Salisbury has more need to-day of + fighters than of healers.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would,” she answered, slowly. “And I think you do right.” + Her face was set white; she played nervously with the baby. “I would not + urge you; but I am glad you say so. I want you to stop; yet I could not + love you so much if I did not see you ready to play the man at such a + crisis.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall give in my name with the rest,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + “Hubert, it is hard to spare you—hard to send you to such danger. + But for one other thing, I am glad you are going.... They must take + Sebastian alive; they must NOT kill him.” + </p> + <p> + “They will shoot him red-handed if they catch him,” I answered + confidently. “A white man who sides with the blacks in an insurrection!” + </p> + <p> + “Then YOU must see that they do not do it. They must bring him in alive, + and try him legally. For me—and therefore for you—that is of + the first importance.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so, Hilda?” + </p> + <p> + “Hubert, you want to marry me.” I nodded vehemently. “Well, you know I can + only marry you on one condition—that I have succeeded first in + clearing my father's memory. Now, the only man living who can clear it is + Sebastian. If Sebastian were to be shot, it could NEVER be cleared—and + then, law of Medes and Persians, I could never marry you.” + </p> + <p> + “But how can you expect Sebastian, of all men, to clear it, Hilda?” I + cried. “He is ready to kill us both, merely to prevent your attempting a + revision; is it likely you can force him to confess his crime, still less + induce him to admit it voluntarily?” + </p> + <p> + She placed her hands over her eyes and pressed them hard with a strange, + prophetic air she often had about her when she gazed into the future. “I + know my man,” she answered, slowly, without uncovering her eyes. “I know + how I can do it—if the chance ever comes to me. But the chance must + come first. It is hard to find. I lost it once at Nathaniel's. I must not + lose it again. If Sebastian is killed skulking here in Rhodesia, my life's + purpose will have failed; I shall not have vindicated my father's good + name; and then, we can never marry.” + </p> + <p> + “So I understand, Hilda, my orders are these: I am to go out and fight for + the women and children, if possible; that Sebastian shall be made prisoner + alive, and on no account to let him be killed in the open!” + </p> + <p> + “I give you no orders, Hubert. I tell you how it seems best to me. But if + Sebastian is shot dead—then you understand it must be all over + between us. I NEVER can marry you until, or unless, I have cleared my + father.” + </p> + <p> + “Sebastian shall not be shot dead,” I cried, with my youthful impetuosity. + “He shall be brought in alive, though all Salisbury as one man try its + best to lynch him.” + </p> + <p> + I went out to report myself as a volunteer for service. Within the next + few hours the whole town had been put in a state of siege, and all + available men armed to oppose the insurgent Matabele. Hasty preparations + were made for defence. The ox-waggons of settlers were drawn up outside in + little circles here and there, so as to form laagers, which acted + practically as temporary forts for the protection of the outskirts. In one + of these I was posted. With our company were two American scouts, named + Colebrook and Doolittle, irregular fighters whose value in South African + campaigns had already been tested in the old Matabele war against + Lo-Bengula. Colebrook, in particular, was an odd-looking creature—a + tall, spare man, bodied like a weasel. He was red-haired, ferret-eyed, and + an excellent scout, but scrappier and more inarticulate in his manner of + speech than any human being I had ever encountered. His conversation was a + series of rapid interjections, jerked out at intervals, and made + comprehensible by a running play of gesture and attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes,” he said, when I tried to draw him out on the Matabele mode of + fighting. “Not on the open. Never! Grass, if you like. Or bushes. The eyes + of them! The eyes!...” He leaned eagerly forward, as if looking for + something. “See here, Doctor; I'm telling you. Spots. Gleaming. Among the + grass. Long grass. And armed, too. A pair of 'em each. One to throw”—he + raised his hand as if lancing something—“the other for close + fighting. Assegais, you know. That's the name of it. Only the eyes. + Creeping, creeping, creeping. No noise. One raised. Waggons drawn up in + laager. Oxen out-spanned in the middle. Trekking all day. Tired out; dog + tired. Crawl, crawl, crawl! Hands and knees. Might be snakes. A wriggle. + Men sitting about the camp fire. Smoking. Gleam of their eyes! Under the + waggons. Nearer, nearer, nearer! Then, the throwing ones in your midst. + Shower of 'em. Right and left. 'Halloa! stand by, boys!' Look up; see 'em + swarming, black like ants, over the waggons. Inside the laager. Snatch up + rifles! All up! Oxen stampeding, men running, blacks sticking 'em like + pigs in the back with their assegais. Bad job, the whole thing. Don't care + for it, myself. Very tough 'uns to fight. If they once break laager.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you should never let them get to close quarters,” I suggested, + catching the general drift of his inarticulate swift pictures. + </p> + <p> + “You're a square man, you are, Doctor! There you touch the spot. Never let + 'em get at close quarters. Sentries?—creep past 'em. Outposts?—crawl + between. Had Forbes and Wilson like that. Cut 'em off. Perdition!... But + Maxims will do it! Maxims! Never let em get near. Sweep the ground all + round. Durned hard, though, to know just WHEN they're coming. A night; two + nights; all clear; only waste ammunition. Third, they swarm like bees; + break laager; all over!” + </p> + <p> + This was not exactly an agreeable picture of what we had to expect—the + more so as our particular laager happened to have no Maxims. However, we + kept a sharp lookout for those gleaming eyes in the long grass of which + Colebrook warned us; their flashing light was the one thing to be seen, at + night above all, when the black bodies could crawl unperceived through the + tall dry herbage. On our first night out we had no adventures. We watched + by turns outside, relieving sentry from time to time, while those of us + who slept within the laager slept on the bare ground with our arms beside + us. Nobody spoke much. The tension was too great. Every moment we expected + an attack of the enemy. + </p> + <p> + Next day news reached us by scouts from all the other laagers. None of + them had been attacked; but in all there was a deep, half-instinctive + belief that the Matabele in force were drawing step by step closer and + closer around us. Lo-Bengula's old impis, or native regiments, had + gathered together once more under their own indunas—men trained and + drilled in all the arts and ruses of savage warfare. On their own ground, + and among their native scrub, those rude strategists are formidable. They + know the country, and how to fight in it. We had nothing to oppose to them + but a handful of the new Matabeleland police, an old regular soldier or + two, and a raw crowd of volunteers, most of whom, like myself, had never + before really handled a rifle. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon, the Major in command decided to send out the two American + scouts to scour the grass and discover, if possible, how near our lines + the Matabele had penetrated. I begged hard to be permitted to accompany + them. I wanted, if I could, to get evidence against Sebastian; or, at + least, to learn whether he was still directing and assisting the enemy. At + first, the scouts laughed at my request; but when I told them privately + that I believed I had a clue against the white traitor who had caused the + revolt, and that I wished to identify him, they changed their tone, and + began to think there might be something in it. + </p> + <p> + “Experience?” Colebrook asked in his brief shorthand of speech, running + his ferret eyes over me. + </p> + <p> + “None,” I answered; “but a noiseless tread and a capacity for crawling + through holes in hedges which may perhaps be useful.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced inquiry at Doolittle, who was a shorter and stouter man, with a + knack of getting over obstacles by sheer forcefulness. + </p> + <p> + “Hands and knees!” he said, abruptly, in the imperative mood, pointing to + a clump of dry grass with thorny bushes ringed about it. + </p> + <p> + I went down on my hands and knees, and threaded my way through the long + grasses and matted boughs as noiselessly as I could. The two old hands + watched me. When I emerged several yards off, much to their surprise, + Colebrook turned to Doolittle. “Might answer,” he said curtly. “Major + says, 'Choose your own men.' Anyhow, if they catch him, nobody's fault but + his. Wants to go. Will do it.” + </p> + <p> + We set out through the long grass together, walking erect at first, till + we had got some distance from the laager, and then, creeping as the + Matabele themselves creep, without displacing the grass-flowers, for a + mere wave on top would have betrayed us at once to the quick eyes of those + observant savages. We crept on for a mile or so. At last, Colebrook turned + to me, one finger on his lips. His ferret eyes gleamed. We were + approaching a wooded hill, all interspersed with boulders. “Kaffirs here!” + he whispered low, as if he knew by instinct. HOW he knew, I cannot tell; + he seemed almost to scent them. + </p> + <p> + We stole on farther, going more furtively than ever now. I could notice by + this time that there were waggons in front, and could hear men speaking in + them. I wanted to proceed, but Colebrook held up one warning hand. “Won't + do,” he said, shortly, in a low tone. “Only myself. Danger ahead! Stop + here and wait for me.” + </p> + <p> + Doolittle and myself waited. Colebrook kept on cautiously, squirming his + long body in sinuous waves like a lizard's through the grass, and was soon + lost to us. No snake could have been lither. We waited, with ears intent. + One minute, two minutes, many minutes passed. We could catch the voices of + the Kaffirs in the bush all round. They were speaking freely, but what + they said I did not know, as I had picked up only a very few words of the + Matabele language. + </p> + <p> + It seemed hours while we waited, still as mice in our ambush, and alert. I + began to think Colebrook must have been lost or killed—so long was + he gone—and that we must return without him. At last—we leaned + forward—a muffled movement in the grass ahead! A slight wave at the + base! Then it divided below, bit by bit, while the tops remained + stationary. A weasel-like body slank noiselessly through. Finger on lips + once more, Colebrook glided beside us. We turned and crawled back, + stifling our very pulses. For many minutes none of us spoke. But we heard + in our rear a loud cry and a shaking of assegais; the Kaffirs behind us + were yelling frightfully. They must have suspected something—seen + some movement in the tufted heads of grass, for they spread abroad, + shouting. We halted, holding our breath. After a time, however; the noise + died down. They were moving another way. We crept on again, stealthily. + </p> + <p> + When, at last, after many minutes, we found ourselves beyond a sheltering + belt of brushwood, we ventured to rise and speak. “Well?” I asked of + Colebrook. “Did you discover anything?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded assent. “Couldn't see him,” he said shortly. “But he's there, + right enough. White man. Heard 'em talk of him.” + </p> + <p> + “What did they say?” I asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Said he had a white skin, but his heart was a Kaffir's. Great induna; + leader of many impis. Prophet, wise weather doctor! Friend of old + Moselekatse's. Destroy the white men from over the big water; restore the + land to the Matabele. Kill all in Salisbury, especially the white women. + Witches—all witches. They give charms to the men; cook lions' hearts + for them; make them brave with love-drinks.” + </p> + <p> + “They said that?” I exclaimed, taken aback. “Kill all the white women!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Kill all. White witches, every one. The young ones worst. Word of + the great induna.” + </p> + <p> + “And you could not see him?” + </p> + <p> + “Crept near waggons, close. Fellow himself inside. Heard his voice; spoke + English, with a little Matabele. Kaffir boy who was servant at the mission + interpreted.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of voice? Like this?” And I imitated Sebastian's cold, + clear-cut tone as well as I was able. + </p> + <p> + “The man! That's him, Doctor. You've got him down to the ground. The very + voice. Heard him giving orders.” + </p> + <p> + That settled the question. I was certain of it now. Sebastian was with the + insurgents. + </p> + <p> + We made our way back to our laager, flung ourselves down, and slept a + little on the ground before taking our turn in the fatigues of the night + watch. Our horses were loosely tied, ready for any sudden alarm. About + midnight, we three were sitting with others about the fire, talking low to + one another. All at once Doolittle sprang up, alert and eager. “Look out, + boys!” he cried, pointing his hands under the waggons. “What's wriggling + in the grass there?” + </p> + <p> + I looked, and saw nothing. Our sentries were posted outside, about a + hundred yards apart, walking up and down till they met, and exchanging + “All's well” aloud at each meeting. + </p> + <p> + “They should have been stationary!” one of our scouts exclaimed, looking + out at them. “It's easier for the Matabele to see them so, when they walk + up and down, moving against the sky. The Major ought to have posted them + where it wouldn't have been so simple for a Kaffir to see them and creep + in between them!” + </p> + <p> + “Too late now, boys!” Colebrook burst out, with a rare effort of + articulateness. “Call back the sentries, Major! The blacks have broken + line! Hold there! They're in upon us!” + </p> + <p> + Even as he spoke, I followed his eager pointing hand with my eyes, and + just descried among the grass two gleaming objects, seen under the hollow + of one of the waggons. Two: then two; then two again; and behind, whole + pairs of them. They looked like twin stars; but they were eyes, black + eyes, reflecting the starlight and the red glare of the camp-fire. They + crept on tortuously in serpentine curves through the long, dry grasses. I + could feel, rather than see, that they were Matabele, crawling prone on + their bellies, and trailing their snake-like way between the dark jungle. + Quick as thought, I raised my rifle and blazed away at the foremost. So + did several others. But the Major shouted, angrily: “Who fired? Don't + shoot, boys, till you hear the word of command! Back, sentries, to laager! + Not a shot till they're safe inside! You'll hit your own people!” + </p> + <p> + Almost before he said it, the sentries darted back. The Matabele, + crouching on hands and knees in the long grass, had passed between them + unseen. A wild moment followed. I can hardly describe it; the whole thing + was so new to me, and took place so quickly. Hordes of black human ants + seemed to surge up all at once over and under the waggons. Assegais + whizzed through the air, or gleamed brandished around one. Our men fell + back to the centre of the laager, and formed themselves hastily under the + Major's orders. Then a pause; a deadly fire. Once, twice, thrice we + volleyed. The Matabele fell by dozens—but they came on by hundreds. + As fast as we fired and mowed down one swarm, fresh swarms seemed to + spring from the earth and stream over the waggons. Others appeared to grow + up almost beneath our feet as they wormed their way on their faces along + the ground between the wheels, squirmed into the circle, and then rose + suddenly, erect and naked, in front of us. Meanwhile, they yelled and + shouted, clashing their spears and shields. The oxen bellowed. The rifles + volleyed. It was a pandemonium of sound in an orgy of gloom. Darkness, + lurid flame, blood, wounds, death, horror! + </p> + <p> + Yet, in the midst of all this hubbub, I could not help admiring the cool + military calm and self-control of our Major. His voice rose clear above + the confused tumult. “Steady, boys, steady! Don't fire at random. Pick + each your likeliest man, and aim at him deliberately. That's right; easy—easy! + Shoot at leisure, and don't waste ammunition!” + </p> + <p> + He stood as if he were on parade, in the midst of this palpitating turmoil + of savages. Some of us, encouraged by his example, mounted the waggons, + and shot from the tops at our approaching assailants. + </p> + <p> + How long the hurly-burly went on, I cannot say. We fired, fired, fired, + and Kaffirs fell like sheep; yet more Kaffirs rose fresh from the long + grass to replace them. They swarmed with greater ease now over the covered + waggons, across the mangled and writhing bodies of their fellows; for the + dead outside made an inclined plane for the living to mount by. But the + enemy were getting less numerous, I thought, and less anxious to fight. + The steady fire told on them. By-and-by, with a little halt, for the first + time they wavered. All our men now mounted the waggons, and began to fire + on them in regular volleys as they came up. The evil effects of the + surprise were gone by this time; we were acting with coolness and obeying + orders. But several of our people dropped close beside me, pierced through + with assegais. + </p> + <p> + All at once, as if a panic had burst over them, the Matabele, with one + mind, stopped dead short in their advance and ceased fighting. Till that + moment, no number of deaths seemed to make any difference to them. Men + fell, disabled; others sprang up from the ground by magic. But now, of a + sudden, their courage flagged—they faltered, gave way, broke, and + shambled in a body. At last, as one man, they turned and fled. Many of + them leapt up with a loud cry from the long grass where they were + skulking, flung away their big shields with the white thongs interlaced, + and ran for dear life, black, crouching figures, through the dense, dry + jungle. They held their assegais still, but did not dare to use them. It + was a flight, pell-mell—and the devil take the hindmost. + </p> + <p> + Not until then had I leisure to THINK, and to realise my position. This + was the first and only time I had ever seen a battle. I am a bit of a + coward, I believe—like most other men—though I have courage + enough to confess it; and I expected to find myself terribly afraid when + it came to fighting. Instead of that, to my immense surprise, once the + Matabele had swarmed over the laager, and were upon us in their thousands, + I had no time to be frightened. The absolute necessity for keeping cool, + for loading and reloading, for aiming and firing, for beating them off at + close quarters—all this so occupied one's mind, and still more one's + hands, that one couldn't find room for any personal terrors. “They are + breaking over there!” “They will overpower us yonder!” “They are faltering + now!” Those thoughts were so uppermost in one's head, and one's arms were + so alert, that only after the enemy gave way, and began to run at full + pelt, could a man find breathing-space to think of his own safety. Then + the thought occurred to me, “I have been through my first fight, and come + out of it alive; after all, I was a deal less afraid than I expected!” + </p> + <p> + That took but a second, however. Next instant, awaking to the altered + circumstances, we were after them at full speed; accompanying them on + their way back to their kraals in the uplands with a running fire as a + farewell attention. + </p> + <p> + As we broke laager in pursuit of them, by the uncertain starlight we saw a + sight which made us boil with indignation. A mounted man turned and fled + before them. He seemed their leader, unseen till then. He was dressed like + a European—tall, thin, unbending, in a greyish-white suit. He rode a + good horse, and sat it well; his air was commanding, even as he turned and + fled in the general rout from that lost battle. + </p> + <p> + I seized Colebrook's arm, almost speechless with anger. “The white man!” I + cried. “The traitor!” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer a word, but with a set face of white rage loosed his + horse from where it was tethered among the waggons. At the same moment, I + loosed mine. So did Doolittle. Quick as thought, but silently, we led them + out all three where the laager was broken. I clutched my mare's mane, and + sprang to the stirrup to pursue our enemy. My sorrel bounded off like a + bird. The fugitive had a good two minutes start of us; but our horses were + fresh, while his had probably been ridden all day. I patted my pony's + neck; she responded with a ringing neigh of joy. We tore after the outlaw, + all three of us abreast. I felt a sort of fierce delight in the reaction + after the fighting. Our ponies galloped wildly over the plain; we burst + out into the night, never heeding the Matabele whom we passed on the open + in panic-stricken retreat. I noticed that many of them in their terror had + even flung away their shields and their assegais. + </p> + <p> + It was a mad chase across the dark veldt—we three, neck to neck, + against that one desperate runaway. We rode all we knew. I dug my heels + into my sorrel's flanks, and she responded bravely. The tables were turned + now on our traitor since the afternoon of the massacre. HE was the + pursued, and WE were the pursuers. We felt we must run him down, and + punish him for his treachery. + </p> + <p> + At a breakneck pace, we stumbled over low bushes; we grazed big boulders; + we rolled down the sides of steep ravines; but we kept him in sight all + the time, dim and black against the starry sky; slowly, slowly—yes, + yes!