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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4903-0.txt b/4903-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f8fa1a --- /dev/null +++ b/4903-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10053 @@ +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 + + + + + +HILDA WADE + +A WOMAN WITH TENACITY OF PURPOSE + + +By Grant Allen + + +1899 + + + + +PUBLISHERS' NOTE + +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. + + + + +HILDA WADE + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE EPISODE OF THE PATIENT WHO DISAPPOINTED HER DOCTOR + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +Hilda Wade herself I will not formally introduce to you: you will learn +to know her as I proceed with my story. + +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.” + +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: + +“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!” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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!” + +“You are right,” I answered. “I believe she means it. Yet I know one man +at least--” for I admired her immensely. + +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!” + +“And it is?” + +“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.” + +“It is very odd,” I mused. “But there!--women are inexplicable!” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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!” + +“Intuition,” I answered. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“Your principle?” Sebastian asked our sibyl, in his brief, quick way. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“Dare we try it on a human subject?” I asked, tentatively. + +Hilda Wade answered at once, with that unerring rapidity of hers: “Yes, +certainly; on a few--the right persons. _I_, for one, am not afraid to +try it.” + +“You?” I cried, feeling suddenly aware how much I thought of her. “Oh, +not YOU, please, Nurse Wade. Some other life, less valuable!” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +That evening, by six o'clock, she was quite well and able to go about +her duties as usual. + +“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.” + +“Coolness?” she inquired, in a quiet voice. “Or cruelty?” + +“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!” + +“Of philanthropy, or of science? To alleviate pain, or to learn the +whole truth about the human body?” + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +He lay long asleep. Hilda and I watched him. + +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. + +“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. + +“That is why God gave men moustaches,” she mused, in a low voice; “to +hide the cruel corners of their mouths.” + +“Not ALWAYS cruel,” I cried. + +“Sometimes cruel, sometimes cunning, sometimes sensuous; but nine times +out of ten best masked by moustaches.” + +“You have a bad opinion of our sex!” I exclaimed. + +“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!” + +On second thought, I did not feel sure that I could quarrel with her +estimate. + +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.” + +“Would you call him impassioned?” I asked. “Most people think him so +cold and stern.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“And a tobacco-trimmer by trade,” Sebastian added, sarcastically. + +As usual, Hilda's was the truer description. It went deeper. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +The patient's dark face flushed crimson. + +“Ah! Arthur,” she cried. “Dear Arthur! I can bear anything you choose to +do to me--for Arthur!” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“She WILL live to marry him,” I answered, with confidence like her own, +“if YOU say she can stand it.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“A successful operation, certainly!” the great surgeon admitted, with +just pride in the Master's commendation. + +“AND the patient?” Hilda asked, wavering. + +“Oh, the patient? The patient will die,” Nielsen replied, in an +unconcerned voice, wiping his spotless instruments. + +“That is not MY idea of the medical art,” I cried, shocked at his +callousness. “An operation is only successful if--” + +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?” + +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.” + +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. + +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? + +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! + +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.” + +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.” + +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!” + +“Call me Hilda, please! Hilda!” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“What is that?” I asked. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“A hundred and three.” + +I shook my head. Every symptom of fatal relapse. I could not imagine +what card Hilda held in reserve. But I stood there, waiting. + +She whispered in the girl's ear: “Arthur's ship is sighted off the +Lizard.” + +The patient opened her eyes slowly, and rolled them for a moment as if +she did not understand. + +“Too late!” I cried. “Too late! She is delirious--insensible!” + +Hilda repeated the words slowly, but very distinctly. “Do you hear, +dear? Arthur's ship... it is sighted.... Arthur's ship... at the +Lizard.” + +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. + +“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.” + +She struggled up for a second. A smile flitted across the worn face. +Then she fell back wearily. + +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.” + +“Yes, dear. Now sleep. He is coming.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Seen him!” the girl gasped. + +“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.” + +The wan lips quivered. “He will NEVER marry me!” + +“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.” + +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. + + + +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--” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Forgive my persistence,” I replied; “but--her temperature has gone down +to ninety-nine and a trifle.” + +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!” + +“But surely, sir--” I cried. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +He snapped his fingers. “Lethodyne! pooh! I have lost interest in it. +Impracticable! It is not fitted for the human species.” + +“Why so? Number Fourteen proves--” + +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.” + +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. + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE EPISODE OF THE GENTLEMAN WHO HAD FAILED FOR EVERYTHING + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“I have heard you speak of him,” I answered, drinking him in with my +glance. I added internally, “Not half good enough for you.” + +Hilda's eyes met mine and read my thought. They flashed back word, in +the language of eyes, “I do not agree with you.” + +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. + +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. + +“Now, which would YOU advise me, Miss Tepping?” he inquired, after we +had discussed the matter some minutes. + +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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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?” + +Holsworthy rose too. “Mayn't I go with you?” he asked, eagerly. + +“Oh, if you like. How very kind of you!” Daphne answered, her cheek a +blush rose. “Hubert, will you come too? and you, Hilda?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“You think he's in love with her?” I asked. + +“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.” + +“Then what do you suppose is the matter?” + +“I have an inkling of the truth: I imagine Mr. Cecil must have let +himself in for a prior attachment.” + +“If so, why does he hang about Daphne?” + +“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.” + +“Is he well off? Could he afford to marry Daphne?” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Just at that moment the door opened and my aunt entered. + +“Why, where's Daphne?” she cried, looking about her and arranging her +black lace shawl. + +“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.” + +“What? That boy's been here again?” + +“Yes, Lady Tepping. He called to see Daphne.” + +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_ 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.” + +I nodded and beamed benignly. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Really, Aunt Fanny,” I said; “you must recollect that a professional +man--” + +“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!” + +“Conceal them! My dearest aunt! Why, I danced twice with Daphne.” + +“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_ 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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“Which way are you walking?” I asked, as we turned out into the street. + +“Towards my rooms in the Temple.” + +“Oh! I'm going back to St. Nathaniel's,” I continued. “If you'll allow +me, I'll walk part way with you.” + +“How very kind of you!” + +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. + +“You seem to think so,” I answered, smiling. + +He flushed a little; the lantern jaw grew longer. “I admire her, of +course,” he answered. “Who doesn't? She is so extraordinarily handsome.” + +“Well, not exactly handsome,” I replied, with more critical and +kinsman-like deliberation. “Pretty, if you will; and decidedly pleasing +and attractive in manner.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“Clever!” he echoed. “Profound! She has a most unusual intellect. She +stands alone.” + +“Like her mother's silk dresses,” I murmured, half under my breath. + +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!” + +“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.) + +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.” + +“There is such a thing as being TOO modest and unassuming,” I answered. +“It sometimes leads to unintentional cruelty.” + +“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?” + +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.” + +His mouth twitched. “That's very serious!” he answered, gravely; “very +serious.” + +“It is,” I responded, with my best paternal manner, gazing blankly in +front of me. + +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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“So I anticipated,” I answered, lighting up. + +He started and looked surprised. “Why, what made you guess it?” he +inquired. + +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?” + +“A great deal,” he answered. “For example, the sense of my own utter +unworthiness.” + +“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. + +“Unfortunately, yes. What do you think of her?” + +I scrutinised the features. “Seems a nice enough little thing,” I +answered. It was an innocent face, I admit; very frank and girlish. + +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. + +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. + +“In the theatrical profession?” I inquired at last, looking up. + +He hesitated. “Well, not exactly,” he answered. + +I pursed my lips and blew a ring. “Music-hall stage?” I went on, +dubiously. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Now, THERE you show prejudice!” + +“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.” + +“I think she's a good girl,” he retorted, slowly. + +“Then why do you want to throw her over?” I inquired. + +“I don't. That's just it. On the contrary, I mean to keep my word and +marry her.” + +“IN ORDER to keep your word?” I suggested. + +He nodded. “Precisely. It is a point of honour.” + +“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.” + +He bared it instantly. “I thought I was in love with this girl, you +see,” he went on, “till I saw Miss Tepping.” + +“That makes a difference,” I admitted. + +“And I couldn't bear to break her heart.” + +“Heaven forbid!” I cried. “It is the one unpardonable sin. Better +anything than that.” Then I grew practical. “Father's consent?” + +“MY father's? IS it likely? He expects me to marry into some +distinguished English family.” + +I hummed a moment. “Well, out with it!” I exclaimed, pointing my cigar +at him. + +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--” + +“Precisely so,” I murmured, knocking off my ash. “The usual +self-sacrifice! Case quite normal! Everything en regle!” + +“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--” + +“As a flower in May. Oh, yes; I don't doubt it. How did you come to +propose to her, though?” + +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--” + +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.” + +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?” + +“Oh, no; she's on tour.” + +“In the provinces?” + +“M'yes; just at present, at Scarborough.” + +“But she writes to you?” + +“Every day.” + +“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?” + +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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“What, Daphne?” + +I smiled. “No, not Daphne,” I answered. “Our friend, Miss Wade. She has +extraordinary insight.” + +“I could trust anything to Miss Wade. She is true as steel.” + +“You are right,” I answered. “That shows that you, too, are a judge of +character.” + +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.” + +I grasped his hand. “My dear fellow,” I said, “nearly ninety per cent. +of men, after all--are human!” + +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.” + +I produced the photograph. “What do you make of that?” I asked. “_I_ +think it an honest face, myself, I may tell you.” + +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.'” + +“You mean they are so much touched up!” + +“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.” + +“You think so?” + +“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.” + +“But the underlying face?” + +“Is a minx's.” + +I handed her the letter. “This next?” I asked, fixing my eyes on her as +she looked. + +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.” + +“You believe, then, there is character in handwriting?” + +“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!” + +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!” + +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.” + +“How kind of you!” I cried. “But you are always all kindness.” + +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. + +“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!” + +“You have seen her?” I asked. + +“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.” + +“That's well,” I answered. “That looks all right.” + +“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.” + +“Well, that was open and aboveboard,” I continued, beginning to fear we +had hastily misjudged Miss Sissie Montague. + +“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.” + +“And the other?” + +“Wasn't.” + +“Did you note the name?” I asked, interested. + +“Yes; here it is.” She handed me a slip of paper. + +I read it: “Reginald Nettlecraft, Esq., 427, Staples Inn, London.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Not a penny, I should say. An allowance from his father, perhaps, who +is a Lincolnshire parson; but otherwise, nothing.” + +“Then, in my opinion, the young lady is playing for Mr. Holsworthy's +money; failing which, she will decline upon Mr. Nettlecraft's heart.” + +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.” + +“Do. That will suffice. You can judge then for yourself whether or not I +am mistaken.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +The old lady half rose. “Let me see,” she said, staring at me. “WHICH is +Mr. Holsworthy, Siss?--is it Cecil or Reggie?” + +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. + +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. + +As it was, I went back to London the very next day, determined to renew +my slight acquaintance with Reggie Nettlecraft. + +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. + +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!” + +“That is my profession,” I answered, unashamed. “And you?” + +“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.” + +“And when you have failed for everything?” I inquired, just to test his +sense of humour. + +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.” + +“Then why not mark your sense of the fact by leaving it?” I inquired, +with a smile. + +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.” + +“And yet imperialists,” I said, “generally gush over the colonies--the +Empire on which the sun never sets.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“It's quite unimportant,” I answered. “I was asked to ask you, and I +HAVE asked you.” + +“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--” + +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?” + +“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?” + +“Oh, yes; I know her. I called on her, in fact, night before last, at +Scarborough.” + +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.” + +“What other Johnnie?” I asked, feeling we were getting near it. + +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.” + +“I have certainly never aspired to the young lady's hand,” I answered, +cautiously. “But don't you know your rival's name, then?” + +“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!” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“Got what?” I inquired, not quite catching the phrase. + +“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.” + +“She writes to you, I think?” + +“That's so; every blooming day; but how the dummy did you come to know +it?” + +“She lays letters addressed to you on the hall table at her lodgings in +Scarborough.” + +“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. + +“You really want to get rid of this other fellow?” I asked, seeing my +chance. + +“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!” + +“As a preliminary step, would you mind letting me see one of Miss +Montague's letters?” I inquired. + +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.” + +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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“You have no compunctions?” I asked again, after reading it. + +“Not a blessed compunction to my name.” + +“Then neither have I,” I answered. + +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. + +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?” + +“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.” + +He sat down and wrote, much relieved that I took the responsibility off +his shoulders. + + +“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. + +“Faithfully yours, + +“CECIL HOLSWORTHY.” + + +“Nothing more than that?” he asked, looking up and biting his pen. “Not +a word of regret or apology?” + +“Not a word,” I answered. “You are really too lenient.” + +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. + +I smiled. “My dear fellow, that is a matter for your own consideration.” + +“But--do you think she will laugh at me?” + +“Miss Montague?” + +“No! Daphne.” + +“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.” + +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!” + +“We are all unworthy of a good woman's love,” I answered. “But, thank +Heaven, the good women don't seem to realise it.” + +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. + +“Well, you won't believe it, Dr. Cumberledge,” he began; “but--” + +“Yes, I DO believe it,” I answered. “I know it. I have read it already.” + +“Read it!” he cried. “Where?” + +I waved my hand towards his face. “In a special edition of the evening +papers,” I answered, smiling. “Daphne has accepted you!” + +He sank into an easy chair, beside himself with rapture. “Yes, yes; that +angel! Thanks to YOU, she has accepted me!” + +“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.” + +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. + +“And I have given Daphne a husband who will love and appreciate her,” + Hilda answered, flushing. + +“You see,” I said, maliciously; “I told you they never find us out, +Holsworthy!” + +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. + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE EPISODE OF THE WIFE WHO DID HER DUTY + + +To make you understand my next yarn, I must go back to the date of my +introduction to Hilda. + +“It is witchcraft!” I said the first time I saw her, at Le Geyt's +luncheon-party. + +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.” + +“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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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?” + +“You are quite correct. Then you knew my mother?” + +“Oh, dear me, no! I never even met her. Why THEN?” + +Her look was mischievous. “But, unless I mistake, I think she came from +Hendre Coed, near Bangor.” + +“Wales is a village!” I exclaimed, catching my breath. “Every Welsh +person seems to know all about every other.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +She shut her eyes and seemed to turn her glance inward. + +“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. + +“Quite right,” I answered, nodding. + +“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. + +“You are quite correct,” I answered, surprised. “And that is really all +that you knew of my mother?” + +“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.” + +“And can you do the same with everyone?” + +“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.” + +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. + +But I am forgetting that all this time I have not even now introduced my +witch to you. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +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: + +“I think, before twelve mouths are out, MR. LE GEYT WILL HAVE MURDERED +HER!” + +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? + +I gasped and wondered. + +“What makes you fancy anything so unlikely?” I asked aside at last, +behind the babel of voices. “You quite alarm me.