—we gained upon him. My pony led now. The mysterious white man + rode and rode—head bent, neck forward—but never looked behind + him. Bit by bit we lessened the distance between us. As we drew near him + at last, Doolittle called out to me, in a warning voice: “Take care, + Doctor! Have your revolvers ready! He's driven to bay now! As we approach, + he'll fire at us!” + </p> + <p> + Then it came home to me in a flash. I felt the truth of it. “He DARE not + fire!” I cried. “He dare not turn towards us. He cannot show his face! If + he did, we might recognise him!” + </p> + <p> + On we rode, still gaining. “Now, now,” I cried, “we shall catch him!” + </p> + <p> + Even as I leaned forward to seize his rein, the fugitive, without checking + his horse, without turning his head, drew his revolver from his belt, and, + raising his hand, fired behind him at random. He fired towards us, on the + chance. The bullet whizzed past my ear, not hitting anyone. We scattered, + right and left, still galloping free and strong. We did not return his + fire, as I had told the others of my desire to take him alive. We might + have shot his horse; but the risk of hitting the rider, coupled with the + confidence we felt of eventually hunting him to earth, restrained us. It + was the great mistake we made. + </p> + <p> + He had gained a little by his shots, but we soon caught it up. Once more I + said, “We are on him!” + </p> + <p> + A minute later, we were pulled up short before an impenetrable thicket of + prickly shrubs, through which I saw at once it would have been quite + impossible to urge our staggering horses. + </p> + <p> + The other man, of course, reached it before us, with his mare's last + breath. He must have been making for it, indeed, of set purpose; for the + second he arrived at the edge of the thicket he slipped off his tired + pony, and seemed to dive into the bush as a swimmer dives off a rock into + the water. + </p> + <p> + “We have him now!” I cried, in a voice of triumph. And Colebrook echoed, + “We have him!” + </p> + <p> + We sprang down quickly. “Take him alive, if you can!” I exclaimed, + remembering Hilda's advice. “Let us find out who he is, and have him + properly tried and hanged at Buluwayo! Don't give him a soldier's death! + All he deserves is a murderer's!” + </p> + <p> + “You stop here,” Colebrook said, briefly, flinging his bridle to Doolittle + to hold. “Doctor and I follow him. Thick bush. Knows the ways of it. + Revolvers ready!” + </p> + <p> + I handed my sorrel to Doolittle. He stopped behind, holding the three + foam-bespattered and panting horses, while Colebrook and I dived after our + fugitive into the matted bushes. + </p> + <p> + The thicket, as I have said, was impenetrable above; but it was burrowed + at its base by over-ground runs of some wild animal—not, I think, a + very large one; they were just like the runs which rabbits make among + gorse and heather, only on a bigger scale—bigger, even, than a fox's + or badger's. By crouching and bending our backs, we could crawl through + them with difficulty into the scrubby tangle. It was hard work creeping. + The runs divided soon. Colebrook felt with his hands on the ground: “I can + make out the spoor!” he muttered, after a minute. “He has gone on this + way!” + </p> + <p> + We tracked him a little distance in, crawling at times, and rising now and + again where the runs opened out on to the air for a moment. The spoor was + doubtful and the tunnels tortuous. I felt the ground from time to time, + but could not be sure of the tracks with my fingers; I was not a trained + scout, like Colebrook or Doolittle. We wriggled deeper into the tangle. + Something stirred once or twice. It was not far from me. I was uncertain + whether it was HIM—Sebastian—or a Kaffir earth-hog, the animal + which seemed likeliest to have made the burrows. Was he going to elude us, + even now? Would he turn upon us with a knife? If so, could we hold him? + </p> + <p> + At last, when we had pushed our way some distance in, we heard a wild cry + from outside. It was Doolittle's voice. “Quick! quick! out again! The man + will escape! He has come back on his tracks, and rounded!” + </p> + <p> + I saw our mistake at once. We had left our companion out there alone, + rendered helpless by the care of all three horses. + </p> + <p> + Colebrook said never a word. He was a man of action. He turned with + instinctive haste, and followed our own spoor back again with his hands + and knees to the opening in the thicket by which we had first entered. + </p> + <p> + Before we could reach it, however, two shots rang out clear in the + direction where we had left poor Doolittle and the horses. Then a sharp + cry broke the stillness—the cry of a wounded man. We redoubled our + pace. We knew we were outwitted. + </p> + <p> + When we reached the open, we saw at once by the uncertain light what had + happened. The fugitive was riding away on my own little sorrel,—riding + for dear life; not back the way we came from Salisbury, but sideways + across the veldt towards Chimoio and the Portuguese seaports. The other + two horses, riderless and terrified, were scampering with loose heels over + the dark plain. Doolittle was not to be seen; he lay, a black lump, among + the black bushes about him. + </p> + <p> + We looked around for him, and found him. He was severely, I may even say + dangerously, wounded. The bullet had lodged in his right side. We had to + catch our two horses, and ride them back with our wounded man, leading the + fugitive's mare in tow, all blown and breathless. I stuck to the + fugitive's mare; it was the one clue we had now against him. But + Sebastian, if it WAS Sebastian, had ridden off scot-free. I understood his + game at a glance. He had got the better of us once more. He would make for + the coast by the nearest road, give himself out as a settler escaped from + the massacre, and catch the next ship for England or the Cape, now this + coup had failed him. + </p> + <p> + Doolittle had not seen the traitor's face. The man rose from the bush, he + said, shot him, seized the pony, and rode off in a second with ruthless + haste. He was tall and thin, but erect—that was all the wounded + scout could tell us about his assailant. And THAT was not enough to + identify Sebastian. + </p> + <p> + All danger was over. We rode back to Salisbury. The first words Hilda said + when she saw me were: “Well, he has got away from you!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; how did you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I read it in your step. But I guessed as much before. He is so very keen; + and you started too confident.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE LADY WHO WAS VERY EXCLUSIVE + </h3> + <p> + The Matabele revolt gave Hilda a prejudice against Rhodesia. I will + confess that I shared it. I may be hard to please; but it somehow sets one + against a country when one comes home from a ride to find all the other + occupants of the house one lives in massacred. So Hilda decided to leave + South Africa. By an odd coincidence, I also decided on the same day to + change my residence. Hilda's movements and mine, indeed, coincided + curiously. The moment I learned she was going anywhere, I discovered in a + flash that I happened to be going there too. I commend this strange case + of parallel thought and action to the consideration of the Society for + Psychical Research. + </p> + <p> + So I sold my farm, and had done with Rhodesia. A country with a future is + very well in its way; but I am quite Ibsenish in my preference for a + country with a past. Oddly enough, I had no difficulty in getting rid of + my white elephant of a farm. People seemed to believe in Rhodesia none the + less firmly because of this slight disturbance. They treated massacres as + necessary incidents in the early history of a colony with a future. And I + do not deny that native risings add picturesqueness. But I prefer to take + them in a literary form. + </p> + <p> + “You will go home, of course?” I said to Hilda, when we came to talk it + all over. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “To England? Oh, no. I must pursue my Plan. Sebastian + will have gone home; he expects me to follow.” + </p> + <p> + “And why don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—he expects it. You see, he is a good judge of character; he + will naturally infer, from what he knows of my temperament, that after + this experience I shall want to get back to England and safety. So I + should—if it were not that I know he will expect it. As it is, I + must go elsewhere; I must draw him after me.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask, Hubert?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—I want to know where I am going myself. Wherever you go, I + have reason to believe, I shall find that I happen to be going also.” + </p> + <p> + She rested her little chin on her hand and reflected a minute. “Does it + occur to you,” she asked at last, “that people have tongues? If you go on + following me like this, they will really begin to talk about us.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, upon my word, Hilda,” I cried, “that is the very first time I have + ever known you show a woman's want of logic! I do not propose to follow + you; I propose to happen to be travelling by the same steamer. I ask you + to marry me; you won't; you admit you are fond of me; yet you tell me not + to come with you. It is <i>I</i> who suggest a course which would prevent + people from chattering—by the simple device of a wedding. It is YOU + who refuse. And then you turn upon me like this! Admit that you are + unreasonable.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Hubert, have I ever denied that I was a woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” I went on, ignoring her delicious smile, “I don't intend to + FOLLOW you. I expect, on the contrary, to find myself beside you. When I + know where you are going, I shall accidentally turn up on the same + steamer. Accidents WILL happen. Nobody can prevent coincidences from + occurring. You may marry me, or you may not; but if you don't marry me, + you can't expect to curtail my liberty of action, can you? You had better + know the worst at once; if you won't take me, you must count upon finding + me at your elbow all the world over—till the moment comes when you + choose to accept me.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Hubert, I am ruining your life!” + </p> + <p> + “An excellent reason, then, for taking my advice, and marrying me + instantly! But you wander from the question. Where are you going? That is + the issue now before the house. You persist in evading it.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, and came back to earth. “Oh, if you MUST know, to India, by + the east coast, changing steamers at Aden.” + </p> + <p> + “Extraordinary!” I cried. “Do you know, Hilda, as luck will have it, <i>I</i> + also shall be on my way to Bombay by the very same steamer!” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't know what steamer it is?” + </p> + <p> + “No matter. That only makes the coincidence all the odder. Whatever the + name of the ship may be, when you get on board, I have a presentiment that + you will be surprised to find me there.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at me with a gathering film in her eyes. “Hubert, you are + irrepressible!” + </p> + <p> + “I am, my dear child; so you may as well spare yourself the needless + trouble of trying to repress me.” + </p> + <p> + If you rub a piece of iron on a loadstone, it becomes magnetic. So, I + think, I must have begun to acquire some part of Hilda's own prophetic + strain; for, sure enough, a few weeks later, we both of us found ourselves + on the German East African steamer Kaiser Wilhelm, on our way to Aden—exactly + as I had predicted. Which goes to prove that there is really something + after all in presentiments! + </p> + <p> + “Since you persist in accompanying me,” Hilda said to me, as we sat in our + chairs on deck the first evening out, “I see what I must do. I must invent + some plausible and ostensible reason for our travelling together.” + </p> + <p> + “We are not travelling together,” I answered. “We are travelling by the + same steamer; that is all—exactly like the rest of our + fellow-passengers. I decline to be dragged into this imaginary + partnership.” + </p> + <p> + “Now do be serious, Hubert! I am going to invent an object in life for + us.” + </p> + <p> + “What object?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell yet? I must wait and see what turns up. When we tranship + at Aden, and find out what people are going on to Bombay with us, I shall + probably discover some nice married lady to whom I can attach myself.” + </p> + <p> + “And am I to attach myself to her, too?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, I never asked you to come. You came unbidden. You must + manage for yourself as best you may. But I leave much to the chapter of + accidents. We never know what will turn up, till it turns up in the end. + Everything comes at last, you know, to him that waits.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” I put in, with a meditative air, “I have never observed that + waiters are so much better off than the rest of the community. They seem + to me—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk nonsense. It is YOU who are wandering from the question now. + Please return to it.” + </p> + <p> + I returned at once. “So I am to depend on what turns up?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Leave that to me. When we see our fellow-passengers on the Bombay + steamer, I shall soon discover some ostensible reason why we two should be + travelling through India with one of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you are a witch, Hilda,” I answered. “I found that out long ago; + but if you succeed between here and Bombay in inventing a Mission, I shall + begin to believe you are even more of a witch than I ever thought you.” + </p> + <p> + At Aden we changed into a P. and O. steamer. Our first evening out on our + second cruise was a beautiful one; the bland Indian Ocean wore its + sweetest smile for us. We sat on deck after dinner. A lady with a husband + came up from the cabin while we sat and gazed at the placid sea. I was + smoking a quiet digestive cigar. Hilda was seated in her deck chair next + to me. + </p> + <p> + The lady with the husband looked about her for a vacant space on which to + place the chair a steward was carrying for her. There was plenty of room + on the quarter-deck. I could not imagine why she gazed about her with such + obtrusive caution. She inspected the occupants of the various chairs + around with deliberate scrutiny through a long-handled tortoise-shell + optical abomination. None of them seemed to satisfy her. After a minute's + effort, during which she also muttered a few words very low to her + husband, she selected an empty spot midway between our group and the most + distant group on the other side of us. In other words, she sat as far away + from everybody present as the necessarily restricted area of the + quarter-deck permitted. + </p> + <p> + Hilda glanced at me and smiled. I snatched a quick look at the lady again. + She was dressed with an amount of care and a smartness of detail that + seemed somewhat uncalled for on the Indian Ocean. A cruise on a P. and O. + steamer is not a garden party. Her chair was most luxurious, and had her + name painted on it, back and front, in very large letters, with undue + obtrusiveness. I read it from where I sat, “Lady Meadowcroft.” + </p> + <p> + The owner of the chair was tolerably young, not bad looking, and most + expensively attired. Her face had a certain vacant, languid, half ennuyee + air which I have learned to associate with women of the nouveau-riche type—women + with small brains and restless minds, habitually plunged in a vortex of + gaiety, and miserable when left for a passing moment to their own + resources. + </p> + <p> + Hilda rose from her chair, and walked quietly forward towards the bow of + the steamer. I rose, too, and accompanied her. “Well?” she said, with a + faint touch of triumph in her voice when we had got out of earshot. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what?” I answered, unsuspecting. + </p> + <p> + “I told you everything turned up at the end!” she said, confidently. “Look + at the lady's nose!” + </p> + <p> + “It does turn up at the end—certainly,” I answered, glancing back at + her. “But I hardly see—” + </p> + <p> + “Hubert, you are growing dull! You were not so at Nathaniel's.... It is + the lady herself who has turned up, not her nose—though I grant you + THAT turns up too—the lady I require for our tour in India; the not + impossible chaperon.” + </p> + <p> + “Her nose tells you that?” + </p> + <p> + “Her nose, in part; but her face as a whole, too, her dress, her chair, + her mental attitude to things in general.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Hilda, you can't mean to tell me you have divined her whole + nature at a glance, by magic!” + </p> + <p> + “Not wholly at a glance. I saw her come on board, you know—she + transhipped from some other line at Aden as we did, and I have been + watching her ever since. Yes, I think I have unravelled her.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been astonishingly quick!” I cried. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps—but then, you see, there is so little to unravel! Some + books, we all know, you must 'chew and digest'; they can only be read + slowly; but some you can glance at, skim, and skip; the mere turning of + the pages tells you what little worth knowing there is in them.” + </p> + <p> + “She doesn't LOOK profound,” I admitted, casting an eye at her meaningless + small features as we paced up and down. “I incline to agree you might + easily skim her.” + </p> + <p> + “Skim her—and learn all. The table of contents is SO short.... You + see, in the first place, she is extremely 'exclusive'; she prides herself + on her 'exclusiveness': it, and her shoddy title, are probably all she has + to pride herself upon, and she works them both hard. She is a sham great + lady.” + </p> + <p> + As Hilda spoke, Lady Meadowcroft raised a feebly querulous voice. + “Steward! this won't do! I can smell the engine here. Move my chair. I + must go on further.” + </p> + <p> + “If you go on further that way, my lady,” the steward answered, + good-humouredly, but with a man-servant's deference for any sort of title, + “you'll smell the galley, where they're cooking the dinner. I don't know + which your ladyship would like best—the engine or the galley.” + </p> + <p> + The languid figure leaned back in the chair with an air of resignation. + “I'm sure I don't know why they cook the dinners up so high,” she + murmured, pettishly, to her husband. “Why can't they stick the kitchens + underground—in the hold, I mean—instead of bothering us up + here on deck with them?” + </p> + <p> + The husband was a big, burly, rough-and-ready Yorkshireman—stout, + somewhat pompous, about forty, with hair wearing bald on the forehead: the + personification of the successful business man. “My dear Emmie,” he said, + in a loud voice, with a North Country accent, “the cooks have got to live. + They've got to live like the rest of us. I can never persuade you that the + hands must always be humoured. If you don't humour 'em, they won't work + for you. It's a poor tale when the hands won't work. Even with galleys on + deck, the life of a sea-cook is not generally thowt an enviable position. + Is not a happy one—not a happy one, as the fellah says in the opera. + You must humour your cooks. If you stuck 'em in the hold, you'd get no + dinner at all—that's the long and the short of it.” + </p> + <p> + The languid lady turned away with a sickly, disappointed air. “Then they + ought to have a conscription, or something,” she said, pouting her lips. + “The Government ought to take it in hand and manage it somehow. It's bad + enough having to go by these beastly steamers to India at all, without + having one's breath poisoned by—” the rest of the sentence died away + inaudibly in a general murmur of ineffective grumbling. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think she is EXCLUSIVE?” I asked Hilda as we strolled on + towards the stern, out of the spoilt child's hearing. + </p> + <p> + “Why, didn't you notice?—she looked about her when she came on deck + to see whether there was anybody who WAS anybody sitting there, whom she + might put her chair near. But the Governor of Madras hadn't come up from + his cabin yet; and the wife of the chief Commissioner of Oude had three + civilians hanging about her seat; and the daughters of the + Commander-in-Chief drew their skirts away as she passed. So she did the + next best thing—sat as far apart as she could from the common herd: + meaning all the rest of us. If you can't mingle at once with the Best + People, you can at least assert your exclusiveness negatively, by + declining to associate with the mere multitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Hilda, that is the first time I have ever known you to show any + feminine ill-nature!” + </p> + <p> + “Ill-nature! Not at all. I am merely trying to arrive at the lady's + character for my own guidance. I rather like her, poor little thing. Don't + I tell you she will do? So far from objecting to her, I mean to go the + round of India with her.” + </p> + <p> + “You have decided quickly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, if you insist upon accompanying me, I MUST have a + chaperon; and Lady Meadowcroft will do as well as anybody else. In fact, + being be-ladied, she will do a little better, from the point of view of + Society, though THAT is a detail. The great matter is to fix upon a + possible chaperon at once, and get her well in hand before we arrive at + Bombay.” + </p> + <p> + “But she seems so complaining!” I interposed. “I'm afraid, if you take her + on, you'll get terribly bored with her.” + </p> + <p> + “If SHE takes ME on, you mean. She's not a lady's-maid, though I intend to + go with her; and she may as well give in first as last, for I'm going. Now + see how nice I am to you, sir! I've provided you, too, with a post in her + suite, as you WILL come with me. No, never mind asking me what it is just + yet; all things come to him who waits; and if you will only accept the + post of waiter, I mean all things to come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “All things, Hilda?” I asked, meaningly, with a little tremor of delight. + </p> + <p> + She looked at me with a sudden passing tenderness in her eyes. “Yes, all + things, Hubert. All things. But we mustn't talk of that—though I + begin to see my way clearer now. You shall be rewarded for your constancy + at last, dear knight-errant. As to my chaperon, I'm not afraid of her + boring me; she bores herself, poor lady; one can see that, just to look at + her; but she will be much less bored if she has us two to travel with. + What she needs is constant companionship, bright talk, excitement. She has + come away from London, where she swims with the crowd; she has no + resources of her own, no work, no head, no interests. Accustomed to a + whirl of foolish gaieties, she wearies her small brain; thrown back upon + herself, she bores herself at once, because she has nothing interesting to + tell herself. She absolutely requires somebody else to interest her. She + can't even amuse herself with a book for three minutes together. See, she + has a yellow-backed French novel now, and she is only able to read five + lines at a time; then she gets tired and glances about her listlessly. + What she wants is someone gay, laid on, to divert her all the time from + her own inanity.” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda, how wonderfully quick you are at reading these things! I see you + are right; but I could never have guessed so much myself from such small + premises.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what can you expect, my dear boy? A girl like this, brought up in a + country rectory, a girl of no intellect, busy at home with the fowls, and + the pastry, and the mothers' meetings—suddenly married offhand to a + wealthy man, and deprived of the occupations which were her salvation in + life, to be plunged into the whirl of a London season, and stranded at its + end for want of the diversions which, by dint of use, have become + necessaries of life to her!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Hilda, you are practising upon my credulity. You can't possibly tell + from her look that she was brought up in a country rectory.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. You forget. There my memory comes in. I simply remember + it.” + </p> + <p> + “You remember it? How?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, just in the same way as I remembered your name and your mother's + when I was first introduced to you. I saw a notice once in the births, + deaths, and marriages—'At St. Alphege's, Millington, by the Rev. + Hugh Clitheroe, M.A., father of the bride, Peter Gubbins, Esq., of The + Laurels, Middleston, to Emilia Frances, third daughter of the Rev. Hugh + Clitheroe, rector of Millington.'” + </p> + <p> + “Clitheroe—Gubbins; what on earth has that to do with it? That would + be Mrs. Gubbins: this is Lady Meadowcroft.” + </p> + <p> + “The same article, as the shopmen say—only under a different name. A + year or two later I read a notice in the Times that 'I, Ivor de Courcy + Meadowcroft, of The Laurels, Middleston, Mayor-elect of the Borough of + Middleston, hereby give notice, that I have this day discontinued the use + of the name Peter Gubbins, by which I was formerly known, and have assumed + in lieu thereof the style and title of Ivor de Courcy Meadowcroft, by + which I desire in future to be known.' + </p> + <p> + “A month or two later, again I happened to light upon a notice in the + Telegraph that the Prince of Wales had opened a new hospital for + incurables at Middleston, and that the Mayor, Mr. Ivor Meadowcroft, had + received an intimation of Her Majesty's intention of conferring upon him + the honour of knighthood. Now what do you make of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Putting two and two together,” I answered, with my eye on our subject, + “and taking into consideration the lady's face and manner, I should + incline to suspect that she was the daughter of a poor parson, with the + usual large family in inverse proportion to his means. That she + unexpectedly made a good match with a very wealthy manufacturer who had + raised himself; and that she was puffed up accordingly with a sense of + self-importance.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. He is a millionaire, or something very like it; and, being an + ambitious girl, as she understands ambition, she got him to stand for the + mayoralty, I don't doubt, in the year when the Prince of Wales was going + to open the Royal Incurables, on purpose to secure him the chance of a + knighthood. Then she said, very reasonably, 'I WON'T be Lady Gubbins—Sir + Peter Gubbins!' There's an aristocratic name for you!—and, by a + stroke of his pen, he straightway dis-Gubbinised himself, and emerged as + Sir Ivor de Courcy Meadowcroft.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Hilda, you know everything about everybody! And what do you + suppose they're going to India for?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, you've asked me a hard one. I haven't the faintest notion.... And + yet... let me think. How is this for a conjecture? Sir Ivor is interested + in steel rails, I believe, and in railway plant generally. I'm almost sure + I've seen his name in connection with steel rails in reports of public + meetings. There's a new Government railway now being built on the Nepaul + frontier—one of these strategic railways, I think they call them—it's + mentioned in the papers we got at Aden. He MIGHT be going out for that. We + can watch his conversation, and see what part of India he talks about.” + </p> + <p> + “They don't seem inclined to give us much chance of talking,” I objected. + </p> + <p> + “No; they are VERY exclusive. But I'm very exclusive, too. And I mean to + give them a touch of my exclusiveness. I venture to predict that, before + we reach Bombay, they'll be going down on their knees and imploring us to + travel with them.” + </p> + <p> + At table, as it happened, from next morning's breakfast the Meadowcrofts + sat next to us. Hilda was on one side of me; Lady Meadowcroft on the + other; and beyond her again, bluff Yorkshire Sir Ivor, with his cold, + hard, honest blue North Country eyes, and his dignified, pompous English, + breaking down at times into a North Country colloquialism. They talked + chiefly to each other. Acting on Hilda's instructions, I took care not to + engage in conversation with our “exclusive” neighbour, except so far as + the absolute necessities of the table compelled me. I “troubled her for + the salt” in the most frigid voice. “May I pass you the potato salad?” + became on my lips a barrier of separation. Lady Meadowcroft marked and + wondered. People of her sort are so anxious to ingratiate themselves with + “all the Best People” that if they find you are wholly unconcerned about + the privilege of conversation with a “titled person,” they instantly judge + you to be a distinguished character. As the days rolled on, Lady + Meadowcroft's voice began to melt by degrees. Once, she asked me, quite + civilly, to send round the ice; she even saluted me on the third day out + with a polite “Good-morning, doctor.” + </p> + <p> + Still, I maintained (by Hilda's advice) my dignified reserve, and took my + seat severely with a cold “Good-morning.” I behaved like a high-class + consultant, who expects to be made Physician in Ordinary to Her Majesty. + </p> + <p> + At lunch that day, Hilda played her first card with delicious + unconsciousness—apparent unconsciousness; for, when she chose, she + was a consummate actress. She played it at a moment when Lady Meadowcroft, + who by this time was burning with curiosity on our account, had paused + from her talk with her husband to listen to us. I happened to say + something about some Oriental curios belonging to an aunt of mine in + London. Hilda seized the opportunity. “What did you say was her name?” she + asked, blandly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Lady Tepping,” I answered, in perfect innocence. “She has a fancy + for these things, you know. She brought a lot of them home with her from + Burma.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, as I have already explained, my poor dear aunt is an + extremely commonplace old Army widow, whose husband happened to get + knighted among the New Year's honours for some brush with the natives on + the Shan frontier. But Lady Meadowcroft was at the stage where a title is + a title; and the discovery that I was the nephew of a “titled person” + evidently interested her. I could feel rather than see that she glanced + significantly aside at Sir Ivor, and that Sir Ivor in return made a little + movement of his shoulders equivalent to “I told you so.” + </p> + <p> + Now Hilda knew perfectly well that the aunt of whom I spoke WAS Lady + Tepping; so I felt sure that she had played this card of malice prepense, + to pique Lady Meadowcroft. + </p> + <p> + But Lady Meadowcroft herself seized the occasion with inartistic avidity. + She had hardly addressed us as yet. At the sound of the magic passport, + she pricked up her ears, and turned to me suddenly. “Burma?” she said, as + if to conceal the true reason for her change of front. “Burma? I had a + cousin there once. He was in the Gloucestershire Regiment.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” I answered. My tone was one of utter unconcern in her cousin's + history. “Miss Wade, will you take Bombay ducks with your curry?” In + public, I thought it wise under the circumstances to abstain from calling + her Hilda. It might lead to misconceptions; people might suppose we were + more than fellow-travellers. + </p> + <p> + “You have had relations in Burma?” Lady Meadowcroft persisted. + </p> + <p> + I manifested a desire to discontinue the conversation. “Yes,” I answered, + coldly, “my uncle commanded there.” + </p> + <p> + “Commanded there! Really! Ivor, do you hear? Dr. Cumberledge's uncle + commanded in Burma.” A faint intonation on the word commanded drew + unobtrusive attention to its social importance. “May I ask what was his + name?—my cousin was there, you see.” An insipid smile. “We may have + friends in common.” + </p> + <p> + “He was a certain Sir Malcolm Tepping,” I blurted out, staring hard at my + plate. + </p> + <p> + “Tepping! I think I have heard Dick speak of him, Ivor.” + </p> + <p> + “Your cousin,” Sir Ivor answered, with emphatic dignity, “is certain to + have mixed with nobbut the highest officials in Burma.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm sure Dick used to speak of a certain Sir Malcolm. My cousin's + name, Dr. Cumberledge, was Maltby—Captain Richard Maltby.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” I answered, with an icy stare. “I cannot pretend to the pleasure + of having met him.” + </p> + <p> + Be exclusive to the exclusive, and they burn to know you. From that moment + forth Lady Meadowcroft pestered us with her endeavours to scrape + acquaintance. Instead of trying how far she could place her chair from us, + she set it down as near us as politeness permitted. She entered into + conversation whenever an opening afforded itself, and we two stood off + haughtily. She even ventured to question me about our relation to one + another: “Miss Wade is your cousin, I suppose?” she suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, no,” I answered, with a glassy smile. “We are not connected in + any way.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are travelling together!” + </p> + <p> + “Merely as you and I are travelling together—fellow-passengers on + the same steamer.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, you have met before.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly. Miss Wade was a nurse at St. Nathaniel's, in London, + where I was one of the house doctors. When I came on board at Cape Town, + after some months in South Africa, I found she was going by the same + steamer to India.” Which was literally true. To have explained the rest + would have been impossible, at least to anyone who did not know the whole + of Hilda's history. + </p> + <p> + “And what are you both going to do when you get to India?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, Lady Meadowcroft,” I said, severely, “I have not asked Miss Wade + what she is going to do. If you inquire of her point-blank, as you have + inquired of me, I dare say she will tell you. For myself, I am just a + globe-trotter, amusing myself. I only want to have a look round at India.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not going out to take an appointment?” + </p> + <p> + “By George, Emmie,” the burly Yorkshireman put in, with an air of + annoyance, “you are cross-questioning Dr. Cumberledge; nowt less than + cross-questioning him!” + </p> + <p> + I waited a second. “No,” I answered, slowly. “I have not been practising + of late. I am looking about me. I travel for enjoyment.” + </p> + <p> + That made her think better of me. She was of the kind, indeed, who think + better of a man if they believe him to be idle. + </p> + <p> + She dawdled about all day on deck chairs, herself, seldom even reading; and + she was eager now to drag Hilda into conversation. Hilda resisted; she had + found a volume in the library which immensely interested her. + </p> + <p> + “What ARE you reading, Miss Wade?” Lady Meadowcroft cried at last, quite + savagely. It made her angry to see anybody else pleased and occupied when + she herself was listless. + </p> + <p> + “A delightful book!” Hilda answered. “The Buddhist Praying Wheel, by + William Simpson.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Meadowcroft took it from her and turned the pages over with a languid + air. “Looks awfully dull!” she observed, with a faint smile, at last, + returning it. + </p> + <p> + “It's charming,” Hilda retorted, glancing at one of the illustrations. “It + explains so much. It shows one why one turns round one's chair at cards + for luck; and why, when a church is consecrated, the bishop walks three + times about it sunwise.” + </p> + <p> + “Our Bishop is a dreadfully prosy old gentleman,” Lady Meadowcroft + answered, gliding off at a tangent on a personality, as is the wont of her + kind; “he had, oh, such a dreadful quarrel with my father over the rules + of the St. Alphege Schools at Millington.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” Hilda answered, turning once more to her book. Lady Meadowcroft + looked annoyed. It would never have occurred to her that within a few + weeks she was to owe her life to that very abstruse work, and what Hilda + had read in it. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon, as we watched the flying fish from the ship's side, Hilda + said to me abruptly, “My chaperon is an extremely nervous woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Nervous about what?” + </p> + <p> + “About disease, chiefly. She has the temperament that dreads infection—and + therefore catches it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you noticed that she often doubles her thumb under her fingers—folds + her fist across it—so—especially when anybody talks about + anything alarming? If the conversation happens to turn on jungle fever, or + any subject like that, down goes her thumb instantly, and she clasps her + fist over it with a convulsive squeeze. At the same time, too, her face + twitches. I know what that trick means. She's horribly afraid of tropical + diseases, though she never says so.” + </p> + <p> + “And you attach importance to her fear?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. I count upon it as probably our chief means of catching and + fixing her.” + </p> + <p> + “As how?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head and quizzed me. “Wait and see. You are a doctor; I, a + trained nurse. Before twenty-four hours, I foresee she will ask us. She is + sure to ask us, now she has learned that you are Lady Tepping's nephew, + and that I am acquainted with several of the Best People.” + </p> + <p> + That evening, about ten o'clock, Sir Ivor strolled up to me in the + smoking-room with affected unconcern. He laid his hand on my arm and drew + me aside mysteriously. The ship's doctor was there, playing a quiet game + of poker with a few of the passengers. “I beg your pardon, Dr. + Cumberledge,” he began, in an undertone, “could you come outside with me a + minute? Lady Meadowcroft has sent me up to you with a message.” + </p> + <p> + I followed him on to the open deck. “It is quite impossible, my dear sir,” + I said, shaking my head austerely, for I divined his errand. “I can't go + and see Lady Meadowcroft. Medical etiquette, you know; the constant and + salutary rule of the profession!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked, astonished. + </p> + <p> + “The ship carries a surgeon,” I replied, in my most precise tone. “He is a + duly qualified gentleman, very able in his profession, and he ought to + inspire your wife with confidence. I regard this vessel as Dr. Boyell's + practice, and all on board it as virtually his patients.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Ivor's face fell. “But Lady Meadowcroft is not at all well,” he + answered, looking piteous; “and—she can't endure the ship's doctor. + Such a common man, you know! His loud voice disturbs her. You MUST have + noticed that my wife is a lady of exceptionally delicate nervous + organisation.” He hesitated, beamed on me, and played his trump card. “She + dislikes being attended by owt but a GENTLEMAN.” + </p> + <p> + “If a gentleman is also a medical man,” I answered, “his sense of duty + towards his brother practitioners would, of course, prevent him from + interfering in their proper sphere, or putting upon them the unmerited + slight of letting them see him preferred before them.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you positively refuse?” he asked, wistfully, drawing back. I could + see he stood in a certain dread of that imperious little woman. + </p> + <p> + I conceded a point. “I will go down in twenty minutes,” I admitted, + looking grave,—“not just now, lest I annoy my colleague,—and I + will glance at Lady Meadowcroft in an unprofessional way. If I think her + case demands treatment, I will tell Dr. Boyell.” And I returned to the + smoking-room and took up a novel. + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes later I knocked at the door of the lady's private cabin, + with my best bedside manner in full play. As I suspected, she was nervous—nothing + more—my mere smile reassured her. I observed that she held her thumb + fast, doubled under in her fist, all the time I was questioning her, as + Hilda had said; and I also noticed that the fingers closed about it + convulsively at first, but gradually relaxed as my voice restored + confidence. She thanked me profusely, and was really grateful. + </p> + <p> + On deck next day she was very communicative. They were going to make the + regular tour first, she said, but were to go on to the Tibetan frontier at + the end, where Sir Ivor had a contract to construct a railway, in a very + wild region. Tigers? Natives? Oh, she didn't mind either of THEM; but she + was told that that district—what did they call it? the Terai, or + something—was terribly unwholesome. Fever was what-you-may-call-it + there—yes, “endemic”—that was the word; “oh, thank you, Dr. + Cumberledge.” She hated the very name of fever. “Now you, Miss Wade, I + suppose,” with an awestruck smile, “are not in the least afraid of it?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda looked up at her calmly. “Not in the least,” she answered. “I have + nursed hundreds of cases.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my, how dreadful! And never caught it?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. I am not afraid, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish <i>I</i> wasn't! Hundreds of cases! It makes one ill to think of + it!... And all successfully?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost all of them.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't tell your patients stories when they're ill about your other + cases who died, do you?” Lady Meadowcroft went on, with a quick little + shudder. + </p> + <p> + Hilda's face by this time was genuinely sympathetic. “Oh, never!” she + answered, with truth. “That would be very bad nursing! One's object in + treating a case is to make one's patient well; so one naturally avoids any + sort of subject that might be distressing or alarming.” + </p> + <p> + “You really mean it?” Her face was pleading. + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course. I try to make my patients my friends; I talk to them + cheerfully; I amuse them and distract them; I get them away, as far as I + can, from themselves and their symptoms.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a lovely person to have about one when one's ill!” the languid + lady exclaimed, ecstatically. “I SHOULD like to send for you if I wanted + nursing! But there—it's always so, of course, with a real lady; + common nurses frighten one so. I wish I could always have a lady to nurse + me!” + </p> + <p> + “A person who sympathises—that is the really important thing,” Hilda + answered, in her quiet voice. “One must find out first one's patient's + temperament. YOU are nervous, I can see.” She laid one hand on her new + friend's arm. “You need to be kept amused and engaged when you are ill; + what YOU require most is—insight—and sympathy.” + </p> + <p> + The little fist doubled up again; the vacant face grew positively sweet. + “That's just it! You have hit it! How clever you are! I want all that. I + suppose, Miss Wade, YOU never go out for private nursing?” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” Hilda answered. “You see, Lady Meadowcroft, I don't nurse for a + livelihood. I have means of my own; I took up this work as an occupation + and a sphere in life. I haven't done anything yet but hospital nursing.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Meadowcroft drew a slight sigh. “What a pity!” she murmured, slowly. + “It does seem hard that your sympathies should all be thrown away, so to + speak, on a horrid lot of wretched poor people, instead of being spent on + your own equals—who would so greatly appreciate them.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can venture to say the poor appreciate them, too,” Hilda + answered, bridling up a little—for there was nothing she hated so + much as class-prejudices. “Besides, they need sympathy more; they have + fewer comforts. I should not care to give up attending my poor people for + the sake of the idle rich.” + </p> + <p> + The set phraseology of the country rectory recurred to Lady Meadowcroft—“our + poorer brethren,” and so forth. “Oh, of course,” she answered, with the + mechanical acquiescence such women always give to moral platitudes. “One + must do one's best for the poor, I know—for conscience' sake and all + that; it's our duty, and we all try hard to do it. But they're so terribly + ungrateful! Don't you think so? Do you know, Miss Wade, in my father's + parish—” + </p> + <p> + Hilda cut her short with a sunny smile—half contemptuous toleration, + half genuine pity. “We are all ungrateful,” she said; “but the poor, I + think, the least so. I'm sure the gratitude I've often had from my poor + women at St. Nathaniel's has made me sometimes feel really ashamed of + myself. I had done so little—and they thanked me so much for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Which only shows,” Lady Meadowcroft broke in, “that one ought always to + have a LADY to nurse one.” + </p> + <p> + “Ca marche!” Hilda said to me, with a quiet smile, a few minutes after, + when her ladyship had disappeared in her fluffy robe down the + companion-ladder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ca marche,” I answered. “In an hour or two you will have succeeded + in landing your chaperon. And what is most amusing, landed her, too, + Hilda, just by being yourself—letting her see frankly the actual + truth of what you think and feel about her and about everyone!” + </p> + <p> + “I could not do otherwise,” Hilda answered, growing grave. “I must be + myself, or die for it. My method of angling consists in showing myself + just as I am. You call me an actress, but I am not really one; I am only a + woman who can use her personality for her own purposes. If I go with Lady + Meadowcroft, it will be a mutual advantage. I shall really sympathise with + her for I can see the poor thing is devoured with nervousness.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you think you will be able to stand her?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, yes. She's not a bad little thing, au fond, when you get to + know her. It is society that has spoilt her. She would have made a nice, + helpful, motherly body if she'd married the curate.” + </p> + <p> + As we neared Bombay, conversation grew gradually more and more Indian; it + always does under similar circumstances. A sea voyage is half retrospect, + half prospect; it has no personal identity. You leave Liverpool for New + York at the English standpoint, and are full of what you did in London or + Manchester; half-way over, you begin to discuss American custom-houses and + New York hotels; by the time you reach Sandy Hook, the talk is all of + quick trains west and the shortest route from Philadelphia to New Orleans. + You grow by slow stages into the new attitude; at Malta you are still + regretting Europe; after Aden, your mind dwells most on the hire of + punkah-wallahs and the proverbial toughness of the dak-bungalow chicken. + </p> + <p> + “How's the plague at Bombay now?” an inquisitive passenger inquired of the + Captain at dinner our last night out. “Getting any better?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Meadowcroft's thumb dived between her fingers again. “What! is there + plague in Bombay?” she asked, innocently, in her nervous fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Plague in Bombay!” the Captain burst out, his burly voice resounding down + the saloon. “Why, bless your soul, ma'am, where else would you expect it? + Plague in Bombay! It's been there these five years. Better? Not quite. + Going ahead like mad. They're dying by thousands.” + </p> + <p> + “A microbe, I believe, Dr. Boyell,” the inquisitive passenger observed + deferentially, with due respect for medical science. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” the ship's doctor answered, helping himself to an olive. “Forty + million microbes to each square inch of the Bombay atmosphere.” + </p> + <p> + “And we are going to Bombay!” Lady Meadowcroft exclaimed, aghast. + </p> + <p> + “You must have known there was plague there, my dear,” Sir Ivor put in, + soothingly, with a deprecating glance. “It's been in all the papers. But + only the natives get it.” + </p> + <p> + The thumb uncovered itself a little. “Oh, only the natives!” Lady + Meadowcroft echoed, relieved; as if a few thousand Hindus more or less + would hardly be missed among the blessings of British rule in India. “You + know, Ivor, I never read those DREADFUL things in the papers. <i>I</i> + read the Society news, and Our Social Diary, and columns that are headed + 'Mainly About People.' I don't care for anything but the Morning Post and + the World and Truth. I hate horrors.... But it's a blessing to think it's + only the natives.” + </p> + <p> + “Plenty of Europeans, too, bless your heart,” the Captain thundered out + unfeelingly. “Why, last time I was in port, a nurse died at the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, only a nurse—” Lady Meadowcroft began, and then coloured up + deeply, with a side glance at Hilda. + </p> + <p> + “And lots besides nurses,” the Captain continued, positively delighted at + the terror he was inspiring. “Pucka Englishmen and Englishwomen. Bad + business this plague, Dr. Cumberledge! Catches particularly those who are + most afraid of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's only in Bombay?” Lady Meadowcroft cried, clutching at the last + straw. I could see she was registering a mental determination to go + straight up-country the moment she landed. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it!” the Captain answered, with provoking cheerfulness. + “Rampaging about like a roaring lion all over India!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Meadowcroft's thumb must have suffered severely. The nails dug into + it as if it were someone else's. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, as we were on deck in the cool of the evening, the + thing was settled. “My wife,” Sir Ivor said, coming up to us with a + serious face, “has delivered her ultimatum. Positively her ultimatum. I've + had a mort o' trouble with her, and now she's settled. EITHER, she goes + back from Bombay by the return steamer; OR ELSE—you and Miss Wade + must name your own terms to accompany us on our tour, in case of + emergencies.” He glanced wistfully at Hilda. “DO you think you can help + us?