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“I know that,” she answered, growing grave. “I ought to know it. I am a +nurse already at St. George's Hospital.” + +“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.” + +“I know that too; but... Sebastian is at St. Nathaniel's--and I want to +be near Sebastian.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“You may trust me implicitly,” I answered. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Thanks so much,” she answered, with that delicious smile. It had an +infantile simplicity about it which contrasted most piquantly with her +prophetic manner. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +“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!” + +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?” + +“The victim? What do you mean?” + +“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.” + +“But this is second sight!” I cried, drawing away. “Do you pretend to +prevision?” + +“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.” + +“Explain yourself, oh, prophetess!” + +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. + +“What, Travers? Oh, intimately.” + +“Then come to my ward and see. After you have seen, you will perhaps +believe me.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Nurse Wade has remarkable insight,” Travers whispered to me as we went. + +“I can believe it,” I answered. + +“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?” + +“She is somewhat the same type,” I began, “as Mrs.--” + +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?” + +“It is certainly rather a feeble crop for a woman of her age,” I +admitted. “And pale at that, and washy.” + +“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?” + +“Very,” I replied. “Not exactly a stoop, nor yet quite a hunch, but +certainly an odd spinal configuration.” + +“Like our friend's, once more?” + +“Like our friend's, exactly!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“That is because you know less about it than Nurse Wade,” Travers +answered, with an annoying smile of superior knowledge. + +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.” + +“It is certainly odd,” I answered, “how very much they both recall--” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“They can pierce like a dagger,” I mused. + +“And leave an open wound behind that requires dressing,” Travers added, +unsuspecting. Practical man, Travers! + +“But WHY do they get assaulted--the women of this type?” I asked, still +bewildered. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“How did it all happen?” Travers asked, in a jaunty tone, to draw her +out. + +“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.” + +“Oh, she has a tongue, has she?” Travers replied, surveying the “case” + critically. “Well, you know, she looks like it.” + +“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.” + +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!” + +“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. + +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. + +“Say to it?” I answered. “That it is wonderful, wonderful. You have +quite convinced me.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +I felt really perturbed. “But can we do nothing,” I cried, “to warn poor +Hugo?” + +“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?” + +“Then is there not also a type of men who assault their wives?” + +“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.” + +“But surely we might caution Le Geyt of his danger!” + +“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.” + +“You think so?” + +“I am sure of it. We human beings go straight like sheep to our natural +destiny.” + +“But--that is fatalism.” + +“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.” + + + +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.” + +“She knows enough to know when she doesn't know,” I answered, “which is +really the rarest kind of knowledge.” + +“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!” + +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.” + +“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!” + +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. + +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.” + +“Clara, dear,” the husband said, “shall we go in to lunch?” + +“You dear, stupid boy! Are we not all waiting for YOU to give your arm +to Lady Maitland?” + +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_ +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. + +“Only you ought to explain, Clara--” Le Geyt began, in a deprecatory +tone. + +“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!” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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?” + +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_ 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?” + +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--” + +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.” + +“What a charming hostess Mrs. Le Geyt makes,” the painter observed to +me, after lunch. “Such tact! Such discrimination!... AND, what a devoted +stepmother!” + +“She is one of the local secretaries of the Society for the Prevention +of Cruelty to Children,” I said, drily. + +“And charity begins at home,” Hilda Wade added, in a significant aside. + +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!” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +I started. “You think not?” + +“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!” + +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_ require is +CHEERFUL obedience.” + +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. + +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! + +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!” + +“You said within twelve months.” + +“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!” + + + +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. + +“But not yet gone,” she answered; and a profound sense of foreboding +spread over her speaking face as she uttered the words. + +Her oracle disquieted me. “Why, I dined there last night,” I cried; “and +all seemed exceptionally well.” + +“The calm before the storm, perhaps,” she murmured. + +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!” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +“He will NOT be hanged,” my witch answered, with the same unquestioning +confidence as ever. + +“Why not?” I asked, astonished once more at this bold prediction. + +She went on bandaging the arm of the patient whom she was attending. +“Because... he will commit suicide,” she replied, without moving a +muscle. + +“How do you know that?” + +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.” + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE EPISODE OF THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT COMMIT SUICIDE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +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!” + +She said “disaster,” not “crime”; I noted mentally the reservation +implied in the word. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“The General was killed in India during the Mutiny.” + +“I remember, of course--killed, bravely fighting.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“You are right,” I admitted, after a minute's consideration. “I see it +now--though I should never have thought of it.” + +“That is the use of being a woman,” she answered. + +I waited a second once more, and mused. “Still, that is only one +doubtful case,” I objected. + +“There was another, you must remember: his uncle Alfred.” + +“Alfred Le Geyt?” + +“No; HE died in his bed, quietly. Alfred Faskally.” + +“What a memory you have!” I cried, astonished. “Why, that was before our +time--in the days of the Chartist riots!” + +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.” + +“You remember it directly?” + +“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.” + +“So have I--but I forget it.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Luck in their suicides! What a curious phrase! And you say, ALWAYS. +Were there other cases, then?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“Le Geyt is not a coward,” I interposed, with warmth. + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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!” + +“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. + +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.” + +“That is true,” I answered, lip-reading. “I never thought of that +either.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +Mrs. Mallet braced herself up visibly to a distressing effort. “You have +seen the body, Dr. Cumberledge?” she faltered. + +“No, dear Mrs. Mallet, I have not. I came straight from Nathaniel's. I +have had no time to see it.” + +“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.” + +I nodded assent. “Exactly; I have seen it there.” + +“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.” + +I bowed my head. “For us who knew Hugo that goes without saying.” + +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?” + +“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--” + +Hilda Wade finished the sentence for me as I paused: “Hugo Le Geyt +consent to advance it.” + +I lowered my head. “You have said it,” I answered. + +“Not for the children's sake?” Mrs. Mallet cried, with clasped hands. + +“Not for the children's sake, even,” I answered. “Consider for a moment, +Mrs. Mallet: IS it true? Do you yourself BELIEVE it?” + +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!” + +“The real wonder is,” Hilda murmured, soothing her white hand, “that he +contained himself so long!” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Where do you think he has taken refuge?” + +“The police, Dr. Sebastian has ascertained, are watching the railway +stations, and the ports for the Continent.” + +“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!” + +“You think he has not gone there, then?” I cried, deeply interested. + +“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.” + +“Where, then?” + +“WHERE comes last; HOW first. It is a question of inference.” + +“Explain. We know your powers.” + +“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.” + +“No, no!” Mrs. Mallet cried. “To bring him back voluntarily, that he may +face his trial like a man!” + +“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.” + +“You are probably right,” I answered. “But would he have a razor?” + +“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.” + +“The first country town?” + +“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.” + +“But not by rail, you say?” + +“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.” + +“But has his bicycle gone?” + +“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.” + +“He is too good a criminal lawyer to have dreamt of taking his own,” + Mrs. Mallet interposed, with another effort. + +“But where could he have hired or bought one at that time of night?” I +exclaimed. + +“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.” + +“And then?” + +“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.” + +“Great Western or South-Western? Why those two in particular? Then, you +have settled in your own mind which direction he has taken?” + +“Pretty well. I judge by analogy. Lina, your brother was brought up in +the West Country, was he not?” + +Mrs. Mallet gave a weary nod. “In North Devon,” she answered; “on the +wild stretch of moor about Hartland and Clovelly.” + +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!” + +“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.” + +“And the Le Geyts are always governed by first impulses,” my +character-reader added. + +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. + +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?” + +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.” + +“The very thing! Has he visited it since he grew up?” + +“To my knowledge, never.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“And the other thing?” + +“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_ 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.” + +“What an extraordinary insight into character you have!” I cried. +“You seem to divine what everybody's action will be under given +circumstances.” + +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_ 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.” + +“In one word,” I said, “you are a psychologist.” + +“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?” + +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. + +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.” + +“I will find him,” I answered, “if he is anywhere within twenty miles of +Hartland.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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! + +A very ordinary person; and Le Geyt bore the stamp of a born gentleman. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +But some strange hand restrained me. Who was I that I should stand +between Hugo Le Geyt and the ways of Providence? + +The Le Geyts loved ever the ordeal by water. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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?” + +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!” + +“You forget all there?” + +“I forget IT--the red horror!” + +“You meant just now to drown yourself?” + +“No! If I had meant it I would have done it.... Hubert, for my +children's sake, I WILL not commit suicide!” + +“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! + +“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.” + +“Not for the children's sake?” + +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?” + +“Dear Hugo--I know all; and to know all is to forgive all.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +It was the only sentence in which he ever alluded to her. + +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. + +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.” + +“You will come back to London, then, and stand your trial?” I asked, +eagerly. + +“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!” + +I answered nothing. I left him to face his own remorse in silence. + +At last he rose to go, and held one foot undecided on his bicycle. + +“I leave myself in Heaven's hands,” he said, as he lingered. “IT will +requite.... The ordeal is by water.” + +“So I judged,” I answered. + +“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.” + +He mounted his machine and sailed off. My eyes followed him up the path +with sad forebodings. + +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. + +One of the men was Le Geyt, the other a fisherman. + +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. + +“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!” + +“Will he reach it?” I asked, anxiously, having my own idea on the +subject. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +I did not realise at the time with what profound depth of personal +feeling she said it. + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE EPISODE OF THE NEEDLE THAT DID NOT MATCH + + +“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.” + +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.” + +“And he has done splendid work for humanity,” I went on, growing +enthusiastic. + +“Splendid work! Yes, splendid! (Two lumps, I believe?) He has done more, +I admit, for medical science than any other man I ever met.” + +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.” + +She passed me the muffins, and smiled her restrained smile. + +“Does the desire to do good to humanity in itself imply a benevolent +disposition?” she answered, obliquely. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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.” + +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.” + +“How do you mean? You ARE so enigmatic!” + +“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.” + +“Then you mean to say it is chance that has made Sebastian?” + +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.” + +“I see,” I said. “The aim of medicine happens to be a benevolent one.” + +“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!' + +“Not good?” + +“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.” + +“Sebastian would not do that,” I cried. “He is wholly free from the mean +spirit of jealousy.” + +“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.” + +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?” + +A cloud passed over her brow. “I have reason to know it,” she answered, +slowly. Then her voice changed. “Take another muffin.” + +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!” + +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!” + +“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--” + +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.” + +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--” + +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.” + +“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--” + +At that moment, as unkindly fate would have it, the door opened, and +Sebastian entered. + +“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.” + +The golden opportunity had come and gone. It was long before I found a +similar occasion for speaking to Hilda. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +_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. + +“You remember Yorke-Bannerman's case,” he went on. “He committed a +murder--” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +“And _I_ know, too,” Hilda answered, in a voice of placid confidence. + +“Yet you are not afraid?” + +“It is not _I_ who have cause for fear. The accused may tremble, not the +prosecutor.” + +“What! You threaten?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“I came for my clinical,” I answered, with an unconcerned air. “I have +somehow managed to mislay it in the laboratory.” + +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?” + +“The woman in 93? Delirious?” + +“No, no. Nurse Wade?” + +“Hear her?” I echoed, I must candidly admit with intent to deceive. +“When she broke the basin?” + +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!” + +“She is the most intelligent nurse we have ever had in the place, sir,” + I objected, stoutly. + +He nodded his head twice. “Intelligent--je vous l'accorde; but +dangerous--dangerous!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“Of Nurse Wade?” I asked, catching my breath. + +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.” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +“Yes, I saw you.” + +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.” + +“In a culture?” I asked; for I guessed her meaning. + +She nodded. “Yes, to see what that man has done to it.” + +“What do you suspect?” + +She shrugged her graceful shoulders half imperceptibly. + +“How should I know? Anything!” + +I gazed at the needle closely. “What made you distrust it?” I inquired +at last, still eyeing it. + +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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“That was wonderfully quick of you!” + +“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.” + +“You think it is poisoned, then?” + +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.” + +“Fifteen years ago he used poison?” + +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.” + +“And what do you suspect now?” I asked, the weird sense of her strange +power deepening on me every second. + +She held up the incriminated needle again. + +“Do you see this groove?” she asked, pointing to it with the tip of +another. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Which was?” + +“Try the needle, and judge for yourself. I prefer you should find out. +You can tell me to-morrow.” + +“It was quick of you to detect it!” I cried, still turning the +suspicious object over. “The difference is so slight.” + +“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.” + +“Still, Hilda, I am loth--” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +“Blood-poisoning!” I ejaculated, horror-struck. + +“Aye; blood-poisoning: that's the English of it.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +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.” + +“You anticipated that result?” + +“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.” + +I gazed at her, uncertain. “And what will you DO?” I asked. “Expose +him?” + +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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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--” + +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!” + +It was the first time she had ever called me by my Christian name. The +mere sound of the word made me unspeakably happy. + +Yet she waved me away. “Must I go?” I asked, quivering. + +“Yes, yes: you must go. I cannot stand it. I must think this thing out, +undisturbed. It is a very great crisis.” + +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. + +“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? + + +“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, + +“HILDA.” + + +It was a hurried scrawl in pencil, as if written in a train. I felt +utterly dejected. Was Hilda, then, leaving England? + +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. + +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!” + +“She retains that hold upon me, sir,” I answered curtly. + +“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.” + +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. + +“You do not believe it? I tell you it is so. The girl herself as good as +acknowledged it to me.” + +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_ 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.” + +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.” + +Even at that moment of detection and disgrace, in one man's eyes, at +least, Sebastian retained his full measure of dignity. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE EPISODE OF THE LETTER WITH THE BASINGSTOKE POSTMARK + + +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_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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? + +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. + +“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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Ha? Looked black, did it?” I faltered. + +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. + +“I believe the Crown urged money as the motive?” I suggested. + +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.” + +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.” + +He gave a quick start. “What, Maisie?” he exclaimed. + +I shook my head. “No, no; that is not the name,” I replied. + +He hesitated a moment. “But there IS no other,” he hazarded cautiously +at last. “I knew the family.” + +“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.” + +“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_ +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!” + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“With aconitine?” I suggested, eagerly. + +“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.” + +“What! Sebastian found it out?” I cried, starting. + +“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.” + +“And you BELIEVE that, Mr. Mayfield?” + +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.” + +“But it was never tried,” I ejaculated. + +“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.” + +“You think, then, the case would have gone against him?” + +“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. + +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--” + +He smiled this time till I thought his smile would swallow him. + +“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?” + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +“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, + +“CHARLOTTE CHURTWOOD.” + + +In the corner was the address: “11, Chubb's Cottages, Basingstoke.” + +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. + +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. + +“Do you know what train the lady was in?” I asked, as she paused. “Where +was it going, did you notice?” + +“It was the Southampton train, sir. I saw the board on the carriage.” + +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.” + +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? + +No; nobody of that name on the list. + +Had any lady taken a passage at the last moment? + +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. + +What sort of lady? + +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. + +“That will do,” I answered, sure now of my quarry. “To which port did +she book?” + +“To Cape Town.” + +“Very well,” I said, promptly. “You may reserve me a good berth in the +next outgoing steamer.” + +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. + +Ten days later, I was afloat on the Channel, bound for South Africa. + +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. + +“Dr. Cumberledge?” he said, in an inquiring tone. + +I nodded. “That is my name.” + +“I have a letter for you, sir.” + +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. + +I tore it open and read: + + +“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. + +“Your ever attached and grateful, + +“HILDA.” + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I could hardly believe my eyes. Civilisation indeed! A bicycle in these +remotest wilds of Africa! + +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! + +One moment later I had burst into a wild cry, and rode forward to her +hurriedly. “Hilda!” I shouted aloud, in my excitement: “Hilda!” + +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. + +“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!” + +“Then you are not angry with me?” I cried. “You remember, you forbade +me!” + +“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!” + +“And yet you begged me not to follow you!” + +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!” + +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.” + +“Which means to say, Hilda, that, after all, you are still a woman!” + +“A woman; oh, yes; very much a woman! Hubert, I love you; I half wish I +did not.” + +“Why, darling?” I drew her to me. + +“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.” + +“Then divide it,” I cried gaily; “do neither; come away with me!” + +“No, no; nor that, either. I will not stultify my whole past life. I +will not dishonour my dear father's memory.” + +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. + +“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. + +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?” + +“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?” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“Why fruitless?” I asked, leaning forward. + +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.” + +“Hilda,” I cried, “you are a witch! How COULD you know that? I can't +imagine.” + +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.” + +“And yet,” I said, “he is so great.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“Most people think to be complex is to be great,” I objected. + +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.” + +“Then you knew I would come,” I exclaimed, half pleased to find I +belonged inferentially to her higher category. + +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.” + +“So you believed in me?” + +“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.” + +“You know I know all--because Sebastian told me?” + +“Yes; and I think I even know how you answered him.” + +“How?” + +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.” + +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. + +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?” + +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!” + +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?” + +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!” + +“I believe it already,” I answered. “What need, then, to prove it?” + +“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!” + +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.” + +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.'” + +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.” + +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! + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE EPISODE OF THE STONE THAT LOOKED ABOUT IT + + +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. + +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. + +“Then you live here?” I cried, gazing round--my voice, I suppose, +betraying my latent sense of the unworthiness of the position. + +“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.” + +“That is an unkind conjunction!” I exclaimed, reddening. + +“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.” + +“You are cruel, Hilda!” + +“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.” + +“Upset your plans? How?” + +“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_ 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.” + +“I never thought of that!” I cried, aghast. + +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.” + +I was mutely penitent. “And yet, you forgive me, Hilda?” + +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.” + +“What are you doing at this farm?” I gazed round at it, dissatisfied. + +“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.” + +“And what am _I_ to do?” I cried, oppressed with a sudden sense of +helplessness. + +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?” + +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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +Her smile was not wholly without a touch of triumph. + +“In that case,” she went on, “I suppose the only alternative is for you +to remain here.” + +“That would appear to be logic,” I replied. “But what can I do? Set up +in practice?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +I saw at once what this meant. A rising of the Matabele! + +I had come back from Salisbury, unknowing it, into the midst of a revolt +of bloodthirsty savages. + +Yet, even if I had known, I must still have hurried home with all speed +to Klaas's--to protect Hilda. + +Hilda? Where was Hilda? A breathless sinking crept over me. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I called the name aloud: “Hilda! Hilda! Hilda!” + +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! + +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!” + +“Are they gone?” she asked, staring about her with a terrified air, +though still strangely preserving her wonted composure of manner. + +“Who gone? The Matabele?” + +“Yes, yes!” + +“Did you see them, Hilda?” + +“For a moment--with black shields and assegais, all shouting madly. You +have been to the house, Hubert? You know what has happened?” + +“Yes, yes, I know--a rising. They have massacred the Klaases.” + +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.” + +“It is a perfect deception,” I answered, admiring her instinctive +cleverness even then. “I never so much as noticed you.” + +“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!” + +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?” + +“It is the only thing possible--if my machine is unhurt. They may have +taken it... or ridden over and broken it.” + +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.” + +“Give her bread,” Hilda suggested. “That will hearten her more than +corn. There is plenty in the house; Tant Mettie baked this morning.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +I hesitated. “You CAN'T go in there again, Hilda!” I cried. “Wait, and +let me do it.” + +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. + +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. + +“I must take the baby,” I said. + +She shook her head. + +“Oh, no. I will not trust her to you.” + +“Hilda, I insist.” + +“And I insist, too. It is my place to take her.” + +“But can you ride so?” I asked, anxiously. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“They may have sacked Salisbury!” I exclaimed at last, looking out +towards the brand-new town. + +“I doubt it,” Hilda answered. Her very doubt reassured me. + +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! + +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! + +“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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +“Then YOU must take the pony,” I called out, “and let me have the +bicycle!” + +“You couldn't ride it,” she called back. “It is a woman's machine, +remember.” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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! + +After a second, I asked once more, with bated breath, “Is he gaining?” + +She looked back. “Yes; gaining.” + +A pause. “And now?” + +“Still gaining. He is poising an assegai.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +“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!” + +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!” + +“How do you know?” I gasped. But I believed her. + +“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!” + +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!” + +The men let their rifles drop, and rode down towards us. “Who are you?” + I cried. + +They saluted us, military fashion. “Matabele police, sah,” the leader +answered, recognising me. “You are flying from Klaas's?” + +“Yes,” I answered. “They have murdered Klaas, with his wife and child. +Some of them are now following us.” + +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!” + +“The Salisbury people know of this rising, then?” I asked. + +“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.” + +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. + +Suddenly, Hilda's voice came wafted to me, as through a mist. “What are +you doing, Hubert? You'll be off in a minute!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +As the words fell from his lips, I saw the face. I gave a quick little +start, then recovered my composure. + +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. + +“Seen whom?” + +“Sebastian.” + +It was useless denying it to HER. “Yes, I have seen him,” I answered, in +a confidential aside. + +“Just now--this moment--at the back of the house--looking in at the +window upon us?” + +“You are right--as always.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +Hilda's face was like a drowned man's. + +“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?” + +“Still, I am loth to believe--” I cried. + +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.” + +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. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE EPISODE OF THE EUROPEAN WITH THE KAFFIR HEART + + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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?” + +“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?” + +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?” + +“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.” + +“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_ 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!” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“But Sebastian himself?” I urged. “Take him first, in isolation.” + +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.” + +“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?” + +“Sebastian? Oh, no; that is the absolute antipodes of his type and +temperament.” + +“He will never give up because of a temporary check, you think?” + +“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.” + +“I see; but having failed in that?” + +“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.” + +“But taking Sebastian himself; alone?” + +“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.'” + +“Who is no tactician?” I murmured, half aloud. + +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?'” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +She reflected once more. “Do you mean to say anything of our suspicions +in Salisbury, Hubert?” she asked at last. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“I shall give in my name with the rest,” I answered. + +“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.” + +“They will shoot him red-handed if they catch him,” I answered +confidently. “A white man who sides with the blacks in an insurrection!” + +“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.” + +“Why so, Hilda?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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.” + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Then you should never let them get to close quarters,” I suggested, +catching the general drift of his inarticulate swift pictures. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Experience?” Colebrook asked in his brief shorthand of speech, running +his ferret eyes over me. + +“None,” I answered; “but a noiseless tread and a capacity for crawling +through holes in hedges which may perhaps be useful.” + +He glanced inquiry at Doolittle, who was a shorter and stouter man, with +a knack of getting over obstacles by sheer forcefulness. + +“Hands and knees!” he said, abruptly, in the imperative mood, pointing +to a clump of dry grass with thorny bushes ringed about it. + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +He nodded assent. “Couldn't see him,” he said shortly. “But he's there, +right enough. White man. Heard 'em talk of him.” + +“What did they say?” I asked, eagerly. + +“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.” + +“They said that?” I exclaimed, taken aback. “Kill all the white women!” + +“Yes. Kill all. White witches, every one. The young ones worst. Word of +the great induna.” + +“And you could not see him?” + +“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.” + +“What sort of voice? Like this?” And I imitated Sebastian's cold, +clear-cut tone as well as I was able. + +“The man! That's him, Doctor. You've got him down to the ground. The +very voice. Heard him giving orders.” + +That settled the question. I was certain of it now. Sebastian was with +the insurgents. + +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?” + +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. + +“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!” + +“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!” + +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!” + +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! + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +I seized Colebrook's arm, almost speechless with anger. “The white man!” + I cried. “The traitor!” + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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!” + +On we rode, still gaining. “Now, now,” I cried, “we shall catch him!” + +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. + +He had gained a little by his shots, but we soon caught it up. Once more +I said, “We are on him!” + +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. + +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. + +“We have him now!” I cried, in a voice of triumph. And Colebrook echoed, +“We have him!” + +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!” + +“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!” + +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. + +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!” + +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? + +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!” + +I saw our mistake at once. We had left our companion out there alone, +rendered helpless by the care of all three horses. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +“Yes; how did you know?” + +“I read it in your step. But I guessed as much before. He is so very +keen; and you started too confident.” + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE EPISODE OF THE LADY WHO WAS VERY EXCLUSIVE + + +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. + +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. + +“You will go home, of course?” I said to Hilda, when we came to talk it +all over. + +She shook her head. “To England? Oh, no. I must pursue my Plan. +Sebastian will have gone home; he expects me to follow.” + +“And why don't you?” + +“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.” + +“Where?” + +“Why do you ask, Hubert?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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_ 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.” + +“My dear Hubert, have I ever denied that I was a woman?” + +“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.” + +“Dear Hubert, I am ruining your life!” + +“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.” + +She smiled, and came back to earth. “Oh, if you MUST know, to India, by +the east coast, changing steamers at Aden.” + +“Extraordinary!” I cried. “Do you know, Hilda, as luck will have it, _I_ +also shall be on my way to Bombay by the very same steamer!” + +“But you don't know what steamer it is?” + +“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.” + +She looked up at me with a gathering film in her eyes. “Hubert, you are +irrepressible!” + +“I am, my dear child; so you may as well spare yourself the needless +trouble of trying to repress me.” + +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! + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Now do be serious, Hubert! I am going to invent an object in life for +us.” + +“What object?” + +“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.” + +“And am I to attach myself to her, too?” + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“Don't talk nonsense. It is YOU who are wandering from the question now. +Please return to it.” + +I returned at once. “So I am to depend on what turns up?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“Well, what?” I answered, unsuspecting. + +“I told you everything turned up at the end!” she said, confidently. +“Look at the lady's nose!” + +“It does turn up at the end--certainly,” I answered, glancing back at +her. “But I hardly see--” + +“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.” + +“Her nose tells you that?” + +“Her nose, in part; but her face as a whole, too, her dress, her chair, +her mental attitude to things in general.” + +“My dear Hilda, you can't mean to tell me you have divined her whole +nature at a glance, by magic!” + +“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.” + +“You have been astonishingly quick!” I cried. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +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. + +“Why do you think she is EXCLUSIVE?” I asked Hilda as we strolled on +towards the stern, out of the spoilt child's hearing. + +“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.” + +“Now, Hilda, that is the first time I have ever known you to show any +feminine ill-nature!” + +“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.” + +“You have decided quickly.” + +“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.” + +“But she seems so complaining!” I interposed. “I'm afraid, if you take +her on, you'll get terribly bored with her.” + +“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.” + +“All things, Hilda?” I asked, meaningly, with a little tremor of +delight. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“Of course not. You forget. There my memory comes in. I simply remember +it.” + +“You remember it? How?” + +“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.'” + +“Clitheroe--Gubbins; what on earth has that to do with it? That would be +Mrs. Gubbins: this is Lady Meadowcroft.” + +“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.' + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Really, Hilda, you know everything about everybody! And what do you +suppose they're going to India for?” + +“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.” + +“They don't seem inclined to give us much chance of talking,” I +objected. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“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. + +“You have had relations in Burma?” Lady Meadowcroft persisted. + +I manifested a desire to discontinue the conversation. “Yes,” I +answered, coldly, “my uncle commanded there.” + +“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.” + +“He was a certain Sir Malcolm Tepping,” I blurted out, staring hard at +my plate. + +“Tepping! I think I have heard Dick speak of him, Ivor.” + +“Your cousin,” Sir Ivor answered, with emphatic dignity, “is certain to +have mixed with nobbut the highest officials in Burma.” + +“Yes, I'm sure Dick used to speak of a certain Sir Malcolm. My cousin's +name, Dr. Cumberledge, was Maltby--Captain Richard Maltby.” + +“Indeed,” I answered, with an icy stare. “I cannot pretend to the +pleasure of having met him.” + +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. + +“Oh, dear, no,” I answered, with a glassy smile. “We are not connected +in any way.” + +“But you are travelling together!” + +“Merely as you and I are travelling together--fellow-passengers on the +same steamer.” + +“Still, you have met before.” + +“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. + +“And what are you both going to do when you get to India?” + +“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.” + +“Then you are not going out to take an appointment?” + +“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!” + +I waited a second. “No,” I answered, slowly. “I have not been practising +of late. I am looking about me. I travel for enjoyment.” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“A delightful book!” Hilda answered. “The Buddhist Praying Wheel, by +William Simpson.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +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.” + +“Nervous about what?” + +“About disease, chiefly. She has the temperament that dreads +infection--and therefore catches it.” + +“Why do you think so?” + +“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.” + +“And you attach importance to her fear?” + +“Of course. I count upon it as probably our chief means of catching and +fixing her.” + +“As how?” + +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.” + +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.” + +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!” + +“Why not?” he asked, astonished. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“Then you positively refuse?” he asked, wistfully, drawing back. I could +see he stood in a certain dread of that imperious little woman. + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +Hilda looked up at her calmly. “Not in the least,” she answered. “I have +nursed hundreds of cases.” + +“Oh, my, how dreadful! And never caught it?” + +“Never. I am not afraid, you see.” + +“I wish _I_ wasn't! Hundreds of cases! It makes one ill to think of +it!... And all successfully?” + +“Almost all of them.” + +“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. + +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.” + +“You really mean it?” Her face was pleading. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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--” + +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.” + +“Which only shows,” Lady Meadowcroft broke in, “that one ought always to +have a LADY to nurse one.” + +“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. + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“But do you think you will be able to stand her?” I asked. + +“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.” + +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. + +“How's the plague at Bombay now?” an inquisitive passenger inquired of +the Captain at dinner our last night out. “Getting any better?” + +Lady Meadowcroft's thumb dived between her fingers again. “What! is +there plague in Bombay?” she asked, innocently, in her nervous fashion. + +“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.” + +“A microbe, I believe, Dr. Boyell,” the inquisitive passenger observed +deferentially, with due respect for medical science. + +“Yes,” the ship's doctor answered, helping himself to an olive. “Forty +million microbes to each square inch of the Bombay atmosphere.” + +“And we are going to Bombay!” Lady Meadowcroft exclaimed, aghast. + +“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.” + +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_ +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.” + +“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.” + +“Oh, only a nurse--” Lady Meadowcroft began, and then coloured up +deeply, with a side glance at Hilda. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“Not a bit of it!” the Captain answered, with provoking cheerfulness. +“Rampaging about like a roaring lion all over India!” + +Lady Meadowcroft's thumb must have suffered severely. The nails dug into +it as if it were someone else's. + +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?” + +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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +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!” + +So Hilda won her point; and what was best, won it fairly. + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE EPISODE OF THE GUIDE WHO KNEW THE COUNTRY + + +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. + +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. + +The only thing that did NOT bore her, indeed, was Hilda's bright talk. + +“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_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +“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_ 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.” + +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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +“But, Ivor, I don't want to be skinned alive! I'm not an eel, please!” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“What do you make of our guide?” I asked of Hilda on our fourth day out. +I began somehow to distrust him. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“Goodness gracious!” Lady Meadowcroft cried, clinging tight to Hilda. +“Miss Wade, this is dreadful! Where on earth have you brought us to?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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!” + +“Why do you think so?” I asked, low. + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“What does he, say?” I asked, as soon as he had finished speaking. + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“What is his answer?” I asked the cook, in my haughtiest voice. I am +haughty with difficulty. + +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.” + +“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.” + +The fat priest spoke again. “What does he say this time?” I asked. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +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. + +“But--OUGHT we to save our lives? Oughtn't we to be... well, Christian +martyrs?” + +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.” + +“But... really... I'm afraid...” + +“Don't be afraid of anything, dear, or you will risk all. Follow my +lead; _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!” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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! + +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.” + +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.” + +They kept their countenances with admirable decorum. + +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. + +Then I opened our stores, and drew out with a flourish--our last +remaining bottle of Simla soda-water. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“What is Karma?” I asked, listlessly. + +“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.” + +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. + +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!” + +“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!” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +“Why so?” I asked, as astonished as I was pleased. + +“Priest-sahib say, he like you very much; oh, very, very much; no want +to see village people kill you.” + +“Kill us! But I thought they believed we were saints!” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Not Ram Das?” I asked, suspiciously. + +“No, not Ram Das. Very good man--Tibetan.” + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE EPISODE OF THE OFFICER WHO UNDERSTOOD PERFECTLY + + +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.” + +She seemed to think that orchids originated in Covent Garden. + +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. + +“Ask him what he wants,” I cried, turning to our fair-weather friend, +the cook. + +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?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Where did you learn English?” I exclaimed, more and more astonished. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Plague?” I repeated, startled. He nodded. + +“Yes, plague; all same like dem hab him so bad down Bombay way.” + +“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. + +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.” + +“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?” + +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. + +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.” + +“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?” + +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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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! + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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!” + +I spoke again, bending over him. “How long have the glandular swellings +been present, Professor?” I asked, with quiet deliberativeness. + +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!” + +“WHO told you I was dead?” I asked, sternly. + +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.” + +“He told you a lie,” I said, shortly. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +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!” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“And may the just side win,” I answered, solemnly. + +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. + +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.” + +“Thank God for that!” Hilda said, and glided away silently. + +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.” + +“I wish they would move you to tell the truth,” I answered. + +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!” + +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. + +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.” + +“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. + +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.” + +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. + +“And now, what do you mean to do?” I asked Hilda, when our patient was +placed in other hands, and all was over. + +She answered me without one second's hesitation: “Go straight to Bombay, +and wait there till Sebastian takes passage for England.” + +“He will go home, you think, as soon as he is well enough?” + +“Undoubtedly. He has now nothing more to stop in India for.” + +“Why not as much as ever?” + +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.” + +“Then when he engages a berth, you propose to go by the same steamer?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +The clerk produced it. + +I scanned it in haste. To my surprise and delight, a pencilled entry +half-way down the list gave the name, “Professor Sebastian.” + +“Oh, Sebastian is going by this steamer?” I murmured, looking up. + +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.” + +“Or wishes to avoid,” I thought to myself, inwardly; but I did not say +so. I asked instead, “Is he coming again?” + +“Yes, I think so: at 5.30.” + +“And she sails at seven?” + +“At seven, punctually. Passengers must be aboard by half-past six at +latest.” + +“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.” + +“You don't want a passage, sir? You may be the friend he's expecting.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“Professor Sebastian been here again?” I asked. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +The sandy-haired man did look sharp; and within three minutes we were +driving off with our tickets to Prince's Dock landing-stage. + +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. + +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--” + +“What a lovely evening, Hubert!” Hilda said to me, in an apparently +unconcerned voice, as the Professor reached this point in his +exposition. + +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!” + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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!” + +“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.” + +“We can't see the Ushant light,” Hilda remarked, looking ahead. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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. + +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.” + +“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. + +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!” + +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.” + +The first officer shrugged his shoulders. There was no time for protest. +“Next, then,” he said, quickly. “Miss Martin--Miss Weatherly!” + +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!” + +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. + +Hilda loosened his grasp resolutely. “No, no,” she answered, “I cannot +fly. I shall never leave you.” + +“Not even if I promise--” + +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.” + +His gaze was now pure admiration. “As you will,” he answered. “For he +that loseth his life shall gain it.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +I bent over and felt his pulse. As far as I could make out, it still +beat feebly. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE EPISODE OF THE DEAD MAN WHO SPOKE + + + +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. + +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?” + +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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +Sebastian opened his eyes dreamily. “A boat?” he asked. + +“Yes, a boat!” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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!” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“So I think. The change is but temporary. He will not last out three +days more, I fancy.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“But you hated once to see me!” + +“Because I have so wronged you.” + +“And now? Will you do nothing to repair the wrong?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +Sebastian shrank back. “Given before witnesses, and signed and sworn to! +Maisie, is this humiliation necessary; do you exact it?” + +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?” + +He paused and struggled. “I could--if it were not for you,” he answered. + +“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. + +He paused once more. Then he murmured feebly, in a querulous tone, “What +witnesses? Whom do you wish to be present?” + +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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“And then--the delay! Suppose that we are too late?” + +“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.” + +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.” + +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.” + +“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?” + +The great Q.C. fingered his cigarette-holder affectionately. + +“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.” + +“But surely a confession--” + +“Ah, well, let me hear the confession, and then I shall be better able +to judge.” + +Even as he spoke Hilda had entered the room. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +But such distinctions are too subtle for a loving woman. + +“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.” + +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. + +The stimulant brought a shade of colour into his ghastly cheeks, and the +old quick, intelligent gleam came back into his deep sunk eyes. + +“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.” + +He paused for breath, and she gave him another small sip of the brandy. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“'The patient,' said he, 'is my uncle, Admiral Scott Prideaux.' + +“'Your uncle!' I cried, in amazement. 'But how came he to develop such a +condition?' + +“'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.' + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +Hilda was listening, with a set, white face. + +“Proceed!” said she, and held out the brandy once more. + +“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.” + +“Proceed!” said she. + +“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!” + +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: + + + This is our Master, famous, calm, and dead, + Borne on our shoulders. + + +Hilda Wade, standing beside me, with an awestruck air, added a stanza +from the same great poem: + + + Lofty designs must close in like effects: + Loftily lying, + Leave him--still loftier than the world suspects, + Living and dying. + + +I gazed at her with admiration. “And it is YOU, Hilda, who pay him this +generous tribute!” I cried, “YOU, of all women!” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + + + + + +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 4903-0.txt or 4903-0.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 + +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. 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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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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: June 1, 2014] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILDA WADE *** + + + + +Produced by Don Lainson + + + + + +HILDA WADE + +A WOMAN WITH TENACITY OF PURPOSE + + +By Grant Allen + + +1899 + + + + +PUBLISHERS' NOTE + +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. + + + + +HILDA WADE + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE EPISODE OF THE PATIENT WHO DISAPPOINTED HER DOCTOR + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +Hilda Wade herself I will not formally introduce to you: you will learn +to know her as I proceed with my story. + +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." + +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: + +"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!" + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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--" + +"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!" + +"You are right," I answered. "I believe she means it. Yet I know one man +at least--" for I admired her immensely. + +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!" + +"And it is?" + +"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." + +"It is very odd," I mused. "But there!--women are inexplicable!" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +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." + +"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!" + +"Intuition," I answered. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"Your principle?" Sebastian asked our sibyl, in his brief, quick way. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"Dare we try it on a human subject?" I asked, tentatively. + +Hilda Wade answered at once, with that unerring rapidity of hers: "Yes, +certainly; on a few--the right persons. _I_, for one, am not afraid to +try it." + +"You?" I cried, feeling suddenly aware how much I thought of her. "Oh, +not YOU, please, Nurse Wade. Some other life, less valuable!" + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +That evening, by six o'clock, she was quite well and able to go about +her duties as usual. + +"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." + +"Coolness?" she inquired, in a quiet voice. "Or cruelty?" + +"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!" + +"Of philanthropy, or of science? To alleviate pain, or to learn the +whole truth about the human body?" + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +He lay long asleep. Hilda and I watched him. + +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. + +"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. + +"That is why God gave men moustaches," she mused, in a low voice; "to +hide the cruel corners of their mouths." + +"Not ALWAYS cruel," I cried. + +"Sometimes cruel, sometimes cunning, sometimes sensuous; but nine times +out of ten best masked by moustaches." + +"You have a bad opinion of our sex!" I exclaimed. + +"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!" + +On second thought, I did not feel sure that I could quarrel with her +estimate. + +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." + +"Would you call him impassioned?" I asked. "Most people think him so +cold and stern." + +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." + +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." + +"And a tobacco-trimmer by trade," Sebastian added, sarcastically. + +As usual, Hilda's was the truer description. It went deeper. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +The patient's dark face flushed crimson. + +"Ah! Arthur," she cried. "Dear Arthur! I can bear anything you choose to +do to me--for Arthur!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"She WILL live to marry him," I answered, with confidence like her own, +"if YOU say she can stand it." + +"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." + +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." + +"A successful operation, certainly!" the great surgeon admitted, with +just pride in the Master's commendation. + +"AND the patient?" Hilda asked, wavering. + +"Oh, the patient? The patient will die," Nielsen replied, in an +unconcerned voice, wiping his spotless instruments. + +"That is not MY idea of the medical art," I cried, shocked at his +callousness. "An operation is only successful if--" + +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?" + +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." + +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. + +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? + +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! + +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." + +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." + +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!" + +"Call me Hilda, please! Hilda!" + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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. + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"What is that?" I asked. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"A hundred and three." + +I shook my head. Every symptom of fatal relapse. I could not imagine +what card Hilda held in reserve. But I stood there, waiting. + +She whispered in the girl's ear: "Arthur's ship is sighted off the +Lizard." + +The patient opened her eyes slowly, and rolled them for a moment as if +she did not understand. + +"Too late!" I cried. "Too late! She is delirious--insensible!" + +Hilda repeated the words slowly, but very distinctly. "Do you hear, +dear? Arthur's ship... it is sighted.... Arthur's ship... at the +Lizard." + +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. + +"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." + +She struggled up for a second. A smile flitted across the worn face. +Then she fell back wearily. + +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." + +"Yes, dear. Now sleep. He is coming." + +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. + +"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." + +"Seen him!" the girl gasped. + +"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." + +The wan lips quivered. "He will NEVER marry me!" + +"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." + +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. + + + +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--" + +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." + +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." + +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." + +"Forgive my persistence," I replied; "but--her temperature has gone down +to ninety-nine and a trifle." + +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!" + +"But surely, sir--" I cried. + +"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." + +"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." + +He snapped his fingers. "Lethodyne! pooh! I have lost interest in it. +Impracticable! It is not fitted for the human species." + +"Why so? Number Fourteen proves--" + +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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE EPISODE OF THE GENTLEMAN WHO HAD FAILED FOR EVERYTHING + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"I have heard you speak of him," I answered, drinking him in with my +glance. I added internally, "Not half good enough for you." + +Hilda's eyes met mine and read my thought. They flashed back word, in +the language of eyes, "I do not agree with you." + +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. + +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. + +"Now, which would YOU advise me, Miss Tepping?" he inquired, after we +had discussed the matter some minutes. + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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?" + +Holsworthy rose too. "Mayn't I go with you?" he asked, eagerly. + +"Oh, if you like. How very kind of you!" Daphne answered, her cheek a +blush rose. "Hubert, will you come too? and you, Hilda?" + +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. + +"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." + +"You think he's in love with her?" I asked. + +"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." + +"Then what do you suppose is the matter?" + +"I have an inkling of the truth: I imagine Mr. Cecil must have let +himself in for a prior attachment." + +"If so, why does he hang about Daphne?" + +"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." + +"Is he well off? Could he afford to marry Daphne?" + +"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." + +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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Just at that moment the door opened and my aunt entered. + +"Why, where's Daphne?" she cried, looking about her and arranging her +black lace shawl. + +"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." + +"What? That boy's been here again?" + +"Yes, Lady Tepping. He called to see Daphne." + +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_ 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." + +I nodded and beamed benignly. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Really, Aunt Fanny," I said; "you must recollect that a professional +man--" + +"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!" + +"Conceal them! My dearest aunt! Why, I danced twice with Daphne." + +"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_ 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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Which way are you walking?" I asked, as we turned out into the street. + +"Towards my rooms in the Temple." + +"Oh! I'm going back to St. Nathaniel's," I continued. "If you'll allow +me, I'll walk part way with you." + +"How very kind of you!" + +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. + +"You seem to think so," I answered, smiling. + +He flushed a little; the lantern jaw grew longer. "I admire her, of +course," he answered. "Who doesn't? She is so extraordinarily handsome." + +"Well, not exactly handsome," I replied, with more critical and +kinsman-like deliberation. "Pretty, if you will; and decidedly pleasing +and attractive in manner." + +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." + +"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." + +"Clever!" he echoed. "Profound! She has a most unusual intellect. She +stands alone." + +"Like her mother's silk dresses," I murmured, half under my breath. + +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!" + +"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.) + +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." + +"There is such a thing as being TOO modest and unassuming," I answered. +"It sometimes leads to unintentional cruelty." + +"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?" + +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." + +His mouth twitched. "That's very serious!" he answered, gravely; "very +serious." + +"It is," I responded, with my best paternal manner, gazing blankly in +front of me. + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"So I anticipated," I answered, lighting up. + +He started and looked surprised. "Why, what made you guess it?" he +inquired. + +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?" + +"A great deal," he answered. "For example, the sense of my own utter +unworthiness." + +"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. + +"Unfortunately, yes. What do you think of her?" + +I scrutinised the features. "Seems a nice enough little thing," I +answered. It was an innocent face, I admit; very frank and girlish. + +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. + +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. + +"In the theatrical profession?" I inquired at last, looking up. + +He hesitated. "Well, not exactly," he answered. + +I pursed my lips and blew a ring. "Music-hall stage?" I went on, +dubiously. + +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. + +"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." + +"Now, THERE you show prejudice!" + +"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." + +"I think she's a good girl," he retorted, slowly. + +"Then why do you want to throw her over?" I inquired. + +"I don't. That's just it. On the contrary, I mean to keep my word and +marry her." + +"IN ORDER to keep your word?" I suggested. + +He nodded. "Precisely. It is a point of honour." + +"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." + +He bared it instantly. "I thought I was in love with this girl, you +see," he went on, "till I saw Miss Tepping." + +"That makes a difference," I admitted. + +"And I couldn't bear to break her heart." + +"Heaven forbid!" I cried. "It is the one unpardonable sin. Better +anything than that." Then I grew practical. "Father's consent?" + +"MY father's? IS it likely? He expects me to marry into some +distinguished English family." + +I hummed a moment. "Well, out with it!" I exclaimed, pointing my cigar +at him. + +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--" + +"Precisely so," I murmured, knocking off my ash. "The usual +self-sacrifice! Case quite normal! Everything en regle!" + +"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--" + +"As a flower in May. Oh, yes; I don't doubt it. How did you come to +propose to her, though?" + +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--" + +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." + +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?" + +"Oh, no; she's on tour." + +"In the provinces?" + +"M'yes; just at present, at Scarborough." + +"But she writes to you?" + +"Every day." + +"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?" + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +"What, Daphne?" + +I smiled. "No, not Daphne," I answered. "Our friend, Miss Wade. She has +extraordinary insight." + +"I could trust anything to Miss Wade. She is true as steel." + +"You are right," I answered. "That shows that you, too, are a judge of +character." + +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." + +I grasped his hand. "My dear fellow," I said, "nearly ninety per cent. +of men, after all--are human!" + +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." + +I produced the photograph. "What do you make of that?" I asked. "_I_ +think it an honest face, myself, I may tell you." + +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.'" + +"You mean they are so much touched up!" + +"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." + +"You think so?" + +"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." + +"But the underlying face?" + +"Is a minx's." + +I handed her the letter. "This next?" I asked, fixing my eyes on her as +she looked. + +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." + +"You believe, then, there is character in handwriting?" + +"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!" + +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!" + +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." + +"How kind of you!" I cried. "But you are always all kindness." + +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. + +"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!" + +"You have seen her?" I asked. + +"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." + +"That's well," I answered. "That looks all right." + +"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." + +"Well, that was open and aboveboard," I continued, beginning to fear we +had hastily misjudged Miss Sissie Montague. + +"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." + +"And the other?" + +"Wasn't." + +"Did you note the name?" I asked, interested. + +"Yes; here it is." She handed me a slip of paper. + +I read it: "Reginald Nettlecraft, Esq., 427, Staples Inn, London." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Not a penny, I should say. An allowance from his father, perhaps, who +is a Lincolnshire parson; but otherwise, nothing." + +"Then, in my opinion, the young lady is playing for Mr. Holsworthy's +money; failing which, she will decline upon Mr. Nettlecraft's heart." + +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." + +"Do. That will suffice. You can judge then for yourself whether or not I +am mistaken." + +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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +The old lady half rose. "Let me see," she said, staring at me. "WHICH is +Mr. Holsworthy, Siss?--is it Cecil or Reggie?" + +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. + +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. + +As it was, I went back to London the very next day, determined to renew +my slight acquaintance with Reggie Nettlecraft. + +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. + +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!" + +"That is my profession," I answered, unashamed. "And you?" + +"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." + +"And when you have failed for everything?" I inquired, just to test his +sense of humour. + +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." + +"Then why not mark your sense of the fact by leaving it?" I inquired, +with a smile. + +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." + +"And yet imperialists," I said, "generally gush over the colonies--the +Empire on which the sun never sets." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"It's quite unimportant," I answered. "I was asked to ask you, and I +HAVE asked you." + +"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--" + +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?" + +"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?" + +"Oh, yes; I know her. I called on her, in fact, night before last, at +Scarborough." + +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." + +"What other Johnnie?" I asked, feeling we were getting near it. + +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." + +"I have certainly never aspired to the young lady's hand," I answered, +cautiously. "But don't you know your rival's name, then?" + +"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!" + +"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. + +"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." + +"Got what?" I inquired, not quite catching the phrase. + +"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." + +"She writes to you, I think?" + +"That's so; every blooming day; but how the dummy did you come to know +it?" + +"She lays letters addressed to you on the hall table at her lodgings in +Scarborough." + +"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. + +"You really want to get rid of this other fellow?" I asked, seeing my +chance. + +"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!" + +"As a preliminary step, would you mind letting me see one of Miss +Montague's letters?" I inquired. + +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." + +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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"You have no compunctions?" I asked again, after reading it. + +"Not a blessed compunction to my name." + +"Then neither have I," I answered. + +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. + +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?" + +"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." + +He sat down and wrote, much relieved that I took the responsibility off +his shoulders. + + +"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. + +"Faithfully yours, + +"CECIL HOLSWORTHY." + + +"Nothing more than that?" he asked, looking up and biting his pen. "Not +a word of regret or apology?" + +"Not a word," I answered. "You are really too lenient." + +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. + +I smiled. "My dear fellow, that is a matter for your own consideration." + +"But--do you think she will laugh at me?" + +"Miss Montague?" + +"No! Daphne." + +"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." + +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!" + +"We are all unworthy of a good woman's love," I answered. "But, thank +Heaven, the good women don't seem to realise it." + +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. + +"Well, you won't believe it, Dr. Cumberledge," he began; "but--" + +"Yes, I DO believe it," I answered. "I know it. I have read it already." + +"Read it!" he cried. "Where?" + +I waved my hand towards his face. "In a special edition of the evening +papers," I answered, smiling. "Daphne has accepted you!" + +He sank into an easy chair, beside himself with rapture. "Yes, yes; that +angel! Thanks to YOU, she has accepted me!" + +"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." + +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. + +"And I have given Daphne a husband who will love and appreciate her," +Hilda answered, flushing. + +"You see," I said, maliciously; "I told you they never find us out, +Holsworthy!" + +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. + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE EPISODE OF THE WIFE WHO DID HER DUTY + + +To make you understand my next yarn, I must go back to the date of my +introduction to Hilda. + +"It is witchcraft!" I said the first time I saw her, at Le Geyt's +luncheon-party. + +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." + +"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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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?" + +"You are quite correct. Then you knew my mother?" + +"Oh, dear me, no! I never even met her. Why THEN?" + +Her look was mischievous. "But, unless I mistake, I think she came from +Hendre Coed, near Bangor." + +"Wales is a village!" I exclaimed, catching my breath. "Every Welsh +person seems to know all about every other." + +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?" + +"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." + +She shut her eyes and seemed to turn her glance inward. + +"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. + +"Quite right," I answered, nodding. + +"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. + +"You are quite correct," I answered, surprised. "And that is really all +that you knew of my mother?" + +"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." + +"And can you do the same with everyone?" + +"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." + +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. + +But I am forgetting that all this time I have not even now introduced my +witch to you. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +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: + +"I think, before twelve mouths are out, MR. LE GEYT WILL HAVE MURDERED +HER!" + +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? + +I gasped and wondered. + +"What makes you fancy anything so unlikely?" I asked aside at last, +behind the babel of voices. "You quite alarm me." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +"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." + +"I know that," she answered, growing grave. "I ought to know it. I am a +nurse already at St. George's Hospital." + +"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." + +"I know that too; but... Sebastian is at St. Nathaniel's--and I want to +be near Sebastian." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You may trust me implicitly," I answered. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Thanks so much," she answered, with that delicious smile. It had an +infantile simplicity about it which contrasted most piquantly with her +prophetic manner. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +"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!" + +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?" + +"The victim? What do you mean?" + +"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." + +"But this is second sight!" I cried, drawing away. "Do you pretend to +prevision?" + +"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." + +"Explain yourself, oh, prophetess!" + +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. + +"What, Travers? Oh, intimately." + +"Then come to my ward and see. After you have seen, you will perhaps +believe me." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Nurse Wade has remarkable insight," Travers whispered to me as we went. + +"I can believe it," I answered. + +"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?" + +"She is somewhat the same type," I began, "as Mrs.--" + +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?" + +"It is certainly rather a feeble crop for a woman of her age," I +admitted. "And pale at that, and washy." + +"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?" + +"Very," I replied. "Not exactly a stoop, nor yet quite a hunch, but +certainly an odd spinal configuration." + +"Like our friend's, once more?" + +"Like our friend's, exactly!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"That is because you know less about it than Nurse Wade," Travers +answered, with an annoying smile of superior knowledge. + +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." + +"It is certainly odd," I answered, "how very much they both recall--" + +"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." + +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." + +"They can pierce like a dagger," I mused. + +"And leave an open wound behind that requires dressing," Travers added, +unsuspecting. Practical man, Travers! + +"But WHY do they get assaulted--the women of this type?" I asked, still +bewildered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"How did it all happen?" Travers asked, in a jaunty tone, to draw her +out. + +"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." + +"Oh, she has a tongue, has she?" Travers replied, surveying the "case" +critically. "Well, you know, she looks like it." + +"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." + +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!" + +"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. + +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. + +"Say to it?" I answered. "That it is wonderful, wonderful. You have +quite convinced me." + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +I felt really perturbed. "But can we do nothing," I cried, "to warn poor +Hugo?" + +"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?" + +"Then is there not also a type of men who assault their wives?" + +"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." + +"But surely we might caution Le Geyt of his danger!" + +"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." + +"You think so?" + +"I am sure of it. We human beings go straight like sheep to our natural +destiny." + +"But--that is fatalism." + +"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." + + + +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." + +"She knows enough to know when she doesn't know," I answered, "which is +really the rarest kind of knowledge." + +"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!" + +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." + +"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!" + +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. + +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." + +"Clara, dear," the husband said, "shall we go in to lunch?" + +"You dear, stupid boy! Are we not all waiting for YOU to give your arm +to Lady Maitland?" + +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_ +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. + +"Only you ought to explain, Clara--" Le Geyt began, in a deprecatory +tone. + +"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!" + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +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_ 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?" + +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--" + +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." + +"What a charming hostess Mrs. Le Geyt makes," the painter observed to +me, after lunch. "Such tact! Such discrimination!... AND, what a devoted +stepmother!" + +"She is one of the local secretaries of the Society for the Prevention +of Cruelty to Children," I said, drily. + +"And charity begins at home," Hilda Wade added, in a significant aside. + +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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +I started. "You think not?" + +"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!" + +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_ require is +CHEERFUL obedience." + +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. + +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! + +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!" + +"You said within twelve months." + +"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!" + + + +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. + +"But not yet gone," she answered; and a profound sense of foreboding +spread over her speaking face as she uttered the words. + +Her oracle disquieted me. "Why, I dined there last night," I cried; "and +all seemed exceptionally well." + +"The calm before the storm, perhaps," she murmured. + +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!" + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"He will NOT be hanged," my witch answered, with the same unquestioning +confidence as ever. + +"Why not?" I asked, astonished once more at this bold prediction. + +She went on bandaging the arm of the patient whom she was attending. +"Because... he will commit suicide," she replied, without moving a +muscle. + +"How do you know that?" + +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." + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE EPISODE OF THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT COMMIT SUICIDE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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!" + +She said "disaster," not "crime"; I noted mentally the reservation +implied in the word. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"The General was killed in India during the Mutiny." + +"I remember, of course--killed, bravely fighting." + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"You are right," I admitted, after a minute's consideration. "I see it +now--though I should never have thought of it." + +"That is the use of being a woman," she answered. + +I waited a second once more, and mused. "Still, that is only one +doubtful case," I objected. + +"There was another, you must remember: his uncle Alfred." + +"Alfred Le Geyt?" + +"No; HE died in his bed, quietly. Alfred Faskally." + +"What a memory you have!" I cried, astonished. "Why, that was before our +time--in the days of the Chartist riots!" + +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." + +"You remember it directly?" + +"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." + +"So have I--but I forget it." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Luck in their suicides! What a curious phrase! And you say, ALWAYS. +Were there other cases, then?" + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"Le Geyt is not a coward," I interposed, with warmth. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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!" + +"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. + +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." + +"That is true," I answered, lip-reading. "I never thought of that +either." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +Mrs. Mallet braced herself up visibly to a distressing effort. "You have +seen the body, Dr. Cumberledge?" she faltered. + +"No, dear Mrs. Mallet, I have not. I came straight from Nathaniel's. I +have had no time to see it." + +"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." + +I nodded assent. "Exactly; I have seen it there." + +"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." + +I bowed my head. "For us who knew Hugo that goes without saying." + +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?" + +"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--" + +Hilda Wade finished the sentence for me as I paused: "Hugo Le Geyt +consent to advance it." + +I lowered my head. "You have said it," I answered. + +"Not for the children's sake?" Mrs. Mallet cried, with clasped hands. + +"Not for the children's sake, even," I answered. "Consider for a moment, +Mrs. Mallet: IS it true? Do you yourself BELIEVE it?" + +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!" + +"The real wonder is," Hilda murmured, soothing her white hand, "that he +contained himself so long!" + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +"Where do you think he has taken refuge?" + +"The police, Dr. Sebastian has ascertained, are watching the railway +stations, and the ports for the Continent." + +"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!" + +"You think he has not gone there, then?" I cried, deeply interested. + +"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." + +"Where, then?" + +"WHERE comes last; HOW first. It is a question of inference." + +"Explain. We know your powers." + +"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." + +"No, no!" Mrs. Mallet cried. "To bring him back voluntarily, that he may +face his trial like a man!" + +"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." + +"You are probably right," I answered. "But would he have a razor?" + +"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." + +"The first country town?" + +"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." + +"But not by rail, you say?" + +"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." + +"But has his bicycle gone?" + +"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." + +"He is too good a criminal lawyer to have dreamt of taking his own," +Mrs. Mallet interposed, with another effort. + +"But where could he have hired or bought one at that time of night?" I +exclaimed. + +"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." + +"And then?" + +"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." + +"Great Western or South-Western? Why those two in particular? Then, you +have settled in your own mind which direction he has taken?" + +"Pretty well. I judge by analogy. Lina, your brother was brought up in +the West Country, was he not?" + +Mrs. Mallet gave a weary nod. "In North Devon," she answered; "on the +wild stretch of moor about Hartland and Clovelly." + +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!" + +"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." + +"And the Le Geyts are always governed by first impulses," my +character-reader added. + +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. + +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?" + +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." + +"The very thing! Has he visited it since he grew up?" + +"To my knowledge, never." + +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." + +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." + +"And the other thing?" + +"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_ 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." + +"What an extraordinary insight into character you have!" I cried. +"You seem to divine what everybody's action will be under given +circumstances." + +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_ 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." + +"In one word," I said, "you are a psychologist." + +"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?" + +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. + +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." + +"I will find him," I answered, "if he is anywhere within twenty miles of +Hartland." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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! + +A very ordinary person; and Le Geyt bore the stamp of a born gentleman. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +But some strange hand restrained me. Who was I that I should stand +between Hugo Le Geyt and the ways of Providence? + +The Le Geyts loved ever the ordeal by water. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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?" + +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!" + +"You forget all there?" + +"I forget IT--the red horror!" + +"You meant just now to drown yourself?" + +"No! If I had meant it I would have done it.... Hubert, for my +children's sake, I WILL not commit suicide!" + +"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! + +"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." + +"Not for the children's sake?" + +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?" + +"Dear Hugo--I know all; and to know all is to forgive all." + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +It was the only sentence in which he ever alluded to her. + +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. + +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." + +"You will come back to London, then, and stand your trial?" I asked, +eagerly. + +"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!" + +I answered nothing. I left him to face his own remorse in silence. + +At last he rose to go, and held one foot undecided on his bicycle. + +"I leave myself in Heaven's hands," he said, as he lingered. "IT will +requite.... The ordeal is by water." + +"So I judged," I answered. + +"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." + +He mounted his machine and sailed off. My eyes followed him up the path +with sad forebodings. + +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. + +One of the men was Le Geyt, the other a fisherman. + +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. + +"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!" + +"Will he reach it?" I asked, anxiously, having my own idea on the +subject. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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." + +I did not realise at the time with what profound depth of personal +feeling she said it. + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE EPISODE OF THE NEEDLE THAT DID NOT MATCH + + +"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." + +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." + +"And he has done splendid work for humanity," I went on, growing +enthusiastic. + +"Splendid work! Yes, splendid! (Two lumps, I believe?) He has done more, +I admit, for medical science than any other man I ever met." + +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." + +She passed me the muffins, and smiled her restrained smile. + +"Does the desire to do good to humanity in itself imply a benevolent +disposition?" she answered, obliquely. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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." + +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." + +"How do you mean? You ARE so enigmatic!" + +"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." + +"Then you mean to say it is chance that has made Sebastian?" + +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." + +"I see," I said. "The aim of medicine happens to be a benevolent one." + +"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!' + +"Not good?" + +"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." + +"Sebastian would not do that," I cried. "He is wholly free from the mean +spirit of jealousy." + +"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." + +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?" + +A cloud passed over her brow. "I have reason to know it," she answered, +slowly. Then her voice changed. "Take another muffin." + +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!" + +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!" + +"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--" + +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." + +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--" + +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." + +"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--" + +At that moment, as unkindly fate would have it, the door opened, and +Sebastian entered. + +"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." + +The golden opportunity had come and gone. It was long before I found a +similar occasion for speaking to Hilda. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +_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. + +"You remember Yorke-Bannerman's case," he went on. "He committed a +murder--" + +"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. + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +"And _I_ know, too," Hilda answered, in a voice of placid confidence. + +"Yet you are not afraid?" + +"It is not _I_ who have cause for fear. The accused may tremble, not the +prosecutor." + +"What! You threaten?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"I came for my clinical," I answered, with an unconcerned air. "I have +somehow managed to mislay it in the laboratory." + +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?" + +"The woman in 93? Delirious?" + +"No, no. Nurse Wade?" + +"Hear her?" I echoed, I must candidly admit with intent to deceive. +"When she broke the basin?" + +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!" + +"She is the most intelligent nurse we have ever had in the place, sir," +I objected, stoutly. + +He nodded his head twice. "Intelligent--je vous l'accorde; but +dangerous--dangerous!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"Of Nurse Wade?" I asked, catching my breath. + +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." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +"Yes, I saw you." + +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." + +"In a culture?" I asked; for I guessed her meaning. + +She nodded. "Yes, to see what that man has done to it." + +"What do you suspect?" + +She shrugged her graceful shoulders half imperceptibly. + +"How should I know? Anything!" + +I gazed at the needle closely. "What made you distrust it?" I inquired +at last, still eyeing it. + +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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"That was wonderfully quick of you!" + +"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." + +"You think it is poisoned, then?" + +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." + +"Fifteen years ago he used poison?" + +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." + +"And what do you suspect now?" I asked, the weird sense of her strange +power deepening on me every second. + +She held up the incriminated needle again. + +"Do you see this groove?" she asked, pointing to it with the tip of +another. + +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. + +"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." + +"Which was?" + +"Try the needle, and judge for yourself. I prefer you should find out. +You can tell me to-morrow." + +"It was quick of you to detect it!" I cried, still turning the +suspicious object over. "The difference is so slight." + +"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." + +"Still, Hilda, I am loth--" + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +"Blood-poisoning!" I ejaculated, horror-struck. + +"Aye; blood-poisoning: that's the English of it." + +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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +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." + +"You anticipated that result?" + +"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." + +I gazed at her, uncertain. "And what will you DO?" I asked. "Expose +him?" + +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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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--" + +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!" + +It was the first time she had ever called me by my Christian name. The +mere sound of the word made me unspeakably happy. + +Yet she waved me away. "Must I go?" I asked, quivering. + +"Yes, yes: you must go. I cannot stand it. I must think this thing out, +undisturbed. It is a very great crisis." + +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. + +"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? + + +"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, + +"HILDA." + + +It was a hurried scrawl in pencil, as if written in a train. I felt +utterly dejected. Was Hilda, then, leaving England? + +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. + +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!" + +"She retains that hold upon me, sir," I answered curtly. + +"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." + +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. + +"You do not believe it? I tell you it is so. The girl herself as good as +acknowledged it to me." + +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_ 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." + +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." + +Even at that moment of detection and disgrace, in one man's eyes, at +least, Sebastian retained his full measure of dignity. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE EPISODE OF THE LETTER WITH THE BASINGSTOKE POSTMARK + + +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_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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? + +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. + +"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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +"Ha? Looked black, did it?" I faltered. + +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. + +"I believe the Crown urged money as the motive?" I suggested. + +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." + +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." + +He gave a quick start. "What, Maisie?" he exclaimed. + +I shook my head. "No, no; that is not the name," I replied. + +He hesitated a moment. "But there IS no other," he hazarded cautiously +at last. "I knew the family." + +"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." + +"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_ +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!" + +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." + +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." + +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." + +"With aconitine?" I suggested, eagerly. + +"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." + +"What! Sebastian found it out?" I cried, starting. + +"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." + +"And you BELIEVE that, Mr. Mayfield?" + +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." + +"But it was never tried," I ejaculated. + +"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." + +"You think, then, the case would have gone against him?" + +"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. + +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--" + +He smiled this time till I thought his smile would swallow him. + +"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?" + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +"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, + +"CHARLOTTE CHURTWOOD." + + +In the corner was the address: "11, Chubb's Cottages, Basingstoke." + +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. + +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. + +"Do you know what train the lady was in?" I asked, as she paused. "Where +was it going, did you notice?" + +"It was the Southampton train, sir. I saw the board on the carriage." + +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." + +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? + +No; nobody of that name on the list. + +Had any lady taken a passage at the last moment? + +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. + +What sort of lady? + +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. + +"That will do," I answered, sure now of my quarry. "To which port did +she book?" + +"To Cape Town." + +"Very well," I said, promptly. "You may reserve me a good berth in the +next outgoing steamer." + +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. + +Ten days later, I was afloat on the Channel, bound for South Africa. + +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. + +"Dr. Cumberledge?" he said, in an inquiring tone. + +I nodded. "That is my name." + +"I have a letter for you, sir." + +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. + +I tore it open and read: + + +"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. + +"Your ever attached and grateful, + +"HILDA." + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I could hardly believe my eyes. Civilisation indeed! A bicycle in these +remotest wilds of Africa! + +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! + +One moment later I had burst into a wild cry, and rode forward to her +hurriedly. "Hilda!" I shouted aloud, in my excitement: "Hilda!" + +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. + +"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!" + +"Then you are not angry with me?" I cried. "You remember, you forbade +me!" + +"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!" + +"And yet you begged me not to follow you!" + +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!" + +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." + +"Which means to say, Hilda, that, after all, you are still a woman!" + +"A woman; oh, yes; very much a woman! Hubert, I love you; I half wish I +did not." + +"Why, darling?" I drew her to me. + +"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." + +"Then divide it," I cried gaily; "do neither; come away with me!" + +"No, no; nor