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda made no hypocritical pretence of hanging back. Her nature was + transparent. “If you wish it, yes,” she answered, shaking hands upon the + bargain. “I only want to go about and see India; I can see it quite as + well with Lady Meadowcroft as without her—and even better. It is + unpleasant for a woman to travel unattached. I require a chaperon, and am + glad to find one. I will join your party, paying my own hotel and + travelling expenses, and considering myself as engaged in case your wife + should need my services. For that, you can pay me, if you like, some + nominal retaining fee—five pounds or anything. The money is + immaterial to me. I like to be useful, and I sympathise with nerves; but + it may make your wife feel she is really keeping a hold over me if we put + the arrangement on a business basis. As a matter of fact, whatever sum she + chooses to pay, I shall hand it over at once to the Bombay Plague + Hospital.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Ivor looked relieved. “Thank you ever so much!” he said, wringing her + hand warmly. “I thowt you were a brick, and now I know it. My wife says + your face inspires confidence, and your voice sympathy. She MUST have you + with her. And you, Dr. Cumberledge?” + </p> + <p> + “I follow Miss Wade's lead,” I answered, in my most solemn tone, with an + impressive bow. “I, too, am travelling for instruction and amusement only; + and if it would give Lady Meadowcroft a greater sense of security to have + a duly qualified practitioner in her suite, I shall be glad on the same + terms to swell your party. I will pay my own way; and I will allow you to + name any nominal sum you please for your claim on my medical attendance, + if necessary. I hope and believe, however, that our presence will so far + reassure our prospective patient as to make our post in both cases a + sinecure.” + </p> + <p> + Three minutes later Lady Meadowcroft rushed on deck and flung her arms + impulsively round Hilda. “You dear, good girl!” she cried; “how sweet and + kind of you! I really COULDN'T have landed if you hadn't promised to come + with us. And Dr. Cumberledge, too! So nice and friendly of you both. But + there, it IS so much pleasanter to deal with ladies and gentlemen!” + </p> + <p> + So Hilda won her point; and what was best, won it fairly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE GUIDE WHO KNEW THE COUNTRY + </h3> + <p> + We toured all round India with the Meadowcrofts; and really the lady who + was “so very exclusive” turned out not a bad little thing, when once one + had succeeded in breaking through the ring-fence with which she surrounded + herself. She had an endless, quenchless restlessness, it is true; her eyes + wandered aimlessly; she never was happy for two minutes together, unless + she was surrounded by friends, and was seeing something. What she saw did + not interest her much; certainly her tastes were on the level with those + of a very young child. An odd-looking house, a queerly dressed man, a tree + cut into shape to look like a peacock, delighted her far more than the + most glorious view of the quaintest old temple. Still, she must be seeing. + She could no more sit still than a fidgety child or a monkey at the Zoo. + To be up and doing was her nature—doing nothing, to be sure; but + still, doing it strenuously. + </p> + <p> + So we went the regulation round of Delhi and Agra, the Taj Mahal, and the + Ghats at Benares, at railroad speed, fulfilling the whole duty of the + modern globe-trotter. Lady Meadowcroft looked at everything—for ten + minutes at a stretch; then she wanted to be off, to visit the next thing + set down for her in her guide-book. As we left each town she murmured + mechanically: “Well, we've seen THAT, thank Heaven!” and straightway went + on, with equal eagerness, and equal boredom, to see the one after it. + </p> + <p> + The only thing that did NOT bore her, indeed, was Hilda's bright talk. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Wade,” she would say, clasping her hands, and looking up into + Hilda's eyes with her own empty blue ones, “you ARE so funny! So original, + don't you know! You never talk or think of anything like other people. I + can't imagine how such ideas come up in your mind. If <i>I</i> were to try + all day, I'm sure I should never hit upon them!” Which was so perfectly + true as to be a trifle obvious. + </p> + <p> + Sir Ivor, not being interested in temples, but in steel rails, had gone on + at once to his concession, or contract, or whatever else it was, on the + north-east frontier, leaving his wife to follow and rejoin him in the + Himalayas as soon as she had exhausted the sights of India. So, after a + few dusty weeks of wear and tear on the Indian railways, we met him once + more in the recesses of Nepaul, where he was busy constructing a light + local line for the reigning Maharajah. + </p> + <p> + If Lady Meadowcroft had been bored at Allahabad and Ajmere, she was + immensely more bored in a rough bungalow among the trackless depths of the + Himalayan valleys. To anybody with eyes in his head, indeed, Toloo, where + Sir Ivor had pitched his headquarters, was lovely enough to keep one + interested for a twelvemonth. Snow-clad needles of rock hemmed it in on + either side; great deodars rose like huge tapers on the hillsides; the + plants and flowers were a joy to look at. But Lady Meadowcroft did not + care for flowers which one could not wear in one's hair; and what was the + good of dressing here, with no one but Ivor and Dr. Cumberledge to see + one? She yawned till she was tired; then she began to grow peevish. + </p> + <p> + “Why Ivor should want to build a railway at all in this stupid, silly + place,” she said, as we sat in the veranda in the cool of evening, “I'm + sure <i>I</i> can't imagine. We MUST go somewhere. This is maddening, + maddening! Miss Wade—Dr. Cumberledge—I count upon you to + discover SOMETHING for me to do. If I vegetate like this, seeing nothing + all day long but those eternal hills”—she clenched her little fist—“I + shall go MAD with ennui.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda had a happy thought. “I have a fancy to see some of these Buddhist + monasteries,” she said, smiling as one smiles at a tiresome child whom one + likes in spite of everything. “You remember, I was reading that book of + Mr. Simpson's on the steamer—coming out—a curious book about + the Buddhist Praying Wheels; and it made me want to see one of their + temples immensely. What do you say to camping out? A few weeks in the + hills? It would be an adventure, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “Camping out?” Lady Meadowcroft exclaimed, half roused from her languor by + the idea of a change. “Oh, do you think that would be fun? Should we sleep + on the ground? But, wouldn't it be dreadfully, horribly uncomfortable?” + </p> + <p> + “Not half so uncomfortable as you'll find yourself here at Toloo in a few + days, Emmie,” her husband put in, grimly. “The rains will soon be on, + lass; and when the rains are on, by all accounts, they're precious heavy + hereabouts—rare fine rains, so that a man's half-flooded out of his + bed o' nights—which won't suit YOU, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + The poor little woman clasped her twitching hands in feeble agony. “Oh, + Ivor, how dreadful! Is it what they call the mongoose, or monsoon, or + something? But if they're so bad here, surely they'll be worse in the + hills—and camping out, too—won't they?” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you go the right way to work. Ah'm told it never rains t'other + side o' the hills. The mountains stop the clouds, and once you're over, + you're safe enough. Only, you must take care to keep well in the + Maharajah's territory. Cross the frontier t'other side into Tibet, an' + they'll skin thee alive as soon as look at thee. They don't like strangers + in Tibet; prejudiced against them, somehow; they pretty well skinned that + young chap Landor who tried to go there a year ago.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Ivor, I don't want to be skinned alive! I'm not an eel, please!” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, lass. Leave that to me. I can get thee a guide, a man + that's very well acquainted with the mountains. I was talking to a + scientific explorer here t'other day, and he knows of a good guide who can + take you anywhere. He'll get you the chance of seeing the inside of a + Buddhist monastery, if you like, Miss Wade. He's hand in glove with all + the religion they've got in this part o' the country. They've got noan + much, but at what there is, he's a rare devout one.” + </p> + <p> + We discussed the matter fully for two or three days before we made up our + minds. Lady Meadowcroft was undecided between her hatred of dulness and + her haunting fear that scorpions and snakes would intrude upon our tents + and beds while we were camping. In the end, however, the desire for change + carried the day. She decided to dodge the rainy season by getting behind + the Himalayan-passes, in the dry region to the north of the great range, + where rain seldom falls, the country being watered only by the melting of + the snows on the high summits. + </p> + <p> + This decision delighted Hilda, who, since she came to India, had fallen a + prey to the fashionable vice of amateur photography. She took to it + enthusiastically. She had bought herself a first-rate camera of the latest + scientific pattern at Bombay, and ever since had spent all her time and + spoiled her pretty hands in “developing.” She was also seized with a craze + for Buddhism. The objects that everywhere particularly attracted her were + the old Buddhist temples and tombs and sculptures with which India is + studded. Of these she had taken some hundreds of views, all printed by + herself with the greatest care and precision. But in India, after all, + Buddhism is a dead creed. Its monuments alone remain; she was anxious to + see the Buddhist religion in its living state; and that she could only do + in these remote outlying Himalayan valleys. + </p> + <p> + Our outfit, therefore, included a dark tent for Hilda's photographic + apparatus; a couple of roomy tents to live and sleep in; a small + cooking-stove; a cook to look after it; half-a-dozen bearers; and the + highly recommended guide who knew his way about the country. In three days + we were ready, to Sir Ivor's great delight. He was fond of his pretty + wife, and proud of her, I believe; but when once she was away from the + whirl and bustle of the London that she loved, it was a relief to him, I + fancy, to pursue his work alone, unhampered by her restless and querulous + childishness. + </p> + <p> + On the morning when we were to make our start, the guide who was “well + acquainted with the mountains” turned up—as villainous-looking a + person as I have ever set eyes on. He was sullen and furtive. I judged him + at sight to be half Hindu, half Tibetan. He had a dark complexion, between + brown and tawny; narrow slant eyes, very small and beady-black, with a + cunning leer in their oblique corners; a flat nose much broadened at the + wings; a cruel, thick, sensuous mouth, and high cheek-bones; the whole + surmounted by a comprehensive scowl and an abundant crop of lank black + hair, tied up in a knot at the nape of the neck with a yellow ribbon. His + face was shifty; his short, stout form looked well adapted to mountain + climbing, and also to wriggling. A deep scar on his left cheek did not + help to inspire confidence. But he was polite and civil-spoken. Altogether + a clever, unscrupulous, wide-awake soul, who would serve you well if he + thought he could make by it, and would betray you at a pinch to the + highest bidder. + </p> + <p> + We set out, in merry mood, prepared to solve all the abstruse problems of + the Buddhist religion. Our spoilt child stood the camping out better than + I expected. She was fretful, of course, and worried about trifles; she + missed her maid and her accustomed comforts; but she minded the roughing + it less, on the whole, than she had minded the boredom of inaction in the + bungalow; and, being cast on Hilda and myself for resources, she suddenly + evolved an unexpected taste for producing, developing, and printing + photographs. We took dozens, as we went along, of little villages on our + route, wood-built villages with quaint houses and turrets; and as Hilda + had brought her collection of prints with her, for comparison of the + Indian and Nepaulese monuments, we spent the evenings after our short + day's march each day in arranging and collating them. We had planned to be + away six weeks, at least. In that time the monsoon would have burst and + passed. Our guide thought we might see all that was worth seeing of the + Buddhist monasteries, and Sir Ivor thought we should have fairly escaped + the dreaded wet season. + </p> + <p> + “What do you make of our guide?” I asked of Hilda on our fourth day out. I + began somehow to distrust him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he seems all right,” Hilda answered, carelessly—and her voice + reassured me. “He's a rogue, of course; all guides and interpreters, and + dragomans and the like, in out-of-the-way places, always ARE rogues. If + they were honest men, they would share the ordinary prejudices of their + countrymen, and would have nothing to do with the hated stranger. But in + this case our friend, Ram Das, has no end to gain by getting us into + mischief. If he had, he wouldn't scruple for a second to cut our throats; + but then, there are too many of us. He will probably try to cheat us by + making preposterous charges when he gets us back to Toloo; but that's Lady + Meadowcroft's business. I don't doubt Sir Ivor will be more than a match + for him there. I'll back one shrewd Yorkshireman against any three Tibetan + half-castes, any day.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right that he would cut our throats if it served his purpose,” I + answered. “He's servile, and servility goes hand in hand with treachery. + The more I watch him, the more I see 'scoundrel' written in large type on + every bend of the fellow's oily shoulders.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, he's a bad lot, I know. The cook, who can speak a little English + and a little Tibetan, as well as Hindustani, tells me Ram Das has the + worst reputation of any man in the mountains. But he says he's a very good + guide to the passes, for all that, and if he's well paid will do what he's + paid for.” + </p> + <p> + Next day but one we approached at last, after several short marches, the + neighbourhood of what our guide assured us was a Buddhist monastery. I was + glad when he told us of it, giving the place the name of a well-known + Nepaulese village; for, to say the truth, I was beginning to get + frightened. Judging by the sun, for I had brought no compass, it struck me + that we seemed to have been marching almost due north ever since we left + Toloo; and I fancied such a line of march must have brought us by this + time suspiciously near the Tibetan frontier. Now, I had no desire to be + “skinned alive,” as Sir Ivor put it. I did not wish to emulate St. + Bartholomew and others of the early Christian martyrs; so I was pleased to + learn that we were really drawing near to Kulak, the first of the + Nepaulese Buddhist monasteries to which our well-informed guide, himself a + Buddhist, had promised to introduce us. + </p> + <p> + We were tramping up a beautiful high mountain valley, closed round on + every side by snowy peaks. A brawling river ran over a rocky bed in + cataracts down its midst. Crags rose abruptly a little in front of us. + Half-way up the slope to the left, on a ledge of rock, rose a long, low + building with curious, pyramid-like roofs, crowned at either end by a sort + of minaret, which resembled more than anything else a huge earthenware + oil-jar. This was the monastery or lamasery we had come so far to see. + Honestly, at first sight, I did not feel sure it was worth the trouble. + </p> + <p> + Our guide called a halt, and turned to us with a sudden peremptory air. + His servility had vanished. “You stoppee here,” he said, slowly, in broken + English, “while me-a go on to see whether Lama-sahibs ready to take you. + Must ask leave from Lama-sahibs to visit village; if no ask leave”—he + drew his hand across his throat with a significant gesture—“Lama-sahibs + cuttee head off Eulopean.” + </p> + <p> + “Goodness gracious!” Lady Meadowcroft cried, clinging tight to Hilda. + “Miss Wade, this is dreadful! Where on earth have you brought us to?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right,” Hilda answered, trying to soothe her, though she + herself began to look a trifle anxious. “That's only Ram Das's graphic way + of putting things.” + </p> + <p> + We sat down on a bank of trailing club-moss by the side of the rough + track, for it was nothing more, and let our guide go on to negotiate with + the Lamas. “Well, to-night, anyhow,” I exclaimed, looking up, “we shall + sleep on our own mattresses with a roof over our heads. These monks will + find us quarters. That's always something.” + </p> + <p> + We got out our basket and made tea. In all moments of doubt, your + Englishwoman makes tea. As Hilda said, she will boil her Etna on Vesuvius. + We waited and drank our tea; we drank our tea and waited. A full hour + passed away. Ram Das never came back. I began to get frightened. + </p> + <p> + At last something stirred. A group of excited men in yellow robes issued + forth from the monastery, wound their way down the hill, and approached + us, shouting. They gesticulated as they came. I could see they looked + angry. All at once Hilda clutched my arm: “Hubert,” she cried, in an + undertone, “we are betrayed! I see it all now. These are Tibetans, not + Nepaulese.” She paused a second, then went on: “I see it all—all, + all. Our guide—Ram Das—he HAD a reason, after all, for getting + us into mischief. Sebastian must have tracked us; he was bribed by + Sebastian! It was HE who recommended Ram Das to Sir Ivor!” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think so?” I asked, low. + </p> + <p> + “Because—look for yourself; these men who come are dressed in + yellow. That means Tibetans. Red is the colour of the Lamas in Nepaul; + yellow in Tibet and all other Buddhist countries. I read it in the book—The + Buddhist Praying Wheel, you know. These are Tibetan fanatics, and, as Ram + Das said, they will probably cut our throats for us.” + </p> + <p> + I was thankful that Hilda's marvellous memory gave us even that moment for + preparation and facing the difficulty. I saw in a flash that she was quite + right: we had been inveigled across the frontier. These moutis were + Tibetans—Buddhist inquisitors—enemies. Tibet is the most + jealous country on earth; it allows no stranger to intrude upon its + borders. I had to meet the worst. I stood there, a single white man, armed + only with one revolver, answerable for the lives of two English ladies, + and accompanied by a cringing out-caste Ghoorka cook and half-a-dozen + doubtful Nepaulese bearers. To fly was impossible. We were fairly trapped. + There was nothing for it but to wait and put a bold face on our utter + helplessness. + </p> + <p> + I turned to our spoilt child. “Lady Meadowcroft,” I said, very seriously, + “this is danger; real danger. Now, listen to me. You must do as you are + bid. No crying; no cowardice. Your life and ours depend upon it. We must + none of us give way. We must pretend to be brave. Show one sign of fear, + and these people will probably cut our throats on the spot here.” + </p> + <p> + To my immense surprise, Lady Meadowcroft rose to the height of the + situation. “Oh, as long as it isn't disease,” she answered, resignedly; + “I'm not much afraid of anything. I should mind the plague a great deal + more than I mind a set of howling savages.” + </p> + <p> + By that time the men in yellow robes had almost come up to us. It was + clear they were boiling over with indignation; but they still did + everything decently and in order. One, who was dressed in finer vestments + than the rest—a portly person, with the fat, greasy cheeks and + drooping flesh of a celibate church dignitary, whom I therefore judged to + be the abbot, or chief Lama of the monastery—gave orders to his + subordinates in a language which we did not understand. His men obeyed + him. In a second they had closed us round, as in a ring or cordon. + </p> + <p> + Then the chief Lama stepped forward, with an authoritative air, like + Pooh-Bah in the play, and said something in the same tongue to the cook, + who spoke a little Tibetan. It was obvious from his manner that Ram Das + had told them all about us; for the Lama selected the cook as interpreter + at once, without taking any notice of myself, the ostensible head of the + petty expedition. + </p> + <p> + “What does he, say?” I asked, as soon as he had finished speaking. + </p> + <p> + The cook, who had been salaaming all the time, at the risk of a broken + back, in his most utterly abject and grovelling attitude, made answer + tremulously in his broken English: “This is priest-sahib of the temple. He + very angry, because why? Eulopean-sahib and mem-sahibs come into + Tibet-land. No Eulopean, no Hindu, must come into Tibet-land. Priest-sahib + say, cut all Eulopean throats. Let Nepaul man go back like him come, to + him own country.” + </p> + <p> + I looked as if the message were purely indifferent to me. “Tell him,” I + said, smiling—though at some little effort—“we were not trying + to enter Tibet. Our rascally guide misled us. We were going to Kulak, in + the Maharajah's territory. We will turn back quietly to the Maharajah's + land if the priest-sahib will allow us to camp out for the night here.” + </p> + <p> + I glanced at Hilda and Lady Meadowcroft. I must say their bearing under + these trying circumstances was thoroughly worthy of two English ladies. + They stood erect, looking as though all Tibet might come, and they would + smile at it scornfully. + </p> + <p> + The cook interpreted my remarks as well as he was able—his Tibetan + being probably about equal in quality to his English. But the chief Lama + made a reply which I could see for myself was by no means friendly. + </p> + <p> + “What is his answer?” I asked the cook, in my haughtiest voice. I am + haughty with difficulty. + </p> + <p> + Our interpreter salaamed once more, shaking in his shoes, if he wore any. + “Priest-sahib say, that all lies. That all dam-lies. You is Eulopean + missionary, very bad man; you want to go to Lhasa. But no white sahib must + go to Lhasa. Holy city, Lhasa; for Buddhists only. This is not the way to + Kulak; this not Maharajah's land. This place belong-a Dalai-Lama, head of + all Lamas; have house at Lhasa. But priest-sahib know you Eulopean + missionary, want to go Lhasa, convert Buddhists, because... Ram Das tell + him so.” + </p> + <p> + “Ram Das!” I exclaimed, thoroughly angry by this time. “The rogue! The + scoundrel! He has not only deserted us, but betrayed us as well. He has + told this lie on purpose to set the Tibetans against us. We must face the + worst now. Our one chance is, to cajole these people.” + </p> + <p> + The fat priest spoke again. “What does he say this time?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He say, Ram Das tell him all this because Ram Das good man—very + good man: Ram Das converted Buddhist. You pay Ram Das to guidee you to + Lhasa. But Ram Das good man, not want to let Eulopean see holy city; bring + you here instead; then tell priest-sahib about it.” And he chuckled + inwardly. + </p> + <p> + “What will they do to us?” Lady Meadowcroft asked, her face very white, + though her manner was more courageous than I could easily have believed of + her. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” I answered, biting my lip. “But we must not give way. We + must put a bold face upon it. Their bark, after all, may be worse than + their bite. We may still persuade them to let us go back again.” + </p> + <p> + The men in yellow robes motioned us to move on towards the village and + monastery. We were their prisoners, and it was useless to resist. So I + ordered the bearers to take up the tents and baggage. Lady Meadowcroft + resigned herself to the inevitable. We mounted the path in a long line, + the Lamas in yellow closely guarding our draggled little procession. I + tried my best to preserve my composure, and above all else not to look + dejected. + </p> + <p> + As we approached the village, with its squalid and fetid huts, we caught + the sound of bells, innumerable bells, tinkling at regular intervals. Many + people trooped out from their houses to look at us, all flat-faced, all + with oblique eyes, all stolidly, sullenly, stupidly passive. They seemed + curious as to our dress and appearance, but not apparently hostile. We + walked on to the low line of the monastery with its pyramidal roof and its + queer, flower-vase minarets. After a moment's discussion they ushered us + into the temple or chapel, which was evidently also their communal + council-room and place of deliberation. We entered, trembling. We had no + great certainty that we would ever get out of it alive again. + </p> + <p> + The temple was a large, oblong hall, with a great figure of Buddha, + cross-legged, imperturbable, enthroned in a niche at its further end, like + the apse or recess in a church in Italy. Before it stood an altar. The + Buddha sat and smiled on us with his eternal smile. A complacent deity, + carved out of white stone, and gaudily painted; a yellow robe, like the + Lamas', dangled across his shoulders. The air seemed close with incense + and also with bad ventilation. The centre of the nave, if I may so call + it, was occupied by a huge wooden cylinder, a sort of overgrown drum, + painted in bright colours, with ornamental designs and Tibetan letters. It + was much taller than a man, some nine feet high, I should say, and it + revolved above and below on an iron spindle. Looking closer, I saw it had + a crank attached to it, with a string tied to the crank. A solitary monk, + absorbed in his devotions, was pulling this string as we entered, and + making the cylinder revolve with a jerk as he pulled it. At each + revolution, a bell above rang once. The monk seemed as if his whole soul + was bound up in the huge revolving drum and the bell worked by it. + </p> + <p> + We took this all in at a glance, somewhat vaguely at first, for our lives + were at stake, and we were scarcely in a mood for ethnological + observations. But the moment Hilda saw the cylinder her eye lighted up. I + could see at once an idea had struck her. “This is a praying-wheel!” she + cried, in quite a delighted voice. “I know where I am now, Hubert—Lady + Meadowcroft—I see a way out of this! Do exactly as you see me do, + and all may yet go well. Don't show surprise at anything. I think we can + work upon these people's religious feelings.” + </p> + <p> + Without a moment's hesitation she prostrated herself thrice on the ground + before the figure of Buddha, knocking her head ostentatiously in the dust + as she did so. We followed suit instantly. Then Hilda rose and began + walking slowly round the big drum in the nave, saying aloud at each step, + in a sort of monotonous chant, like a priest intoning, the four mystic + words, “Aum, mani, padme, hum,” “Aum, mani, padme, hum,” many times over. + We repeated the sacred formula after her, as if we had always been brought + up to it. I noticed that Hilda walked the way of the sun. It is an + important point in all these mysterious, half-magical ceremonies. + </p> + <p> + At last, after about ten or twelve such rounds, she paused, with an + absorbed air of devotion, and knocked her head three times on the ground + once more, doing poojah, before the ever-smiling Buddha. + </p> + <p> + By this time, however, the lessons of St. Alphege's rectory began to recur + to Lady Meadowcroft's mind. “Oh, Miss Wade,” she murmured in an awestruck + voice, “OUGHT we to do like this? Isn't it clear idolatry?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda's common sense waved her aside at once. “Idolatry or not, it is the + only way to save our lives,” she answered, in her firmest voice. + </p> + <p> + “But—OUGHT we to save our lives? Oughtn't we to be... well, + Christian martyrs?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda was patience itself. “I think not, dear,” she replied, gently but + decisively. “You are not called upon to be a martyr. The danger of + idolatry is scarcely so great among Europeans of our time that we need + feel it a duty to protest with our lives against it. I have better uses to + which to put my life myself. I don't mind being a martyr—where a + sufficient cause demands it. But I don't think such a sacrifice is + required of us now in a Tibetan monastery. Life was not given us to waste + on gratuitous martyrdoms.” + </p> + <p> + “But... really... I'm afraid...” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be afraid of anything, dear, or you will risk all. Follow my lead; + <i>I</i> will answer for your conduct. Surely, if Naaman, in the midst of + idolaters, was permitted to bow down in the house of Rimmon, to save his + place at court, you may blamelessly bow down to save your life in a + Buddhist temple. Now, no more casuistry, but do as I tell you! 'Aum, mani, + padme, hum,' again! Once more round the drum there!” + </p> + <p> + We followed her a second time, Lady Meadowcroft giving in after a feeble + protest. The priests in yellow looked on, profoundly impressed by our + circumnavigation. It was clear they began to reconsider the question of + our nefarious designs on their holy city. + </p> + <p> + After we had finished our second tour round the drum, with the utmost + solemnity, one of the monks approached Hilda, whom he seemed to take now + for an important priestess. He said something to her in Tibetan, which, of + course, we did not understand; but, as he pointed at the same time to the + brother on the floor who was turning the wheel, Hilda nodded acquiescence. + “If you wish it,” she said in English—and he appeared to comprehend. + “He wants to know whether I would like to take a turn at the cylinder.” + </p> + <p> + She knelt down in front of it, before the little stool where the brother + in yellow had been kneeling till that moment, and took the string in her + hand, as if she were well accustomed to it. I could see that the abbot + gave the cylinder a surreptitious push with his left hand, before she + began, so as to make it revolve in the opposite direction from that in + which the monk had just been moving it. This was obviously to try her. But + Hilda let the string drop, with a little cry of horror. That was the wrong + way round—the unlucky, uncanonical direction; the evil way, + widdershins, the opposite of sunwise. With an awed air she stopped short, + repeated once more the four mystic words, or mantra, and bowed thrice with + well-assumed reverence to the Buddha. Then she set the cylinder turning of + her own accord, with her right hand, in the propitious direction, and sent + it round seven times with the utmost gravity. + </p> + <p> + At this point, encouraged by Hilda's example, I too became possessed of a + brilliant inspiration. I opened my purse and took out of it four brand-new + silver rupees of the Indian coinage. They were very handsome and shiny + coins, each impressed with an excellent design of the head of the Queen as + Empress of India. Holding them up before me, I approached the Buddha, and + laid the four in a row submissively at his feet, uttering at the same time + an appropriate formula. But as I did not know the proper mantra for use + upon such an occasion, I supplied one from memory, saying, in a hushed + voice, “Hokey—pokey—winky—wum,” as I laid each one + before the benignly-smiling statue. I have no doubt from their faces the + priests imagined I was uttering a most powerful spell or prayer in my own + language. + </p> + <p> + As soon as I retreated, with my face towards the image, the chief Lama + glided up and examined the coins carefully. It was clear he had never seen + anything of the sort before, for he gazed at them for some minutes, and + then showed them round to his monks with an air of deep reverence. I do + not doubt he took the image of her gracious Majesty for a very mighty and + potent goddess. As soon as all had inspected them, with many cries of + admiration, he opened a little secret drawer or relic-holder in the + pedestal of the statue, and deposited them in it with a muttered prayer, + as precious offerings from a European Buddhist. + </p> + <p> + By this time, we could easily see we were beginning to produce a most + favourable impression. Hilda's study of Buddhism had stood us in good + stead. The chief Lama or abbot motioned to us to be seated, in a much + politer mood; after which he and his principal monks held a long and + animated conversation together. I gathered from their looks and gestures + that the head Lama inclined to regard us as orthodox Buddhists, but that + some of his followers had grave doubts of their own as to the depth and + reality of our religious convictions. + </p> + <p> + While they debated and hesitated, Hilda had another splendid idea. She + undid her portfolio, and took out of it the photographs of ancient + Buddhist topes and temples which she had taken in India. These she + produced triumphantly. At once the priests and monks crowded round us to + look at them. In a moment, when they recognised the meaning of the + pictures, their excitement grew quite intense. The photographs were passed + round from hand to hand, amid loud exclamations of joy and surprise. One + brother would point out with astonishment to another some familiar symbol + or some ancient text; two or three of them, in their devout enthusiasm, + fell down on their knees and kissed the pictures. + </p> + <p> + We had played a trump card! The monks could see for themselves by this + time that we were deeply interested in Buddhism. Now, minds of that + calibre never understand a disinterested interest; the moment they saw we + were collectors of Buddhist pictures, they jumped at once to the + conclusion that we must also, of course, be devout believers. So far did + they carry their sense of fraternity, indeed, that they insisted upon + embracing us. That was a hard trial to Lady Meadowcroft, for the brethren + were not conspicuous for personal cleanliness. She suspected germs, and + she dreaded typhoid far more than she dreaded the Tibetan cutthroat. + </p> + <p> + The brethren asked, through the medium of our interpreter, the cook, where + these pictures had been made. We explained as well as we could by means of + the same mouthpiece, a very earthen vessel, that they came from ancient + Buddhist buildings in India. This delighted them still more, though I know + not in what form our Ghoorka retainer may have conveyed the information. + At any rate, they insisted on embracing us again; after which the chief + Lama said something very solemnly to our amateur interpreter. + </p> + <p> + The cook interpreted. “Priest-sahib say, he too got very sacred thing, + come from India. Sacred Buddhist poojah-thing. Go to show it to you.” + </p> + <p> + We waited, breathless. The chief Lama approached the altar before the + recess, in front of the great cross-legged, vapidly smiling Buddha. He + bowed himself to the ground three times over, as well as his portly frame + would permit him, knocking his forehead against the floor, just as Hilda + had done; then he proceeded, almost awestruck, to take from the altar an + object wrapped round with gold brocade, and very carefully guarded. Two + acolytes accompanied him. In the most reverent way, he slowly unwound the + folds of gold cloth, and released from its hiding-place the highly sacred + deposit. He held it up before our eyes with an air of triumph. It was an + English bottle! + </p> + <p> + The label on it shone with gold and bright colours. I could see it was + figured. The figure represented a cat, squatting on its haunches. The + sacred inscription ran, in our own tongue, “Old Tom Gin, Unsweetened.” + </p> + <p> + The monks bowed their heads in profound silence as the sacred thing was + produced. I caught Hilda's eye. “For Heaven's sake,” I murmured low, + “don't either of you laugh! If you do, it's all up with us.” + </p> + <p> + They kept their countenances with admirable decorum. + </p> + <p> + Another idea struck me. “Tell them,” I said to the cook, “that we, too, + have a similar and very powerful god, but much more lively.” He + interpreted my words to them. + </p> + <p> + Then I opened our stores, and drew out with a flourish—our last + remaining bottle of Simla soda-water. + </p> + <p> + Very solemnly and seriously I unwired the cork, as if performing an almost + sacrosanct ceremony. The monks crowded round, with the deepest curiosity. + I held the cork down for a second with my thumb, while I uttered once + more, in my most awesome tone, the mystic words: “Hokey—pokey—winky—wum!” + then I let it fly suddenly. The soda-water was well up. The cork bounded + to the ceiling; the contents of the bottle spurted out over the place in + the most impressive fashion. + </p> + <p> + For a minute the Lamas drew back alarmed. The thing seemed almost + devilish. Then slowly, reassured by our composure, they crept back and + looked. With a glance of inquiry at the abbot, I took out my pocket + corkscrew, and drew the cork of the gin-bottle, which had never been + opened. I signed for a cup. They brought me one, reverently. I poured out + a little gin, to which I added some soda-water, and drank first of it + myself, to show them it was not poison. After that, I handed it to the + chief Lama, who sipped at it, sipped again, and emptied the cup at the + third trial. Evidently the sacred drink was very much to his taste, for he + smacked his lips after it, and turned with exclamations of surprised + delight to his inquisitive companions. + </p> + <p> + The rest of the soda-water, duly mixed with gin, soon went the round of + the expectant monks. It was greatly approved of. Unhappily, there was not + quite enough soda water to supply a drink for all of them; but those who + tasted it were deeply impressed. I could see that they took the bite of + carbonic-acid gas for evidence of a most powerful and present deity. + </p> + <p> + That settled our position. We were instantly regarded, not only as + Buddhists, but as mighty magicians from a far country. The monks made + haste to show us rooms destined for our use in the monastery. They were + not unbearably filthy, and we had our own bedding. We had to spend the + night there, that was certain. We had, at least, escaped the worst and + most pressing danger. I may add that I believe our cook to have been a + most arrant liar—which was a lucky circumstance. Once the wretched + creature saw the tide turn, I have reason to infer that he supported our + cause by telling the chief Lama the most incredible stories about our + holiness and power. At any rate, it is certain that we were regarded with + the utmost respect, and treated thenceforth with the affectionate + deference due to acknowledged and certified sainthood. + </p> + <p> + It began to strike us now, however, that we had almost overshot the mark + in this matter of sanctity. We had made ourselves quite too holy. The + monks, who were eager at first to cut our throats, thought so much of us + now that we grew a little anxious as to whether they would not wish to + keep such devout souls in their midst for ever. As a matter of fact, we + spent a whole week against our wills in the monastery, being very well fed + and treated meanwhile, yet virtually captives. It was the camera that did + it. The Lamas had never seen any photographs before. They asked how these + miraculous pictures were produced; and Hilda, to keep up the good + impression, showed them how she operated. When a full-length portrait of + the chief Lama, in his sacrificial robes, was actually printed off and + exhibited before their eyes, their delight knew no bounds. The picture was + handed about among the astonished brethren, and received with loud shouts + of joy and wonder. Nothing would satisfy them then but that we must + photograph every individual monk in the place. Even the Buddha himself, + cross-legged and imperturbable, had to sit for his portrait. As he was + used to sitting—never, indeed, having done anything else—he + came out admirably. + </p> + <p> + Day after day passed; suns rose and suns set; and it was clear that the + monks did not mean to let us leave their precincts in a hurry. Lady + Meadowcroft, having recovered by this time from her first fright, began to + grow bored. The Buddhists' ritual ceased to interest her. To vary the + monotony, I hit upon an expedient for killing time till our too pressing + hosts saw fit to let us depart. They were fond of religious processions of + the most protracted sort—dances before the altar, with animal masks + or heads, and other weird ceremonial orgies. Hilda, who had read herself + up in Buddhist ideas, assured me that all these things were done in order + to heap up Karma. + </p> + <p> + “What is Karma?” I asked, listlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Karma is good works, or merit. The more praying-wheels you turn, the more + bells you ring, the greater the merit. One of the monks is always at work + turning the big wheel that moves the bell, so as to heap up merit night + and day for the monastery.” + </p> + <p> + This set me thinking. I soon discovered that, no matter how the wheel is + turned, the Karma or merit is equal. It is the turning it that counts, not + the personal exertion. There were wheels and bells in convenient + situations all over the village, and whoever passed one gave it a twist as + he went by, thus piling up Karma for all the inhabitants. Reflecting upon + these facts, I was seized with an idea. I got Hilda to take instantaneous + photographs of all the monks during a sacred procession, at rapid + intervals. In that sunny climate we had no difficulty at all in printing + off from the plates as soon as developed. Then I took a small wheel, about + the size of an oyster-barrel—the monks had dozens of them—and + pasted the photographs inside in successive order, like what is called a + zoetrope, or wheel of life. By cutting holes in the side, and arranging a + mirror from Lady Meadowcroft's dressing-bag, I completed my machine, so + that, when it was turned round rapidly, one saw the procession actually + taking place as if the figures were moving. The thing, in short, made a + living picture like a cinematograph. A mountain stream ran past the + monastery, and supplied it with water. I had a second inspiration. I was + always mechanical. I fixed a water-wheel in the stream, where it made a + petty cataract, and connected it by means of a small crank with the barrel + of photographs. My zoetrope thus worked off itself, and piled up Karma for + all the village whether anyone happened to be looking at it or not. + </p> + <p> + The monks, who were really excellent fellows when not engaged in cutting + throats in the interest of the faith, regarded this device as a great and + glorious religious invention. They went down on their knees to it, and + were profoundly respectful. They also bowed to me so deeply, when I first + exhibited it, that I began to be puffed up with spiritual pride. Lady + Meadowcroft recalled me to my better self by murmuring, with a sigh: “I + suppose we really can't draw a line now; but it DOES seem to me like + encouraging idolatry!” + </p> + <p> + “Purely mechanical encouragement,” I answered, gazing at my handicraft + with an inventor's pardonable pride. “You see, it is the turning itself + that does good, not any prayers attached to it. I divert the idolatry from + human worshippers to an unconscious stream—which must surely be + meritorious.” Then I thought of the mystic sentence, “Aum, mani, padme, + hum.” “What a pity it is,” I cried, “I couldn't make them a phonograph to + repeat their mantra! If I could, they might fulfil all their religious + duties together by machinery!” + </p> + <p> + Hilda reflected a second. “There is a great future,” she said at last, + “for the man who first introduces smoke-jacks into Tibet! Every household + will buy one, as an automatic means of acquiring Karma.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't publish that idea in England!” I exclaimed, hastily—“if ever + we get there. As sure as you do, somebody will see in it an opening for + British trade; and we shall spend twenty millions on conquering Tibet, in + the interests of civilisation and a smoke-jack syndicate.” + </p> + <p> + How long we might have stopped at the monastery I cannot say, had it not + been for the intervention of an unexpected episode which occurred just a + week after our first arrival. We were comfortable enough in a rough way, + with our Ghoorka cook to prepare our food for us, and our bearers to wait; + but to the end I never felt quite sure of our hosts, who, after all, were + entertaining us under false pretences. We had told them, truly enough, + that Buddhist missionaries had now penetrated to England; and though they + had not the slightest conception where England might be, and knew not the + name of Madame Blavatsky, this news interested them. Regarding us as + promising neophytes, they were anxious now that we should go on to Lhasa, + in order to receive full instruction in the faith from the chief + fountainhead, the Grand Lama in person. To this we demurred. Mr. Landor's + experiences did not encourage us to follow his lead. The monks, for their + part, could not understand our reluctance. They thought that every + well-intentioned convert must wish to make the pilgrimage to Lhasa, the + Mecca of their creed. Our hesitation threw some doubt on the reality of + our conversion. A proselyte, above all men, should never be lukewarm. They + expected us to embrace the opportunity with fervour. We might be massacred + on the way, to be sure; but what did that matter? We should be dying for + the faith, and ought to be charmed at so splendid a prospect. + </p> + <p> + On the day-week after our arrival time chief Lama came to me at nightfall. + His face was serious. He spoke to me through our accredited interpreter, + the cook. “Priest-sahib say, very important; the sahib and mem-sahibs must + go away from here before sun get up to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” I asked, as astonished as I was pleased. + </p> + <p> + “Priest-sahib say, he like you very much; oh, very, very much; no want to + see village people kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “Kill us! But I thought they believed we were saints!” + </p> + <p> + “Priest say, that just it; too much saint altogether. People hereabout all + telling that the sahib and the mem-sahibs very great saints; much holy, + like Buddha. Make picture; work miracles. People think, if them kill you, + and have your tomb here, very holy place; very great Karma; very good for + trade; plenty Tibetan man hear you holy men, come here on pilgrimage. + Pilgrimage make fair, make market, very good for village. So people want + to kill you, build shrine over your body.” + </p> + <p> + This was a view of the advantages of sanctity which had never before + struck me. Now, I had not been eager even for the distinction of being a + Christian martyr; as to being a Buddhist martyr, that was quite out of the + question. “Then what does the Lama advise us to do?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Priest-sahib say he love you; no want to see village people kill you. He + give you guide—very good guide—know mountains well; take you + back straight to Maharajah's country.” + </p> + <p> + “Not Ram Das?” I asked, suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “No, not Ram Das. Very good man—Tibetan.” + </p> + <p> + I saw at once this was a genuine crisis. All was hastily arranged. I went + in and told Hilda and Lady Meadowcroft. Our spoilt child cried a little, + of course, at the idea of being enshrined; but on the whole behaved + admirably. At early dawn next morning, before the village was awake, we + crept with stealthy steps out of the monastery, whose inmates were + friendly. Our new guide accompanied us. We avoided the village, on whose + outskirts the lamasery lay, and made straight for the valley. By six + o'clock, we were well out of sight of the clustered houses and the + pyramidal spires. But I did not breathe freely till late in the afternoon, + when we found ourselves once more under British protection in the first + hamlet of the Maharajah's territory. + </p> + <p> + As for that scoundrel, Ram Das, we heard nothing more of him. He + disappeared into space from the moment he deserted us at the door of the + trap into which he had led us. The chief Lama told me he had gone back at + once by another route to his own country. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE OFFICER WHO UNDERSTOOD PERFECTLY + </h3> + <p> + After our fortunate escape from the clutches of our too-admiring Tibetan + hosts, we wound our way slowly back through the Maharajah's territory + towards Sir Ivor's headquarters. On the third day out from the lamasery we + camped in a romantic Himalayan valley—a narrow, green glen, with a + brawling stream running in white cataracts and rapids down its midst. We + were able to breathe freely now; we could enjoy the great tapering deodars + that rose in ranks on the hillsides, the snow-clad needles of ramping rock + that bounded the view to north and south, the feathery bamboo-jungle that + fringed and half-obscured the mountain torrent, whose cool music—alas, + fallaciously cool—was borne to us through the dense screen of waving + foliage. Lady Meadowcroft was so delighted at having got clear away from + those murderous and saintly Tibetans that for a while she almost forgot to + grumble. She even condescended to admire the deep-cleft ravine in which we + bivouacked for the night, and to admit that the orchids which hung from + the tall trees were as fine as any at her florist's in Piccadilly. “Though + how they can have got them out here already, in this outlandish place—the + most fashionable kinds—when we in England have to grow them with + such care in expensive hot-houses,” she said, “really passes my + comprehension.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed to think that orchids originated in Covent Garden. + </p> + <p> + Early next morning I was engaged with one of my native men in lighting the + fire to boil our kettle—for in spite of all misfortunes we still + made tea with creditable punctuality—when a tall and good-looking + Nepaulese approached us from the hills, with cat-like tread, and stood + before me in an attitude of profound supplication. He was a well-dressed + young man, like a superior native servant; his face was broad and flat, + but kindly and good-humoured. He salaamed many times, but still said + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him what he wants,” I cried, turning to our fair-weather friend, the + cook. + </p> + <p> + The deferential Nepaulese did not wait to be asked. “Salaam, sahib,” he + said, bowing again very low till his forehead almost touched the ground. + “You are Eulopean doctor, sahib?” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” I answered, taken aback at being thus recognised in the forests of + Nepaul. “But how in wonder did you come to know it?” + </p> + <p> + “You camp near here when you pass dis way before, and you doctor little + native girl, who got sore eyes. All de country here tell you is very great + physician. So I come and to see if you will turn aside to my village to + help us.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you learn English?” I exclaimed, more and more astonished. + </p> + <p> + “I is servant one time at British Lesident's at de Maharajah's city. Pick + up English dere. Also pick up plenty lupee. Velly good business at British + Lesident's. Now gone back home to my own village, letired gentleman.” And + he drew himself up with conscious dignity. + </p> + <p> + I surveyed the retired gentleman from head to foot. He had an air of + distinction, which not even his bare toes could altogether mar. He was + evidently a person of local importance. “And what did you want me to visit + your village for?” I inquired, dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “White traveller sahib ill dere, sir. Vely ill; got plague. Great + first-class sahib, all same like Governor. Ill, fit to die; send me out + all times to try find Eulopean doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Plague?” I repeated, startled. He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, plague; all same like dem hab him so bad down Bombay way.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know his name?” I asked; for though one does not like to desert a + fellow-creature in distress, I did not care to turn aside from my road on + such an errand, with Hilda and Lady Meadowcroft, unless for some amply + sufficient reason. + </p> + <p> + The retired gentleman shook his head in the most emphatic fashion. “How me + know?” he answered, opening the palms of his hands as if to show he had + nothing concealed in them. “Forget Eulopean name all times so easily. And + traveller sahib name very hard to lemember. Not got English name. Him + Eulopean foleigner.” + </p> + <p> + “A European foreigner!” I repeated. “And you say he is seriously ill? + Plague is no trifle. Well, wait a minute; I'll see what the ladies say + about it. How far off is your village?” + </p> + <p> + He pointed with his hand, somewhat vaguely, to the hillside. “Two hours' + walk,” he answered, with the mountaineer's habit of reckoning distance by + time, which extends, under the like circumstances, the whole world over. + </p> + <p> + I went back to the tents, and consulted Hilda and Lady Meadowcroft. Our + spoilt child pouted, and was utterly averse to any detour of any sort. + “Let's get back straight to Ivor,” she said, petulantly. “I've had enough + of camping out. It's all very well in its way for a week but when they + begin to talk about cutting your throat and all that, it ceases to be a + joke and becomes a wee bit uncomfortable. I want my feather bed. I object + to their villages.” + </p> + <p> + “But consider, dear,” Hilda said, gently. “This traveller is ill, all + alone in a strange land. How can Hubert desert him? It is a doctor's duty + to do what he can to alleviate pain and to cure the sick. What would we + have thought ourselves, when we were at the lamasery, if a body of + European travellers had known we were there, imprisoned and in danger of + our lives, and had passed by on the other side without attempting to + rescue us?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Meadowcroft knit her forehead. “That was us,” she said, with an + impatient nod, after a pause—“and this is another person. You can't + turn aside for everybody who's ill in all Nepaul. And plague, too!—so + horrid! Besides, how do we know this isn't another plan of these hateful + people to lead us into danger?” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Meadowcroft is quite right,” I said, hastily. “I never thought about + that. There may be no plague, no patient at all. I will go up with this + man alone, Hilda, and find out the truth. It will only take me five hours + at most. By noon I shall be back with you.” + </p> + <p> + “What? And leave us here unprotected among the wild beasts and the + savages?” Lady Meadowcroft cried, horrified. “In the midst of the forest! + Dr. Cumberledge, how can you?” + </p> + <p> + “You are NOT unprotected,” I answered, soothing her. “You have Hilda with + you. She is worth ten men. And besides, our Nepaulese are fairly + trustworthy.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda bore me out in my resolve. She was too much of a nurse, and had + imbibed too much of the true medical sentiment, to let me desert a man in + peril of his life in a tropical jungle. So, in spite of Lady Meadowcroft, + I was soon winding my way up a steep mountain track, overgrown with + creeping Indian weeds, on my road to the still problematical village + graced by the residence of the retired gentleman. + </p> + <p> + After two hours' hard climbing we reached it at last. The retired + gentleman led the way to a house in a street of the little wooden hamlet. + The door was low; I had to stoop to enter it. I saw in a moment this was + indeed no trick. On a native bed, in a corner of the one room, a man lay + desperately ill; a European, with white hair and with a skin well bronzed + by exposure to the tropics. Ominous dark spots beneath the epidermis + showed the nature of the disease. He tossed restlessly as he lay, but did + not raise his fevered head or look at my conductor. “Well, any news of Ram + Das?” he asked at last, in a parched and feeble voice. Parched and feeble + as it was, I recognised it instantly. The man on the bed was Sebastian—no + other! + </p> + <p> + “No news of Lam Das,” the retired gentleman replied, with an unexpected + display of womanly tenderness. “Lam Das clean gone; not come any more. But + I bling you back Eulopean doctor, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian did not look up from his bed even then. I could see he was more + anxious about a message from his scout than about his own condition. “The + rascal!” he moaned, with his eyes closed tight. “The rascal! he has + betrayed me.” And he tossed uneasily. + </p> + <p> + I looked at him and said nothing. Then I seated myself on a low stool by + the bedside and took his hand in mine to feel his pulse. The wrist was + thin and wasted. The face, too, I noticed, had fallen away greatly. It was + clear that the malignant fever which accompanies the disease had wreaked + its worst on him. So weak and ill was he, indeed, that he let me hold his + hand, with my fingers on his pulse, for half a minute or more without ever + opening his eyes or displaying the slightest curiosity at my presence. One + might have thought that European doctors abounded in Nepaul, and that I + had been attending him for a week, with “the mixture as before” at every + visit. + </p> + <p> + “Your pulse is weak and very rapid,” I said slowly, in a professional + tone. “You seem to me to have fallen into a perilous condition.” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of my voice, he gave a sudden start. Yet even so, for a + second, he did not open his eyes. The revelation of my presence seemed to + come upon him as in a dream. “Like Cumberledge's,” he muttered to himself, + gasping. “Exactly like Cumberledge's.... But Cumberledge is dead... I must + be delirious.... If I didn't KNOW to the contrary, I could have sworn it + was Cumberledge's!” + </p> + <p> + I spoke again, bending over him. “How long have the glandular swellings + been present, Professor?” I asked, with quiet deliberativeness. + </p> + <p> + This time he opened his eyes sharply, and looked up in my face. He + swallowed a great gulp of surprise. His breath came and went. He raised + himself on his elbows and stared at me with a fixed stare. “Cumberledge!” + he cried; “Cumberledge! Come back to life, then! They told me you were + dead! And here you are, Cumberledge!” + </p> + <p> + “WHO told you I was dead?” I asked, sternly. + </p> + <p> + He stared at me, still in a dazed way. He was more than half comatose. + “Your guide, Ram Das,” he answered at last, half incoherently. “He came + back by himself. Came back without you. He swore to me he had seen all + your throats cut in Tibet. He alone had escaped. The Buddhists had + massacred you.” + </p> + <p> + “He told you a lie,” I said, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so. I thought so. And I sent him back for confirmatory + evidence. But the rogue has never brought it.” He let his head drop on his + rude pillow heavily. “Never, never brought it!” + </p> + <p> + I gazed at him, full of horror. The man was too ill to hear me, too ill to + reason, too ill to recognise the meaning of his own words, almost. + Otherwise, perhaps, he would hardly have expressed himself quite so + frankly. Though to be sure he had said nothing to criminate himself in any + way; his action might have been due to anxiety for our safety. + </p> + <p> + I fixed my glance on him long and dubiously. What ought I to do next? As + for Sebastian, he lay with his eyes closed, half oblivious of my presence. + The fever had gripped him hard. He shivered, and looked helpless as a + child. In such circumstances, the instincts of my profession rose + imperative within me. I could not nurse a case properly in this wretched + hut. The one thing to be done was to carry the patient down to our camp in + the valley. There, at least, we had air and pure running water. + </p> + <p> + I asked a few questions from the retired gentleman as to the possibility + of obtaining sufficient bearers in the village. As I supposed, any number + were forthcoming immediately. Your Nepaulese is by nature a beast of + burden; he can carry anything up and down the mountains, and spends his + life in the act of carrying. + </p> + <p> + I pulled out my pencil, tore a leaf from my note-book, and scribbled a + hasty note to Hilda: “The invalid is—whom do you think?—Sebastian! + He is dangerously ill with some malignant fever. I am bringing him down + into camp to nurse. Get everything ready for him.” Then I handed it over + to a messenger, found for me by the retired gentleman, to carry to Hilda. + My host himself I could not spare, as he was my only interpreter. + </p> + <p> + In a couple of hours we had improvised a rough, woven-grass hammock as an + ambulance couch, had engaged our bearers, and had got Sebastian under way + for the camp by the river. + </p> + <p> + When I arrived at our tents, I found Hilda had prepared everything for our + patient with her usual cleverness. Not only had she got a bed ready for + Sebastian, who was now almost insensible, but she had even cooked some + arrowroot from our stores beforehand, so that he might have a little food, + with a dash of brandy in it, to recover him after the fatigue of the + journey down the mountain. By the time we had laid him out on a mattress + in a cool tent, with the fresh air blowing about him, and had made him eat + the meal prepared for him, he really began to look comparatively + comfortable. + </p> + <p> + Lady Meadowcroft was now our chief trouble. We did not dare to tell her it + was really plague; but she had got near enough back to civilisation to + have recovered her faculty for profuse grumbling; and the idea of the + delay that Sebastian would cause us drove her wild with annoyance. “Only + two days off from Ivor,” she cried, “and that comfortable bungalow! And + now to think we must stop here in the woods a week or ten days for this + horrid old Professor! Why can't he get worse at once and die like a + gentleman? But, there! with YOU to nurse him, Hilda, he'll never get + worse. He couldn't die if he tried. He'll linger on and on for weeks and + weeks through a beastly convalescence!” + </p> + <p> + “Hubert,” Hilda said to me, when we were alone once more; “we mustn't keep + her here. She will be a hindrance, not a help. One way or another we must + manage to get rid of her.” + </p> + <p> + “How can we?” I asked. “We can't turn her loose upon the mountain roads + with a Nepaulese escort. She isn't fit for it. She would be frantic with + terror.” + </p> + <p> + “I've thought of that, and I see only one thing possible. I must go on + with her myself as fast as we can push to Sir Ivor's place, and then + return to help you nurse the Professor.” + </p> + <p> + I saw she was right. It was the sole plan open to us. And I had no fear of + letting Hilda go off alone with Lady Meadowcroft and the bearers. She was + a host in herself, and could manage a party of native servants at least as + well as I could. + </p> + <p> + So Hilda went, and came back again. Meanwhile, I took charge of the + nursing of Sebastian. Fortunately, I had brought with me a good stock of + jungle-medicines in my little travelling-case, including plenty of + quinine; and under my careful treatment the Professor passed the crisis + and began to mend slowly. The first question he asked me when he felt + himself able to talk once more was, “Nurse Wade—what has become of + her?”—for he had not yet seen her. I feared the shock for him. + </p> + <p> + “She is here with me,” I answered, in a very measured voice. “She is + waiting to be allowed to come and help me in taking care of you.” + </p> + <p> + He shuddered and turned away. His face buried itself in the pillow. I + could see some twinge of remorse had seized upon him. At last he spoke. + “Cumberledge,” he said, in a very low and almost frightened tone, “don't + let her come near me! I can't bear it. I can't bear it.” + </p> + <p> + Ill as he was, I did not mean to let him think I was ignorant of his + motive. “You can't bear a woman whose life you have attempted,” I said, in + my coldest and most deliberate way, “to have a hand in nursing you! You + can't bear to let her heap coals of fire on your head! In that you are + right. But, remember, you have attempted MY life too; you have twice done + your best to get me murdered.” + </p> + <p> + He did not pretend to deny it. He was too weak for subterfuges. He only + writhed as he lay. “You are a man,” he said, shortly, “and she is a woman. + That is all the difference.” Then he paused for a minute or two. “Don't + let her come near me,” he moaned once more, in a piteous voice. “Don't let + her come near me!” + </p> + <p> + “I will not,” I answered. “She shall not come near you. I spare you that. + But you will have to eat the food she prepares; and you know SHE will not + poison you. You will have to be tended by the servants she chooses; and + you know THEY will not murder you. She can heap coals of fire on your head + without coming into your tent. Consider that you sought to take her life—and + she seeks to save yours! She is as anxious to keep you alive as you are + anxious to kill her.” + </p> + <p> + He lay as in a reverie. His long white hair made his clear-cut, thin face + look more unearthly than ever, with the hectic flush of fever upon it. At + last he turned to me. “We each work for our own ends,” he said, in a weary + way. “We pursue our own objects. It suits ME to get rid of HER: it suits + HER to keep ME alive. I am no good to her dead; living, she expects to + wring a confession out of me. But she shall not have it. Tenacity of + purpose is the one thing I admire in life. She has the tenacity of purpose—and + so have I. Cumberledge, don't you see it is a mere duel of endurance + between us?” + </p> + <p> + “And may the just side win,” I answered, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + It was several days later before he spoke to me of it again. Hilda had + brought some food to the door of the tent and passed it in to me for our + patient. “How is he now?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian overheard her voice, and, cowering within himself, still managed + to answer: “Better, getting better. I shall soon be well now. You have + carried your point. You have cured your enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God for that!” Hilda said, and glided away silently. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian ate his cup of arrowroot in silence; then he looked at me with + wistful, musing eyes. “Cumberledge,” he murmured at last; “after all, I + can't help admiring that woman. She is the only person who has ever + checkmated me. She checkmates me every time. Steadfastness is what I love. + Her steadfastness of purpose and her determination move me.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish they would move you to tell the truth,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + He mused again. “To tell the truth!” he muttered, moving his head up and + down. “I have lived for science. Shall I wreck all now? There are truths + which it is better to hide than to proclaim. Uncomfortable truths—truths + that never should have been—truths which help to make greater truths + incredible. But, all the same, I cannot help admiring that woman. She has + Yorke-Bannerman's intellect, with a great deal more than Yorke-Bannerman's + force of will. Such firmness! such energy! such resolute patience! She is + a wonderful creature. I can't help admiring her!” + </p> + <p> + I said no more to him just then. I thought it better to let nascent + remorse and nascent admiration work out their own natural effects + unimpeded. For I could see our enemy was beginning to feel some sting of + remorse. Some men are below it. Sebastian thought himself above it. I felt + sure he was mistaken. + </p> + <p> + Yet even in the midst of these personal preoccupations, I saw that our + great teacher was still, as ever, the pure man of science. He noted every + symptom and every change of the disease with professional accuracy. He + observed his own case, whenever his mind was clear enough, as impartially + as he would have observed any outside patient's. “This is a rare chance, + Cumberledge,” he whispered to me once, in an interval of delirium. “So few + Europeans have ever had the complaint, and probably none who were + competent to describe the specific subjective and psychological symptoms. + The delusions one gets as one sinks into the coma, for example, are of + quite a peculiar type—delusions of wealth and of absolute power, + most exhilarating and magnificent. I think myself a millionaire or a Prime + Minister. Be sure you make a note of that—in case I die. If I + recover, of course I can write an exhaustive monograph on the whole + history of the disease in the British Medical Journal. But if I die, the + task of chronicling these interesting observations will devolve upon you. + A most exceptional chance! You are much to be congratulated.” + </p> + <p> + “You MUST not die, Professor,” I cried, thinking more, I will confess, of + Hilda Wade than of himself. “You must live... to report this case for + science.” I used what I thought the strongest lever I knew for him. + </p> + <p> + He closed his eyes dreamily. “For science! Yes, for science! There you + strike the right chord! What have I not dared and done for science? But, + in case I die, Cumberledge, be sure you collect the notes I took as I was + sickening—they are most important for the history and etiology of + the disease. I made them hourly. And don't forget the main points to be + observed as I am dying. You know what they are. This is a rare, rare + chance! I congratulate you on being the man who has the first opportunity + ever afforded us of questioning an intelligent European case, a case where + the patient is fully capable of describing with accuracy his symptoms and + his sensations in medical phraseology.” + </p> + <p> + He did not die, however. In about another week he was well enough to move. + We carried him down to Mozufferpoor, the first large town in the plains + thereabouts, and handed him over for the stage of convalescence to the + care of the able and efficient station doctor, to whom my thanks are due + for much courteous assistance. + </p> + <p> + “And now, what do you mean to do?” I asked Hilda, when our patient was + placed in other hands, and all was over. + </p> + <p> + She answered me without one second's hesitation: “Go straight to Bombay, + and wait there till Sebastian takes passage for England.” + </p> + <p> + “He will go home, you think, as soon as he is well enough?” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly. He has now nothing more to stop in India for.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not as much as ever?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me curiously. “It is so hard to explain,” she replied, after + a moment's pause, during which she had been drumming her little forefinger + on the table. “I feel it rather than reason it. But don't you see that a + certain change has lately come over Sebastian's attitude? He no longer + desires to follow me; he wants to avoid me. That is why I wish more than + ever to dog his steps. I feel the beginning of the end has come. I am + gaining my point. Sebastian is wavering.” + </p> + <p> + “Then when he engages a berth, you propose to go by the same steamer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It makes all the difference. When he tries to follow me, he is + dangerous; when he tries to avoid me, it becomes my work in life to follow + him. I must keep him in sight every minute now. I must quicken his + conscience. I must make him FEEL his own desperate wickedness. He is + afraid to face me: that means remorse. The more I compel him to face me, + the more the remorse is sure to deepen.” + </p> + <p> + I saw she was right. We took the train to Bombay. I found rooms at the + hospitable club, by a member's invitation, while Hilda went to stop with + some friends of Lady Meadowcroft's on the Malabar Hill. We waited for + Sebastian to come down from the interior and take his passage. Hilda, with + her intuitive certainty, felt sure he would come. + </p> + <p> + A steamer, two steamers, three steamers, sailed, and still no Sebastian. I + began to think he must have made up his mind to go back some other way. + But Hilda was confident, so I waited patiently. At last one morning I + dropped in, as I had often done before, at the office of one of the chief + steamship companies. It was the very morning when a packet was to sail. + “Can I see the list of passengers on the Vindhya?” I asked of the clerk, a + sandy-haired Englishman, tall, thin, and sallow. + </p> + <p> + The clerk produced it. + </p> + <p> + I scanned it in haste. To my surprise and delight, a pencilled entry + half-way down the list gave the name, “Professor Sebastian.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Sebastian is going by this steamer?” I murmured, looking up. + </p> + <p> + The sandy-haired clerk hummed and hesitated. “Well, I believe he's going, + sir,” he answered at last; “but it's a bit uncertain. He's a fidgety man, + the Professor. He came down here this morning and asked to see the list, + the same as you have done. Then he engaged a berth provisionally—'mind, + provisionally,' he said—that's why his name is only put in on the + list in pencil. I take it he's waiting to know whether a party of friends + he wishes to meet are going also.” + </p> + <p> + “Or wishes to avoid,” I thought to myself, inwardly; but I did not say so. + I asked instead, “Is he coming again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think so: at 5.30.” + </p> + <p> + “And she sails at seven?” + </p> + <p> + “At seven, punctually. Passengers must be aboard by half-past six at + latest.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” I answered, making up my mind promptly. “I only called to + know the Professor's movements. Don't mention to him that I came. I may + look in again myself an hour or two later.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't want a passage, sir? You may be the friend he's expecting.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't want a passage—not at present certainly.” Then I + ventured on a bold stroke. “Look here,” I said, leaning across towards + him, and assuming a confidential tone: “I am a private detective”—which + was perfectly true in essence—“and I'm dogging the Professor, who, + for all his eminence, is gravely suspected of a great crime. If you will + help me, I will make it worth your while. Let us understand one another. I + offer you a five-pound note to say nothing of all this to him.” + </p> + <p> + The sallow clerk's fishy eye glistened. “You can depend upon me,” he + answered, with an acquiescent nod. I judged that he did not often get the + chance of earning some eighty rupees so easily. + </p> + <p> + I scribbled a hasty note and sent it round to Hilda: “Pack your boxes at + once, and hold yourself in readiness to embark on the Vindhya at six + o'clock precisely.” Then I put my own things straight; and waited at the + club till a quarter to six. At that time I strolled on unconcernedly into + the office. A cab outside held Hilda and our luggage. I had arranged it + all meanwhile by letter. + </p> + <p> + “Professor Sebastian been here again?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; he's been here; and he looked over the list again; and he's + taken his passage. But he muttered something about eavesdroppers, and said + that if he wasn't satisfied when he got on board, he would return at once + and ask for a cabin in exchange by the next steamer.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do,” I answered, slipping the promised five-pound note into the + clerk's open palm, which closed over it convulsively. “Talked about + eavesdroppers, did he? Then he knows he's been shadowed. It may console + you to learn that you are instrumental in furthering the aims of justice + and unmasking a cruel and wicked conspiracy. Now, the next thing is this: + I want two berths at once by this very steamer—one for myself—name + of Cumberledge; one for a lady—name of Wade; and look sharp about + it.” + </p> + <p> + The sandy-haired man did look sharp; and within three minutes we were + driving off with our tickets to Prince's Dock landing-stage. + </p> + <p> + We slipped on board unobtrusively, and instantly took refuge in our + respective staterooms till the steamer was well under way, and fairly out + of sight of Kolaba Island. Only after all chance of Sebastian's avoiding + us was gone for ever did we venture up on deck, on purpose to confront + him. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those delicious balmy evenings which one gets only at sea + and in the warmer latitudes. The sky was alive with myriads of twinkling + and palpitating stars, which seemed to come and go, like sparks on a + fire-back, as one gazed upward into the vast depths and tried to place + them. They played hide-and-seek with one another and with the innumerable + meteors which shot recklessly every now and again across the field of the + firmament, leaving momentary furrows of light behind them. Beneath, the + sea sparkled almost like the sky, for every turn of the screw churned up + the scintillating phosphorescence in the water, so that countless little + jets of living fire seemed to flash and die away at the summit of every + wavelet. A tall, spare man in a picturesque cloak, and with long, lank, + white hair, leant over the taffrail, gazing at the numberless flashing + lights of the surface. As he gazed, he talked on in his clear, rapt voice + to a stranger by his side. The voice and the ring of enthusiasm were + unmistakable. “Oh, no,” he was saying, as we stole up behind him, “that + hypothesis, I venture to assert, is no longer tenable by the light of + recent researches. Death and decay have nothing to do directly with the + phosphorescence of the sea, though they have a little indirectly. The + light is due in the main to numerous minute living organisms, most of them + bacilli, on which I once made several close observations and crucial + experiments. They possess organs which may be regarded as miniature + bull's-eye lanterns. And these organs—” + </p> + <p> + “What a lovely evening, Hubert!” Hilda said to me, in an apparently + unconcerned voice, as the Professor reached this point in his exposition. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian's voice quavered and stammered for a moment. He tried just at + first to continue and complete his sentence: “And these organs,” he went + on, aimlessly, “these bull's-eyes that I spoke about, are so arranged—so + arranged—I was speaking on the subject of crustaceans, I think—crustaceans + so arranged—” then he broke down utterly and turned sharply round to + me. He did not look at Hilda—I think he did not dare; but he faced + me with his head down and his long, thin neck protruded, eyeing me from + under those overhanging, penthouse brows of his. “You sneak!” he cried, + passionately. “You sneak! You have dogged me by false pretences. You have + lied to bring this about! You have come aboard under a false name—you + and your accomplice!” + </p> + <p> + I faced him in turn, erect and unflinching. “Professor Sebastian,” I + answered, in my coldest and calmest tone, “you say what is not true. If + you consult the list of passengers by the Vindhya, now posted near the + companion-ladder, you will find the names of Hilda Wade and Hubert + Cumberledge duly entered. We took our passage AFTER you inspected the list + at the office to see whether our names were there—in order to avoid + us. But you cannot avoid us. We do not mean that you shall avoid us. We + will dog you now through life—not by lies or subterfuges, as you + say, but openly and honestly. It is YOU who need to slink and cower, not + we. The prosecutor need not descend to the sordid shifts of the criminal.” + </p> + <p> + The other passenger had sidled away quietly the moment he saw our + conversation was likely to be private; and I spoke in a low voice, though + clearly and impressively, because I did not wish for a scene. I was only + endeavouring to keep alive the slow, smouldering fire of remorse in the + man's bosom. And I saw I had touched him on a spot that hurt. Sebastian + drew himself up and answered nothing. For a minute or two he stood erect, + with folded arms, gazing moodily before him. Then he said, as if to + himself: “I owe the man my life. He nursed me through the plague. If it + had not been for that—if he had not tended me so carefully in that + valley in Nepaul—I would throw him overboard now—catch him in + my arms and throw him overboard! I would—and be hanged for it!” + </p> + <p> + He walked past us as if he saw us not, silent, erect, moody. Hilda stepped + aside and let him pass. He never even looked at her. I knew why; he dared + not. Every day now, remorse for the evil part he had played in her life, + respect for the woman who had unmasked and outwitted him, made it more and + more impossible for Sebastian to face her. During the whole of that + voyage, though he dined in the same saloon and paced the same deck, he + never spoke to her, he never so much as looked at her. Once or twice their + eyes met by accident, and Hilda stared him down; Sebastian's eyelids + dropped, and he stole away uneasily. In public, we gave no overt sign of + our differences; but it was understood on board that relations were + strained: that Professor Sebastian and Dr. Cumberledge had been working at + the same hospital in London together; and that owing to some disagreement + between them Dr. Cumberledge had resigned—which made it most awkward + for them to be travelling together by the same steamer. + </p> + <p> + We passed through the Suez Canal and down the Mediterranean. All the time, + Sebastian never again spoke to us. The passengers, indeed, held aloof from + the solitary, gloomy old man, who strode along the quarter-deck with his + long, slow stride, absorbed in his own thoughts, and intent only on + avoiding Hilda and myself. His mood was unsociable. As for Hilda, her + helpful, winning ways made her a favourite with all the women, as her + pretty face did with all the men. For the first time in his life, + Sebastian seemed to be aware that he was shunned. He retired more and more + within himself for company; his keen eye began to lose in some degree its + extraordinary fire, his expression to forget its magnetic attractiveness. + Indeed, it was only young men of scientific tastes that Sebastian could + ever attract. Among them, his eager zeal, his single-minded devotion to + the cause of science, awoke always a responsive chord which vibrated + powerfully. + </p> + <p> + Day after day passed, and we steamed through the Straits and neared the + Channel. Our thoughts began to assume a home complexion. Everybody was + full of schemes as to what he would do when he reached England. Old + Bradshaws were overhauled and trains looked out, on the supposition that + we would get in by such an hour on Tuesday. We were steaming along the + French coast, off the western promontory of Brittany. The evening was + fine, and though, of course, less warm than we had experienced of late, + yet pleasant and summer-like. We watched the distant cliffs of the + Finistere mainland and the numerous little islands that lie off the shore, + all basking in the unreal glow of a deep red sunset. The first officer was + in charge, a very cock-sure and careless young man, handsome and + dark-haired; the sort of young man who thought more of creating an + impression upon the minds of the lady passengers than of the duties of his + position. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you going down to your berth?” I asked of Hilda, about half-past + ten that night; “the air is so much colder here than you have been feeling + it of late, that I'm afraid of your chilling yourself.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at me with a smile, and drew her little fluffy, white + woollen wrap closer about her shoulders. “Am I so very valuable to you, + then?” she asked—for I suppose my glance had been a trifle too + tender for a mere acquaintance's. “No, thank you, Hubert; I don't think + I'll go down, and, if you're wise, you won't go down either. I distrust + this first officer. He's a careless navigator, and to-night his head's too + full of that pretty Mrs. Ogilvy. He has been flirting with her desperately + ever since we left Bombay, and to-morrow he knows he will lose her for + ever. His mind isn't occupied with the navigation at all; what HE is + thinking of is how soon his watch will be over, so that he may come down + off the bridge on to the quarter-deck to talk to her. Don't you see she's + lurking over yonder, looking up at the stars and waiting for him by the + compass? Poor child! she has a bad husband, and now she has let herself + get too much entangled with this empty young fellow. I shall be glad for + her sake to see her safely landed and out of the man's clutches.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, the first officer glanced down towards Mrs. Ogilvy, and held + out his chronometer with an encouraging smile which seemed to say, “Only + an hour and a half more now! At twelve, I shall be with you!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you're right, Hilda,” I answered, taking a seat beside her and + throwing away my cigar. “This is one of the worst bits on the French coast + that we're approaching. We're not far off Ushant. I wish the captain were + on the bridge instead of this helter-skelter, self-conceited young fellow. + He's too cock-sure. He knows so much about seamanship that he could take a + ship through any rocks on his course, blindfold—in his own opinion. + I always doubt a man who is so much at home in his subject that he never + has to think about it. Most things in this world are done by thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “We can't see the Ushant light,” Hilda remarked, looking ahead. + </p> + <p> + “No; there's a little haze about on the horizon, I fancy. See, the stars + are fading away. It begins to feel damp. Sea mist in the Channel.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda sat uneasily in her deck-chair. “That's bad,” she answered; “for the + first officer is taking no more heed of Ushant than of his latter end. He + has forgotten the existence of the Breton coast. His head is just stuffed + with Mrs. Ogilvy's eyelashes. Very pretty, long eyelashes, too; I don't + deny it; but they won't help him to get through the narrow channel. They + say it's dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Dangerous!” I answered. “Not a bit of it—with reasonable care. + Nothing at sea is dangerous—except the inexplicable recklessness of + navigators. There's always plenty of sea-room—if they care to take + it. Collisions and icebergs, to be sure, are dangers that can't be avoided + at times, especially if there's fog about. But I've been enough at sea in + my time to know this much at least—that no coast in the world is + dangerous except by dint of reckless corner-cutting. Captains of great + ships behave exactly like two hansom-drivers in the streets of London; + they think they can just shave past without grazing; and they DO shave + past nine times out of ten. The tenth time they run on the rocks through + sheer recklessness, and lose their vessel; and then, the newspapers always + ask the same solemn question—in childish good faith—how did so + experienced and able a navigator come to make such a mistake in his + reckoning? He made NO mistake; he simply tried to cut it fine, and cut it + too fine for once, with the result that he usually loses his own life and + his passengers. That's all. We who have been at sea understand that + perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + Just at that moment another passenger strolled up and joined us—a + Bengal Civil servant. He drew his chair over by Hilda's, and began + discussing Mrs. Ogilvy's eyes and the first officer's flirtations. Hilda + hated gossip, and took refuge in generalities. In three minutes the talk + had wandered off to Ibsen's influence on the English drama, and we had + forgotten the very existence of the Isle of Ushant. + </p> + <p> + “The English public will never understand Ibsen,” the newcomer said, + reflectively, with the omniscient air of the Indian civilian. “He is too + purely Scandinavian. He represents that part of the Continental mind which + is farthest removed from the English temperament. To him, respectability—our + god—is not only no fetish, it is the unspeakable thing, the + Moabitish abomination. He will not bow down to the golden image which our + British Nebuchadnezzar, King Demos, has made, and which he asks us to + worship. And the British Nebuchadnezzar will never get beyond the worship + of his Vishnu, respectability, the deity of the pure and blameless + ratepayer. So Ibsen must always remain a sealed book to the vast majority + of the English people.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” Hilda answered, “as to his direct influence; but don't you + think, indirectly, he is leavening England? A man so wholly out of tune + with the prevailing note of English life could only affect it, of course, + by means of disciples and popularisers—often even popularisers who + but dimly and distantly apprehend his meaning. He must be interpreted to + the English by English intermediaries, half Philistine themselves, who + speak his language ill, and who miss the greater part of his message. Yet + only by such half-hints—Why, what was that? I think I saw + something!” + </p> + <p> + Even as she uttered the words, a terrible jar ran fiercely through the + ship from stem to stern—a jar that made one clench one's teeth and + hold one's jaws tight—the jar of a prow that shattered against a + rock. I took it all in at a glance. We had forgotten Ushant, but Ushant + had not forgotten us. It had revenged itself upon us by revealing its + existence. + </p> + <p> + In a moment all was turmoil and confusion on deck. I cannot describe the + scene that followed. Sailors rushed to and fro, unfastening ropes and + lowering boats, with admirable discipline. Women shrieked and cried aloud + in helpless terror. The voice of the first officer could be heard above + the din, endeavouring to atone by courage and coolness in the actual + disaster for his recklessness in causing it. Passengers rushed on deck + half clad, and waited for their turn to take places in the boats. It was a + time of terror, turmoil, and hubbub. But, in the midst of it all, Hilda + turned to me with infinite calm in her voice. “Where is Sebastian?” she + asked, in a perfectly collected tone. “Whatever happens, we must not lose + sight of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I am here,” another voice, equally calm, responded beside her. “You are a + brave woman. Whether I sink or swim, I admire your courage, your + steadfastness of purpose.” It was the only time he had addressed a word to + her during the entire voyage. + </p> + <p> + They put the women and children into the first boats lowered. Mothers and + little ones went first; single women and widows after. “Now, Miss Wade,” + the first officer said, taking her gently by the shoulders when her turn + arrived. “Make haste; don't keep us waiting!” + </p> + <p> + But Hilda held back. “No, no,” she said, firmly. “I won't go yet. I am + waiting for the men's boat. I must not leave Professor Sebastian.” + </p> + <p> + The first officer shrugged his shoulders. There was no time for protest. + “Next, then,” he said, quickly. “Miss Martin—Miss Weatherly!” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian took her hand and tried to force her in. “You MUST go,” he said, + in a low, persuasive tone. “You must not wait for me!” + </p> + <p> + He hated to see her, I knew. But I imagined in his voice—for I noted + it even then—there rang some undertone of genuine desire to save + her. + </p> + <p> + Hilda loosened his grasp resolutely. “No, no,” she answered, “I cannot + fly. I shall never leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even if I promise—” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head and closed her lips hard. “Certainly not,” she said + again, after a pause. “I cannot trust you. Besides, I must stop by your + side and do my best to save you. Your life is all in all to me. I dare not + risk it.” + </p> + <p> + His gaze was now pure admiration. “As you will,” he answered. “For he that + loseth his life shall gain it.” + </p> + <p> + “If ever we land alive,” Hilda answered, glowing red in spite of the + danger, “I shall remind you of that word. I shall call upon you to fulfil + it.” + </p> + <p> + The boat was lowered, and still Hilda stood by my side. One second later, + another shock shook us. The Vindhya parted amidships, and we found + ourselves struggling and choking in the cold sea water. + </p> + <p> + It was a miracle that every soul of us was not drowned that moment, as + many of us were. The swirling eddy which followed as the Vindhya sank + swamped two of the boats, and carried down not a few of those who were + standing on the deck with us. The last I saw of the first officer was a + writhing form whirled about in the water; before he sank, he shouted + aloud, with a seaman's frank courage, “Say it was all my fault; I accept + the responsibility. I ran her too close. I am the only one to blame for + it.” Then he disappeared in the whirlpool caused by the sinking ship, and + we were left still struggling. + </p> + <p> + One of the life-rafts, hastily rigged by the sailors, floated our way. + Hilda struck out a stroke or two and caught it. She dragged herself on to + it, and beckoned me to follow. I could see she was holding on to something + tightly. I struck out in turn and reached the raft, which was composed of + two seats, fastened together in haste at the first note of danger. I + hauled myself up by Hilda's side. “Help me to pull him aboard!” she cried, + in an agonised voice. “I am afraid he has lost consciousness!” Then I + looked at the object she was clutching in her hands. It was Sebastian's + white head, apparently quite lifeless. + </p> + <p> + I pulled him up with her and laid him out on the raft. A very faint breeze + from the south-west had sprung up; that and a strong seaward current that + sets round the rocks were carrying us straight out from the Breton coast + and all chance of rescue, towards the open channel. + </p> + <p> + But Hilda thought nothing of such physical danger. “We have saved him, + Hubert!” she cried, clasping her hands. “We have saved him! But do you + think he is alive? For unless he is, MY chance, OUR chance, is gone + forever!” + </p> + <p> + I bent over and felt his pulse. As far as I could make out, it still beat + feebly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <h3> + THE EPISODE OF THE DEAD MAN WHO SPOKE + </h3> + <p> + I will not trouble you with details of those three terrible days and + nights when we drifted helplessly about at the mercy of the currents on + our improvised life-raft up and down the English Channel. The first night + was the worst. Slowly after that we grew used to the danger, the cold, the + hunger, and the thirst. Our senses were numbed; we passed whole hours + together in a sort of torpor, just vaguely wondering whether a ship would + come in sight to save us, obeying the merciful law that those who are + utterly exhausted are incapable of acute fear, and acquiescing in the + probability of our own extinction. But however slender the chance—and + as the hours stole on it seemed slender enough—Hilda still kept her + hopes fixed mainly on Sebastian. No daughter could have watched the father + she loved more eagerly and closely than Hilda watched her life-long enemy—the + man who had wrought such evil upon her and hers. To save our own lives + without him would be useless. At all hazards, she must keep him alive, on + the bare chance of a rescue. If he died, there died with him the last hope + of justice and redress. + </p> + <p> + As for Sebastian, after the first half-hour, during which he lay white and + unconscious, he opened his eyes faintly, as we could see by the moonlight, + and gazed around him with a strange, puzzled state of inquiry. Then his + senses returned to him by degrees. “What! you, Cumberledge?” he murmured, + measuring me with his eye; “and you, Nurse Wade? Well, I thought you would + manage it.” There was a tone almost of amusement in his voice, a + half-ironical tone which had been familiar to us in the old hospital days. + He raised himself on one arm and gazed at the water all round. Then he was + silent for some minutes. At last he spoke again. “Do you know what I ought + to do if I were consistent?” he asked, with a tinge of pathos in his + words. “Jump off this raft, and deprive you of your last chance of triumph—the + triumph which you have worked for so hard. You want to save my life for + your own ends, not for mine. Why should I help you to my own undoing?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda's voice was tenderer and softer than usual as she answered: “No, not + for my own ends alone, and not for your undoing, but to give you one last + chance of unburdening your conscience. Some men are too small to be + capable of remorse; their little souls have no room for such a feeling. + You are great enough to feel it and to try to crush it down. But you + CANNOT crush it down; it crops up in spite of you. You have tried to bury + it in your soul, and you have failed. It is your remorse that has driven + you to make so many attempts against the only living souls who knew and + understood. If ever we get safely to land once more—and God knows it + is not likely—I give you still the chance of repairing the mischief + you have done, and of clearing my father's memory from the cruel stain + which you and only you can wipe away.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian lay long, silent once more, gazing up at her fixedly, with the + foggy, white moonlight shining upon his bright, inscrutable eyes. “You are + a brave woman, Maisie Yorke-Bannerman,” he said, at last, slowly; “a very + brave woman. I will try to live—I too—for a purpose of my own. + I say it again: he that loseth his life shall gain it.” + </p> + <p> + Incredible as it may sound, in half an hour more he was lying fast asleep + on that wave-tossed raft, and Hilda and I were watching him tenderly. And + it seemed to us as we watched him that a change had come over those stern + and impassive features. They had softened and melted until his face was + that of a gentler and better type. It was as if some inward change of soul + was moulding the fierce old Professor into a nobler and more venerable + man. + </p> + <p> + Day after day we drifted on, without food or water. The agony was + terrible; I will not attempt to describe it, for to do so is to bring it + back too clearly to my memory. Hilda and I, being younger and stronger, + bore up against it well; but Sebastian, old and worn, and still weak from + the plague, grew daily weaker. His pulse just beat, and sometimes I could + hardly feel it thrill under my finger. He became delirious, and murmured + much about Yorke-Bannerman's daughter. Sometimes he forgot all, and spoke + to me in the friendly terms of our old acquaintance at Nathaniel's, giving + me directions and advice about imaginary operations. Hour after hour we + watched for a sail, and no sail appeared. One could hardly believe we + could toss about so long in the main highway of traffic without seeing a + ship or spying more than the smoke-trail of some passing steamer. + </p> + <p> + As far as I could judge, during those days and nights, the wind veered + from south-west to south-east, and carried us steadily and surely towards + the open Atlantic. On the third evening out, about five o'clock, I saw a + dark object on the horizon. Was it moving towards us? We strained our eyes + in breathless suspense. A minute passed, and then another. Yes, there + could be no doubt. It grew larger and larger. It was a ship—a + steamer. We made all the signs of distress we could manage. I stood up and + waved Hilda's white shawl frantically in the air. There was half an hour + of suspense, and our hearts sank as we thought that they were about to + pass us. Then the steamer hove to a little and seemed to notice us. Next + instant we dropped upon our knees, for we saw they were lowering a boat. + They were coming to our aid. They would be in time to save us. + </p> + <p> + Hilda watched our rescuers with parted lips and agonised eyes. Then she + felt Sebastian's pulse. “Thank Heaven,” she cried, “he still lives! They + will be here before he is quite past confession.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian opened his eyes dreamily. “A boat?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a boat!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have gained your point, child. I am able to collect myself. Give + me a few hours' more life, and what I can do to make amends to you shall + be done.” + </p> + <p> + I don't know why, but it seemed longer between the time when the boat was + lowered and the moment when it reached us than it had seemed during the + three days and nights we lay tossing about helplessly on the open + Atlantic. There were times when we could hardly believe it was really + moving. At last, however, it reached us, and we saw the kindly faces and + outstretched hands of our rescuers. Hilda clung to Sebastian with a wild + clasp as the men reached out for her. + </p> + <p> + “No, take HIM first!” she cried, when the sailors, after the custom of + men, tried to help her into the gig before attempting to save us; “his + life is worth more to me than my own. Take him—and for God's sake + lift him gently, for he is nearly gone!” + </p> + <p> + They took him aboard and laid him down in the stern. Then, and then only, + Hilda stepped into the boat, and I staggered after her. The officer in + charge, a kind young Irishman, had had the foresight to bring brandy and a + little beef essence. We ate and drank what we dared as they rowed us back + to the steamer. Sebastian lay back, with his white eyelashes closed over + the lids, and the livid hue of death upon his emaciated cheeks; but he + drank a teaspoonful or two of brandy, and swallowed the beef essence with + which Hilda fed him. + </p> + <p> + “Your father is the most exhausted of the party,” the officer said, in a + low undertone. “Poor fellow, he is too old for such adventures. He seems + to have hardly a spark of life left in him.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda shuddered with evident horror. “He is not my father—thank + Heaven!” she cried, leaning over him and supporting his drooping head, in + spite of her own fatigue and the cold that chilled our very bones. “But I + think he will live. I mean him to live. He is my best friend now—and + my bitterest enemy!” + </p> + <p> + The officer looked at her in surprise, and then touched his forehead, + inquiringly, with a quick glance at me. He evidently thought cold and + hunger had affected her reason. I shook my head. “It is a peculiar case,” + I whispered. “What the lady says is right. Everything depends for us upon + our keeping him alive till we reach England.” + </p> + <p> + They rowed us to the boat, and we were handed tenderly up the side. There, + the ship's surgeon and everybody else on board did their best to restore + us after our terrible experience. The ship was the Don, of the Royal Mail + Steamship Company's West Indian line; and nothing could exceed the + kindness with which we were treated by every soul on board, from the + captain to the stewardess and the junior cabin-boy. Sebastian's great name + carried weight even here. As soon as it was generally understood on board + that we had brought with us the famous physiologist and pathologist, the + man whose name was famous throughout Europe, we might have asked for + anything that the ship contained without fear of a refusal. But, indeed, + Hilda's sweet face was enough in itself to win the interest and sympathy + of all who saw it. + </p> + <p> + By eleven next morning we were off Plymouth Sound; and by midday we had + landed at the Mill Bay Docks, and were on our way to a comfortable hotel + in the neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + Hilda was too good a nurse to bother Sebastian at once about his implied + promise. She had him put to bed, and kept him there carefully. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of his condition?” she asked me, after the second day + was over. I could see by her own grave face that she had already formed + her own conclusions. + </p> + <p> + “He cannot recover,” I answered. “His constitution, shattered by the + plague and by his incessant exertions, has received too severe a shock in + this shipwreck. He is doomed.” + </p> + <p> + “So I think. The change is but temporary. He will not last out three days + more, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “He has rallied wonderfully to-day,” I said; “but 'tis a passing rally; a + flicker—no more. If you wish to do anything, now is the moment. If + you delay, you will be too late.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go in and see him,” Hilda answered. “I have said nothing more to + him, but I think he is moved. I think he means to keep his promise. He has + shown a strange tenderness to me these last few days. I almost believe he + is at last remorseful, and ready to undo the evil which he has done.” + </p> + <p> + She stole softly into the sick room. I followed her on tip-toe, and stood + near the door behind the screen which shut off the draught from the + patient. Sebastian stretched his arms out to her. “Ah, Maisie, my child,” + he cried, addressing her by the name she had borne in her childhood—both + were her own—“don't leave me any more! Stay with me always, Maisie! + I can't get on without you.” + </p> + <p> + “But you hated once to see me!” + </p> + <p> + “Because I have so wronged you.” + </p> + <p> + “And now? Will you do nothing to repair the wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “My child, I can never undo that wrong. It is irreparable, for the past + can never be recalled; but I will try my best to minimise it. Call + Cumberledge in. I am quite sensible now, quite conscious. You will be my + witness, Cumberledge, that my pulse is normal and that my brain is clear. + I will confess it all. Maisie, your constancy and your firmness have + conquered me. And your devotion to your father. If only I had had a + daughter like you, my girl, one whom I could have loved and trusted, I + might have been a better man. I might even have done better work for + science—though on that side, at least, I have little with which to + reproach myself.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda bent over him. “Hubert and I are here,” she said, slowly, in a + strangely calm voice; “but that is not enough. I want a public, an + attested, confession. It must be given before witnesses, and signed and + sworn to. Somebody might throw doubt upon my word and Hubert's.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian shrank back. “Given before witnesses, and signed and sworn to! + Maisie, is this humiliation necessary; do you exact it?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda was inexorable. “You know yourself how you are situated. You have + only a day or two to live,” she said, in an impressive voice. “You must do + it at once, or never. You have postponed it all your life. Now, at this + last moment, you must make up for it. Will you die with an act of + injustice unconfessed on your conscience?” + </p> + <p> + He paused and struggled. “I could—if it were not for you,” he + answered. + </p> + <p> + “Then do it for me,” Hilda cried. “Do it for me! I ask it of you not as a + favour, but as a right. I DEMAND it!” She stood, white, stern, inexorable, + by his couch, and laid her hand upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + He paused once more. Then he murmured feebly, in a querulous tone, “What + witnesses? Whom do you wish to be present?” + </p> + <p> + Hilda spoke clearly and distinctly. She had thought it all out with + herself beforehand. “Such witnesses as will carry absolute conviction to + the mind of all the world; irreproachable, disinterested witnesses; + official witnesses. In the first place, a commissioner of oaths. Then a + Plymouth doctor, to show that you are in a fit state of mind to make a + confession. Next, Mr. Horace Mayfield, who defended my father. Lastly, Dr. + Blake Crawford, who watched the case on your behalf at the trial.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Hilda,” I interposed, “we may possibly find that they cannot come + away from London just now. They are busy men, and likely to be engaged.” + </p> + <p> + “They will come if I pay their fees. I do not mind how much this costs me. + What is money compared to this one great object of my life?” + </p> + <p> + “And then—the delay! Suppose that we are too late?” + </p> + <p> + “He will live some days yet. I can telegraph up at once. I want no + hole-and-corner confession, which may afterwards be useless, but an open + avowal before the most approved witnesses. If he will make it, well and + good; if not, my life-work will have failed. But I had rather it failed + than draw back one inch from the course which I have laid down for + myself.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at the worn face of Sebastian. He nodded his head slowly. “She + has conquered,” he answered, turning upon the pillow. “Let her have her + own way. I hid it for years, for science' sake. That was my motive, + Cumberledge, and I am too near death to lie. Science has now nothing more + to gain or lose by me. I have served her well, but I am worn out in her + service. Maisie may do as she will. I accept her ultimatum.” + </p> + <p> + We telegraphed up, at once. Fortunately, both men were disengaged, and + both keenly interested in the case. By that evening, Horace Mayfield was + talking it all over with me in the hotel at Southampton. “Well, Hubert, my + boy,” he said, “a woman, we know, can do a great deal”; he smiled his + familiar smile, like a genial fat toad; “but if your Yorke-Bannerman + succeeds in getting a confession out of Sebastian, she'll extort my + admiration.” He paused a moment, then he added, in an afterthought: “I say + that she'll extort my admiration; but, mind you, I don't know that I shall + feel inclined to believe it. The facts have always appeared to me—strictly + between ourselves, you know—to admit of only one explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait and see,” I answered. “You think it more likely that Miss Wade will + have persuaded Sebastian to confess to things that never happened than + that he will convince you of Yorke-Bannerman's innocence?” + </p> + <p> + The great Q.C. fingered his cigarette-holder affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “You hit it first time,” he answered. “That is precisely my attitude. The + evidence against our poor friend was so peculiarly black. It would take a + great deal to make me disbelieve it.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely a confession—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, let me hear the confession, and then I shall be better able to + judge.” + </p> + <p> + Even as he spoke Hilda had entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “There will be no difficulty about that, Mr. Mayfield. You shall hear it, + and I trust that it will make you repent for taking so black a view of the + case of your own client.” + </p> + <p> + “Without prejudice, Miss Bannerman, without prejudice,” said the lawyer, + with some confusion. “Our conversation is entirely between ourselves, and + to the world I have always upheld that your father was an innocent man.” + </p> + <p> + But such distinctions are too subtle for a loving woman. + </p> + <p> + “He WAS an innocent man,” said she, angrily. “It was your business not + only to believe it, but to prove it. You have neither believed it nor + proved it; but if you will come upstairs with me, I will show you that I + have done both.” + </p> + <p> + Mayfield glanced at me and shrugged his fat shoulders. Hilda had led the + way, and we both followed her. In the room of the sick man our other + witnesses were waiting: a tall, dark, austere man who was introduced to me + as Dr. Blake Crawford, whose name I had heard as having watched the case + for Sebastian at the time of the investigation. There were present also a + commissioner of oaths, and Dr. Mayby, a small local practitioner, whose + attitude towards the great scientist was almost absurdly reverential. The + three men were grouped at the foot of the bed, and Mayfield and I joined + them. Hilda stood beside the dying man, and rearranged the pillow against + which he was propped. Then she held some brandy to his lips. “Now!” said + she. + </p> + <p> + The stimulant brought a shade of colour into his ghastly cheeks, and the + old quick, intelligent gleam came back into his deep sunk eyes. + </p> + <p> + “A remarkable woman, gentlemen,” said he, “a very noteworthy woman. I had + prided myself that my willpower was the most powerful in the country—I + had never met any to match it—but I do not mind admitting that, for + firmness and tenacity, this lady is my equal. She was anxious that I + should adopt one course of action. I was determined to adopt another. Your + presence here is a proof that she has prevailed.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for breath, and she gave him another small sip of the brandy. + </p> + <p> + “I execute her will ungrudgingly and with the conviction that it is the + right and proper course for me to take,” he continued. “You will forgive + me some of the ill which I have done you, Maisie, when I tell you that I + really died this morning—all unknown to Cumberledge and you—and + that nothing but my will force has sufficed to keep spirit and body + together until I should carry out your will in the manner which you + suggested. I shall be glad when I have finished, for the effort is a + painful one, and I long for the peace of dissolution. It is now a quarter + to seven. I have every hope that I may be able to leave before eight.” + </p> + <p> + It was strange to hear the perfect coolness with which he discussed his + own approaching dissolution. Calm, pale, and impassive, his manner was + that of a professor addressing his class. I had seen him speak so to a + ring of dressers in the old days at Nathaniel's. + </p> + <p> + “The circumstances which led up to the death of Admiral Scott Prideaux, + and the suspicions which caused the arrest of Doctor Yorke-Bannerman, have + never yet been fully explained, although they were by no means so profound + that they might not have been unravelled at the time had a man of + intellect concentrated his attention upon them. The police, however, were + incompetent and the legal advisers of Dr. Bannerman hardly less so, and a + woman only has had the wit to see that a gross injustice has been done. + The true facts I will now lay before you.” + </p> + <p> + Mayfield's broad face had reddened with indignation; but now his curiosity + drove out every other emotion, and he leaned forward with the rest of us + to hear the old man's story. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, I must tell you that both Dr. Bannerman and myself + were engaged at the time in an investigation upon the nature and + properties of the vegetable alkaloids, and especially of aconitine. We + hoped for the very greatest results from this drug, and we were both + equally enthusiastic in our research. Especially, we had reason to believe + that it might have a most successful action in the case of a certain rare + but deadly disease, into the nature of which I need not enter. Reasoning + by analogy, we were convinced that we had a certain cure for this + particular ailment. + </p> + <p> + “Our investigation, however, was somewhat hampered by the fact that the + condition in question is rare out of tropical countries, and that in our + hospital wards we had not, at that time, any example of it. So serious was + this obstacle, that it seemed that we must leave other men more favourably + situated to reap the benefit of our work and enjoy the credit of our + discovery, but a curious chance gave us exactly what we were in search of, + at the instant when we were about to despair. It was Yorke-Bannerman who + came to me in my laboratory one day to tell me that he had in his private + practice the very condition of which we were in search. + </p> + <p> + “'The patient,' said he, 'is my uncle, Admiral Scott Prideaux.' + </p> + <p> + “'Your uncle!' I cried, in amazement. 'But how came he to develop such a + condition?' + </p> + <p> + “'His last commission in the Navy was spent upon the Malabar Coast, where + the disease is endemic. There can be do doubt that it has been latent in + his system ever since, and that the irritability of temper and indecision + of character, of which his family have so often had to complain, were + really among the symptoms of his complaint.' + </p> + <p> + “I examined the Admiral in consultation with my colleague, and I confirmed + his diagnosis. But, to my surprise, Yorke-Bannerman showed the most + invincible and reprehensible objection to experiment upon his relative. In + vain I assured him that he must place his duty to science high above all + other considerations. It was only after great pressure that I could + persuade him to add an infinitesimal portion of aconitine to his + prescriptions. The drug was a deadly one, he said, and the toxic dose was + still to be determined. He could not push it in the case of a relative who + trusted himself to his care. I tried to shake him in what I regarded as + his absurd squeamishness—but in vain. + </p> + <p> + “But I had another resource. Bannerman's prescriptions were made up by a + fellow named Barclay, who had been dispenser at Nathaniel's and afterwards + set up as a chemist in Sackville Street. This man was absolutely in my + power. I had discovered him at Nathaniel's in dishonest practices, and I + held evidence which would have sent him to gaol. I held this over him now, + and I made him, unknown to Bannerman, increase the doses of aconitine in + the medicine until they were sufficient for my experimental purposes. I + will not enter into figures, but suffice it that Bannerman was giving more + than ten times what he imagined. + </p> + <p> + “You know the sequel. I was called in, and suddenly found that I had + Bannerman in my power. There had been a very keen rivalry between us in + science. He was the only man in England whose career might impinge upon + mine. I had this supreme chance of putting him out of my way. He could not + deny that he had been giving his uncle aconitine. I could prove that his + uncle had died of aconitine. He could not himself account for the facts—he + was absolutely in my power. I did not wish him to be condemned, Maisie. I + only hoped that he would leave the court discredited and ruined. I give + you my word that my evidence would have saved him from the scaffold.” + </p> + <p> + Hilda was listening, with a set, white face. + </p> + <p> + “Proceed!” said she, and held out the brandy once more. + </p> + <p> + “I did not give the Admiral any more aconitine after I had taken over the + case. But what was already in his system was enough. It was evident that + we had seriously under-estimated the lethal dose. As to your father, + Maisie, you have done me an injustice. You have always thought that I + killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “Proceed!” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I speak now from the brink of the grave, and I tell you that I did not. + His heart was always weak, and it broke down under the strain. Indirectly + I was the cause—I do not seek to excuse anything; but it was the + sorrow and the shame that killed him. As to Barclay, the chemist, that is + another matter. I will not deny that I was concerned in that mysterious + disappearance, which was a seven days' wonder in the Press. I could not + permit my scientific calm to be interrupted by the blackmailing visits of + so insignificant a person. And then after many years you came, Maisie. You + also got between me and that work which was life to me. You also showed + that you would rake up this old matter and bring dishonour upon a name + which has stood for something in science. You also—but you will + forgive me. I have held on to life for your sake as an atonement for my + sins. Now, I go! Cumberledge—your notebook. Subjective sensations, + swimming in the head, light flashes before the eyes, soothing torpor, some + touch of coldness, constriction of the temples, humming in the ears, a + sense of sinking—sinking—sinking!” + </p> + <p> + It was an hour later, and Hilda and I were alone in the chamber of death. + As Sebastian lay there, a marble figure, with his keen eyes closed and his + pinched, thin face whiter and serener than ever, I could not help gazing + at him with some pangs of recollection. I could not avoid recalling the + time when his very name was to me a word of power, and when the thought of + him roused on my cheek a red flush of enthusiasm. As I looked I murmured + two lines from Browning's Grammarian's Funeral: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This is our Master, famous, calm, and dead, + Borne on our shoulders. +</pre> + <p> + Hilda Wade, standing beside me, with an awestruck air, added a stanza from + the same great poem: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Lofty designs must close in like effects: + Loftily lying, + Leave him—still loftier than the world suspects, + Living and dying. +</pre> + <p> + I gazed at her with admiration. “And it is YOU, Hilda, who pay him this + generous tribute!” I cried, “YOU, of all women!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is I,” she answered. “He was a great man, after all, Hubert. Not + good, but great. And greatness by itself extorts our unwilling homage.” + </p> + <p> + “Hilda,” I cried, “you are a great woman; and a good woman, too. It makes + me proud to think you will soon be my wife. For there is now no longer any + just cause or impediment.” + </p> + <p> + Beside the dead master, she laid her hand solemnly and calmly in mine. “No + impediment,” she answered. “I have vindicated and cleared my father's + memory. And now, I can live. 'Actual life comes next.' We have much to do, + Hubert.” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hilda Wade, by Grant Allen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILDA WADE *** + +***** This file should be named 4903-h.htm or 4903-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/9/0/4903/ + +Produced by Don Lainson; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +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-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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