that, either. I will not stultify my whole past life. I +will not dishonour my dear father's memory." + +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. + +"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. + +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?" + +"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?" + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +"Why fruitless?" I asked, leaning forward. + +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." + +"Hilda," I cried, "you are a witch! How COULD you know that? I can't +imagine." + +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." + +"And yet," I said, "he is so great." + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +"Most people think to be complex is to be great," I objected. + +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." + +"Then you knew I would come," I exclaimed, half pleased to find I +belonged inferentially to her higher category. + +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." + +"So you believed in me?" + +"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." + +"You know I know all--because Sebastian told me?" + +"Yes; and I think I even know how you answered him." + +"How?" + +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." + +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. + +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?" + +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!" + +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?" + +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!" + +"I believe it already," I answered. "What need, then, to prove it?" + +"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!" + +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." + +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.'" + +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." + +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! + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE EPISODE OF THE STONE THAT LOOKED ABOUT IT + + +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. + +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. + +"Then you live here?" I cried, gazing round--my voice, I suppose, +betraying my latent sense of the unworthiness of the position. + +"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." + +"That is an unkind conjunction!" I exclaimed, reddening. + +"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." + +"You are cruel, Hilda!" + +"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." + +"Upset your plans? How?" + +"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_ 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." + +"I never thought of that!" I cried, aghast. + +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." + +I was mutely penitent. "And yet, you forgive me, Hilda?" + +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." + +"What are you doing at this farm?" I gazed round at it, dissatisfied. + +"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." + +"And what am _I_ to do?" I cried, oppressed with a sudden sense of +helplessness. + +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?" + +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." + +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?" + +"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." + +Her smile was not wholly without a touch of triumph. + +"In that case," she went on, "I suppose the only alternative is for you +to remain here." + +"That would appear to be logic," I replied. "But what can I do? Set up +in practice?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +I saw at once what this meant. A rising of the Matabele! + +I had come back from Salisbury, unknowing it, into the midst of a revolt +of bloodthirsty savages. + +Yet, even if I had known, I must still have hurried home with all speed +to Klaas's--to protect Hilda. + +Hilda? Where was Hilda? A breathless sinking crept over me. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I called the name aloud: "Hilda! Hilda! Hilda!" + +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! + +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!" + +"Are they gone?" she asked, staring about her with a terrified air, +though still strangely preserving her wonted composure of manner. + +"Who gone? The Matabele?" + +"Yes, yes!" + +"Did you see them, Hilda?" + +"For a moment--with black shields and assegais, all shouting madly. You +have been to the house, Hubert? You know what has happened?" + +"Yes, yes, I know--a rising. They have massacred the Klaases." + +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." + +"It is a perfect deception," I answered, admiring her instinctive +cleverness even then. "I never so much as noticed you." + +"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!" + +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?" + +"It is the only thing possible--if my machine is unhurt. They may have +taken it... or ridden over and broken it." + +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." + +"Give her bread," Hilda suggested. "That will hearten her more than +corn. There is plenty in the house; Tant Mettie baked this morning." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +I hesitated. "You CAN'T go in there again, Hilda!" I cried. "Wait, and +let me do it." + +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. + +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. + +"I must take the baby," I said. + +She shook her head. + +"Oh, no. I will not trust her to you." + +"Hilda, I insist." + +"And I insist, too. It is my place to take her." + +"But can you ride so?" I asked, anxiously. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"They may have sacked Salisbury!" I exclaimed at last, looking out +towards the brand-new town. + +"I doubt it," Hilda answered. Her very doubt reassured me. + +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! + +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! + +"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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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!" + +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. + +"Then YOU must take the pony," I called out, "and let me have the +bicycle!" + +"You couldn't ride it," she called back. "It is a woman's machine, +remember." + +"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!" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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! + +After a second, I asked once more, with bated breath, "Is he gaining?" + +She looked back. "Yes; gaining." + +A pause. "And now?" + +"Still gaining. He is poising an assegai." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +"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!" + +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!" + +"How do you know?" I gasped. But I believed her. + +"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!" + +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!" + +The men let their rifles drop, and rode down towards us. "Who are you?" +I cried. + +They saluted us, military fashion. "Matabele police, sah," the leader +answered, recognising me. "You are flying from Klaas's?" + +"Yes," I answered. "They have murdered Klaas, with his wife and child. +Some of them are now following us." + +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!" + +"The Salisbury people know of this rising, then?" I asked. + +"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." + +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. + +Suddenly, Hilda's voice came wafted to me, as through a mist. "What are +you doing, Hubert? You'll be off in a minute!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +As the words fell from his lips, I saw the face. I gave a quick little +start, then recovered my composure. + +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. + +"Seen whom?" + +"Sebastian." + +It was useless denying it to HER. "Yes, I have seen him," I answered, in +a confidential aside. + +"Just now--this moment--at the back of the house--looking in at the +window upon us?" + +"You are right--as always." + +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." + +"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." + +Hilda's face was like a drowned man's. + +"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?" + +"Still, I am loth to believe--" I cried. + +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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE EPISODE OF THE EUROPEAN WITH THE KAFFIR HEART + + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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?" + +"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?" + +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?" + +"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." + +"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_ 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!" + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +"But Sebastian himself?" I urged. "Take him first, in isolation." + +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." + +"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?" + +"Sebastian? Oh, no; that is the absolute antipodes of his type and +temperament." + +"He will never give up because of a temporary check, you think?" + +"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." + +"I see; but having failed in that?" + +"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." + +"But taking Sebastian himself; alone?" + +"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.'" + +"Who is no tactician?" I murmured, half aloud. + +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?'" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +She reflected once more. "Do you mean to say anything of our suspicions +in Salisbury, Hubert?" she asked at last. + +"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." + +"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?" + +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." + +"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." + +"I shall give in my name with the rest," I answered. + +"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." + +"They will shoot him red-handed if they catch him," I answered +confidently. "A white man who sides with the blacks in an insurrection!" + +"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." + +"Why so, Hilda?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Then you should never let them get to close quarters," I suggested, +catching the general drift of his inarticulate swift pictures. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Experience?" Colebrook asked in his brief shorthand of speech, running +his ferret eyes over me. + +"None," I answered; "but a noiseless tread and a capacity for crawling +through holes in hedges which may perhaps be useful." + +He glanced inquiry at Doolittle, who was a shorter and stouter man, with +a knack of getting over obstacles by sheer forcefulness. + +"Hands and knees!" he said, abruptly, in the imperative mood, pointing +to a clump of dry grass with thorny bushes ringed about it. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +He nodded assent. "Couldn't see him," he said shortly. "But he's there, +right enough. White man. Heard 'em talk of him." + +"What did they say?" I asked, eagerly. + +"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." + +"They said that?" I exclaimed, taken aback. "Kill all the white women!" + +"Yes. Kill all. White witches, every one. The young ones worst. Word of +the great induna." + +"And you could not see him?" + +"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." + +"What sort of voice? Like this?" And I imitated Sebastian's cold, +clear-cut tone as well as I was able. + +"The man! That's him, Doctor. You've got him down to the ground. The +very voice. Heard him giving orders." + +That settled the question. I was certain of it now. Sebastian was with +the insurgents. + +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?" + +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. + +"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!" + +"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!" + +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!" + +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! + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +I seized Colebrook's arm, almost speechless with anger. "The white man!" +I cried. "The traitor!" + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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!" + +On we rode, still gaining. "Now, now," I cried, "we shall catch him!" + +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. + +He had gained a little by his shots, but we soon caught it up. Once more +I said, "We are on him!" + +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. + +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. + +"We have him now!" I cried, in a voice of triumph. And Colebrook echoed, +"We have him!" + +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!" + +"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!" + +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. + +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!" + +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? + +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!" + +I saw our mistake at once. We had left our companion out there alone, +rendered helpless by the care of all three horses. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +"Yes; how did you know?" + +"I read it in your step. But I guessed as much before. He is so very +keen; and you started too confident." + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE EPISODE OF THE LADY WHO WAS VERY EXCLUSIVE + + +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. + +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. + +"You will go home, of course?" I said to Hilda, when we came to talk it +all over. + +She shook her head. "To England? Oh, no. I must pursue my Plan. +Sebastian will have gone home; he expects me to follow." + +"And why don't you?" + +"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." + +"Where?" + +"Why do you ask, Hubert?" + +"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." + +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." + +"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_ 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." + +"My dear Hubert, have I ever denied that I was a woman?" + +"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." + +"Dear Hubert, I am ruining your life!" + +"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." + +She smiled, and came back to earth. "Oh, if you MUST know, to India, by +the east coast, changing steamers at Aden." + +"Extraordinary!" I cried. "Do you know, Hilda, as luck will have it, _I_ +also shall be on my way to Bombay by the very same steamer!" + +"But you don't know what steamer it is?" + +"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." + +She looked up at me with a gathering film in her eyes. "Hubert, you are +irrepressible!" + +"I am, my dear child; so you may as well spare yourself the needless +trouble of trying to repress me." + +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! + +"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." + +"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." + +"Now do be serious, Hubert! I am going to invent an object in life for +us." + +"What object?" + +"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." + +"And am I to attach myself to her, too?" + +"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." + +"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--" + +"Don't talk nonsense. It is YOU who are wandering from the question now. +Please return to it." + +I returned at once. "So I am to depend on what turns up?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"Well, what?" I answered, unsuspecting. + +"I told you everything turned up at the end!" she said, confidently. +"Look at the lady's nose!" + +"It does turn up at the end--certainly," I answered, glancing back at +her. "But I hardly see--" + +"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." + +"Her nose tells you that?" + +"Her nose, in part; but her face as a whole, too, her dress, her chair, +her mental attitude to things in general." + +"My dear Hilda, you can't mean to tell me you have divined her whole +nature at a glance, by magic!" + +"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." + +"You have been astonishingly quick!" I cried. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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?" + +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." + +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. + +"Why do you think she is EXCLUSIVE?" I asked Hilda as we strolled on +towards the stern, out of the spoilt child's hearing. + +"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." + +"Now, Hilda, that is the first time I have ever known you to show any +feminine ill-nature!" + +"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." + +"You have decided quickly." + +"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." + +"But she seems so complaining!" I interposed. "I'm afraid, if you take +her on, you'll get terribly bored with her." + +"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." + +"All things, Hilda?" I asked, meaningly, with a little tremor of +delight. + +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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"Of course not. You forget. There my memory comes in. I simply remember +it." + +"You remember it? How?" + +"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.'" + +"Clitheroe--Gubbins; what on earth has that to do with it? That would be +Mrs. Gubbins: this is Lady Meadowcroft." + +"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.' + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Really, Hilda, you know everything about everybody! And what do you +suppose they're going to India for?" + +"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." + +"They don't seem inclined to give us much chance of talking," I +objected. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +"You have had relations in Burma?" Lady Meadowcroft persisted. + +I manifested a desire to discontinue the conversation. "Yes," I +answered, coldly, "my uncle commanded there." + +"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." + +"He was a certain Sir Malcolm Tepping," I blurted out, staring hard at +my plate. + +"Tepping! I think I have heard Dick speak of him, Ivor." + +"Your cousin," Sir Ivor answered, with emphatic dignity, "is certain to +have mixed with nobbut the highest officials in Burma." + +"Yes, I'm sure Dick used to speak of a certain Sir Malcolm. My cousin's +name, Dr. Cumberledge, was Maltby--Captain Richard Maltby." + +"Indeed," I answered, with an icy stare. "I cannot pretend to the +pleasure of having met him." + +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. + +"Oh, dear, no," I answered, with a glassy smile. "We are not connected +in any way." + +"But you are travelling together!" + +"Merely as you and I are travelling together--fellow-passengers on the +same steamer." + +"Still, you have met before." + +"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. + +"And what are you both going to do when you get to India?" + +"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." + +"Then you are not going out to take an appointment?" + +"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!" + +I waited a second. "No," I answered, slowly. "I have not been practising +of late. I am looking about me. I travel for enjoyment." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"A delightful book!" Hilda answered. "The Buddhist Praying Wheel, by +William Simpson." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +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." + +"Nervous about what?" + +"About disease, chiefly. She has the temperament that dreads +infection--and therefore catches it." + +"Why do you think so?" + +"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." + +"And you attach importance to her fear?" + +"Of course. I count upon it as probably our chief means of catching and +fixing her." + +"As how?" + +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." + +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." + +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!" + +"Why not?" he asked, astonished. + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"Then you positively refuse?" he asked, wistfully, drawing back. I could +see he stood in a certain dread of that imperious little woman. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +Hilda looked up at her calmly. "Not in the least," she answered. "I have +nursed hundreds of cases." + +"Oh, my, how dreadful! And never caught it?" + +"Never. I am not afraid, you see." + +"I wish _I_ wasn't! Hundreds of cases! It makes one ill to think of +it!... And all successfully?" + +"Almost all of them." + +"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. + +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." + +"You really mean it?" Her face was pleading. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +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?" + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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--" + +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." + +"Which only shows," Lady Meadowcroft broke in, "that one ought always to +have a LADY to nurse one." + +"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. + +"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!" + +"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." + +"But do you think you will be able to stand her?" I asked. + +"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." + +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. + +"How's the plague at Bombay now?" an inquisitive passenger inquired of +the Captain at dinner our last night out. "Getting any better?" + +Lady Meadowcroft's thumb dived between her fingers again. "What! is +there plague in Bombay?" she asked, innocently, in her nervous fashion. + +"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." + +"A microbe, I believe, Dr. Boyell," the inquisitive passenger observed +deferentially, with due respect for medical science. + +"Yes," the ship's doctor answered, helping himself to an olive. "Forty +million microbes to each square inch of the Bombay atmosphere." + +"And we are going to Bombay!" Lady Meadowcroft exclaimed, aghast. + +"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." + +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_ +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." + +"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." + +"Oh, only a nurse--" Lady Meadowcroft began, and then coloured up +deeply, with a side glance at Hilda. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Not a bit of it!" the Captain answered, with provoking cheerfulness. +"Rampaging about like a roaring lion all over India!" + +Lady Meadowcroft's thumb must have suffered severely. The nails dug into +it as if it were someone else's. + +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?" + +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." + +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?" + +"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." + +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!" + +So Hilda won her point; and what was best, won it fairly. + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE EPISODE OF THE GUIDE WHO KNEW THE COUNTRY + + +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. + +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. + +The only thing that did NOT bore her, indeed, was Hilda's bright talk. + +"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_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +"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_ 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." + +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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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?" + +"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." + +"But, Ivor, I don't want to be skinned alive! I'm not an eel, please!" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What do you make of our guide?" I asked of Hilda on our fourth day out. +I began somehow to distrust him. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"Goodness gracious!" Lady Meadowcroft cried, clinging tight to Hilda. +"Miss Wade, this is dreadful! Where on earth have you brought us to?" + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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!" + +"Why do you think so?" I asked, low. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"What does he, say?" I asked, as soon as he had finished speaking. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"What is his answer?" I asked the cook, in my haughtiest voice. I am +haughty with difficulty. + +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." + +"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." + +The fat priest spoke again. "What does he say this time?" I asked. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +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. + +"But--OUGHT we to save our lives? Oughtn't we to be... well, Christian +martyrs?" + +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." + +"But... really... I'm afraid..." + +"Don't be afraid of anything, dear, or you will risk all. Follow my +lead; _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!" + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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! + +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." + +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." + +They kept their countenances with admirable decorum. + +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. + +Then I opened our stores, and drew out with a flourish--our last +remaining bottle of Simla soda-water. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What is Karma?" I asked, listlessly. + +"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." + +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. + +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!" + +"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!" + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +"Why so?" I asked, as astonished as I was pleased. + +"Priest-sahib say, he like you very much; oh, very, very much; no want +to see village people kill you." + +"Kill us! But I thought they believed we were saints!" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Not Ram Das?" I asked, suspiciously. + +"No, not Ram Das. Very good man--Tibetan." + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE EPISODE OF THE OFFICER WHO UNDERSTOOD PERFECTLY + + +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." + +She seemed to think that orchids originated in Covent Garden. + +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. + +"Ask him what he wants," I cried, turning to our fair-weather friend, +the cook. + +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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Where did you learn English?" I exclaimed, more and more astonished. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Plague?" I repeated, startled. He nodded. + +"Yes, plague; all same like dem hab him so bad down Bombay way." + +"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. + +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." + +"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?" + +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. + +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." + +"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?" + +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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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! + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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!" + +I spoke again, bending over him. "How long have the glandular swellings +been present, Professor?" I asked, with quiet deliberativeness. + +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!" + +"WHO told you I was dead?" I asked, sternly. + +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." + +"He told you a lie," I said, shortly. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +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!" + +"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." + +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?" + +"And may the just side win," I answered, solemnly. + +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. + +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." + +"Thank God for that!" Hilda said, and glided away silently. + +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." + +"I wish they would move you to tell the truth," I answered. + +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!" + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +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." + +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. + +"And now, what do you mean to do?" I asked Hilda, when our patient was +placed in other hands, and all was over. + +She answered me without one second's hesitation: "Go straight to Bombay, +and wait there till Sebastian takes passage for England." + +"He will go home, you think, as soon as he is well enough?" + +"Undoubtedly. He has now nothing more to stop in India for." + +"Why not as much as ever?" + +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." + +"Then when he engages a berth, you propose to go by the same steamer?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +The clerk produced it. + +I scanned it in haste. To my surprise and delight, a pencilled entry +half-way down the list gave the name, "Professor Sebastian." + +"Oh, Sebastian is going by this steamer?" I murmured, looking up. + +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." + +"Or wishes to avoid," I thought to myself, inwardly; but I did not say +so. I asked instead, "Is he coming again?" + +"Yes, I think so: at 5.30." + +"And she sails at seven?" + +"At seven, punctually. Passengers must be aboard by half-past six at +latest." + +"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." + +"You don't want a passage, sir? You may be the friend he's expecting." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Professor Sebastian been here again?" I asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +The sandy-haired man did look sharp; and within three minutes we were +driving off with our tickets to Prince's Dock landing-stage. + +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. + +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--" + +"What a lovely evening, Hubert!" Hilda said to me, in an apparently +unconcerned voice, as the Professor reached this point in his +exposition. + +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!" + +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." + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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!" + +"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." + +"We can't see the Ushant light," Hilda remarked, looking ahead. + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +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!" + +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." + +The first officer shrugged his shoulders. There was no time for protest. +"Next, then," he said, quickly. "Miss Martin--Miss Weatherly!" + +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!" + +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. + +Hilda loosened his grasp resolutely. "No, no," she answered, "I cannot +fly. I shall never leave you." + +"Not even if I promise--" + +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." + +His gaze was now pure admiration. "As you will," he answered. "For he +that loseth his life shall gain it." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +I bent over and felt his pulse. As far as I could make out, it still +beat feebly. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE EPISODE OF THE DEAD MAN WHO SPOKE + + + +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. + +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?" + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +Sebastian opened his eyes dreamily. "A boat?" he asked. + +"Yes, a boat!" + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +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!" + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"So I think. The change is but temporary. He will not last out three +days more, I fancy." + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"But you hated once to see me!" + +"Because I have so wronged you." + +"And now? Will you do nothing to repair the wrong?" + +"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." + +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." + +Sebastian shrank back. "Given before witnesses, and signed and sworn to! +Maisie, is this humiliation necessary; do you exact it?" + +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?" + +He paused and struggled. "I could--if it were not for you," he answered. + +"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. + +He paused once more. Then he murmured feebly, in a querulous tone, "What +witnesses? Whom do you wish to be present?" + +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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"And then--the delay! Suppose that we are too late?" + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +"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?" + +The great Q.C. fingered his cigarette-holder affectionately. + +"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." + +"But surely a confession--" + +"Ah, well, let me hear the confession, and then I shall be better able +to judge." + +Even as he spoke Hilda had entered the room. + +"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." + +"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." + +But such distinctions are too subtle for a loving woman. + +"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." + +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. + +The stimulant brought a shade of colour into his ghastly cheeks, and the +old quick, intelligent gleam came back into his deep sunk eyes. + +"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." + +He paused for breath, and she gave him another small sip of the brandy. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"'The patient,' said he, 'is my uncle, Admiral Scott Prideaux.' + +"'Your uncle!' I cried, in amazement. 'But how came he to develop such a +condition?' + +"'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.' + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Hilda was listening, with a set, white face. + +"Proceed!" said she, and held out the brandy once more. + +"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." + +"Proceed!" said she. + +"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!" + +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: + + + This is our Master, famous, calm, and dead, + Borne on our shoulders. + + +Hilda Wade, standing beside me, with an awestruck air, added a stanza +from the same great poem: + + + Lofty designs must close in like effects: + Loftily lying, + Leave him--still loftier than the world suspects, + Living and dying. + + +I gazed at her with admiration. "And it is YOU, Hilda, who pay him this +generous tribute!" I cried, "YOU, of all women!" + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + + + + + +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.txt or 4903.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 + +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. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Hilda Wade + +Author: Grant Allen + +Release Date: January, 2004 [EBook #4903] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 23, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HILDA WADE *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by Don Lainson. + + + +HILDA WADE + +A WOMAN WITH TENACITY OF PURPOSE + + +by + + +Grant Allen + + +1899 + + + +PUBLISHERS' NOTE + + +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. + + + + +HILDA WADE + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE EPISODE OF THE PATIENT WHO DISAPPOINTED HER DOCTOR + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +Hilda Wade herself I will not formally introduce to you: you will +learn to know her as I proceed with my story. + +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." + +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: + +"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!" + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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--" + +"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!" + +"You are right," I answered. "I believe she means it. Yet I know +one man at least--" for I admired her immensely. + +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!" + +"And it is?" + +"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." + +"It is very odd," I mused. "But there!--women are inexplicable!" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +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." + +"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!" + +"Intuition," I answered. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"Your principle?" Sebastian asked our sibyl, in his brief, quick +way. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"Dare we try it on a human subject?" I asked, tentatively. + +Hilda Wade answered at once, with that unerring rapidity of hers: +"Yes, certainly; on a few--the right persons. _I_, for one, am not +afraid to try it." + +"You?" I cried, feeling suddenly aware how much I thought of her. +"Oh, not YOU, please, Nurse Wade. Some other life, less valuable!" + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +That evening, by six o'clock, she was quite well and able to go +about her duties as usual. + +"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." + +"Coolness?" she inquired, in a quiet voice. "Or cruelty?" + +"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!" + +"Of philanthropy, or of science? To alleviate pain, or to learn +the whole truth about the human body?" + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +He lay long asleep. Hilda and I watched him. + +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. + +"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. + +"That is why God gave men moustaches," she mused, in a low voice; +"to hide the cruel corners of their mouths." + +"Not ALWAYS cruel," I cried. + +"Sometimes cruel, sometimes cunning, sometimes sensuous; but nine +times out of ten best masked by moustaches." + +"You have a bad opinion of our sex!" I exclaimed. + +"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!" + +On second thought, I did not feel sure that I could quarrel with +her estimate. + +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." + +"Would you call him impassioned?" I asked. "Most people think him +so cold and stern." + +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." + +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." + +"And a tobacco-trimmer by trade," Sebastian added, sarcastically. + +As usual, Hilda's was the truer description. It went deeper. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +The patient's dark face flushed crimson. + +"Ah! Arthur," she cried. "Dear Arthur! I can bear anything you +choose to do to me--for Arthur!" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"She WILL live to marry him," I answered, with confidence like her +own, "if YOU say she can stand it." + +"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." + +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." + +"A successful operation, certainly!" the great surgeon admitted, +with just pride in the Master's commendation. + +"AND the patient?" Hilda asked, wavering. + +"Oh, the patient? The patient will die," Nielsen replied, in an +unconcerned voice, wiping his spotless instruments. + +"That is not MY idea of the medical art," I cried, shocked at his +callousness. "An operation is only successful if--" + +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?" + +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." + +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. + +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? + +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! + +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." + +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." + +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!" + +"Call me Hilda, please! Hilda!" + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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. + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"What is that?" I asked. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"A hundred and three." + +I shook my head. Every symptom of fatal relapse. I could not +imagine what card Hilda held in reserve. But I stood there, +waiting. + +She whispered in the girl's ear: "Arthur's ship is sighted off the +Lizard." + +The patient opened her eyes slowly, and rolled them for a moment as +if she did not understand. + +"Too late!" I cried. "Too late! She is delirious--insensible!" + +Hilda repeated the words slowly, but very distinctly. "Do you +hear, dear? Arthur's ship . . . it is sighted. . . . Arthur's +ship . . . at the Lizard." + +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. + +"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." + +She struggled up for a second. A smile flitted across the worn +face. Then she fell back wearily. + +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." + +"Yes, dear. Now sleep. He is coming." + +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. + +"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." + +"Seen him!" the girl gasped. + +"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." + +The wan lips quivered. "He will NEVER marry me!" + +"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." + +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. + + + +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--" + +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." + +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." + +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." + +"Forgive my persistence," I replied; "but--her temperature has gone +down to ninety-nine and a trifle." + +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!" + +"But surely, sir--" I cried. + +"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." + +"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." + +He snapped his fingers. "Lethodyne! pooh! I have lost interest in +it. Impracticable! It is not fitted for the human species." + +"Why so? Number Fourteen proves--" + +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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE EPISODE OF THE GENTLEMAN WHO HAD FAILED FOR EVERYTHING + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"I have heard you speak of him," I answered, drinking him in with +my glance. I added internally, "Not half good enough for you." + +Hilda's eyes met mine and read my thought. They flashed back word, +in the language of eyes, "I do not agree with you." + +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. + +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. + +"Now, which would YOU advise me, Miss Tepping?" he inquired, after +we had discussed the matter some minutes. + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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?" + +Holsworthy rose too. "Mayn't I go with you?" he asked, eagerly. + +"Oh, if you like. How very kind of you!" Daphne answered, her +cheek a blush rose. "Hubert, will you come too? and you, Hilda?" + +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. + +"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." + +"You think he's in love with her?" I asked. + +"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." + +"Then what do you suppose is the matter?" + +"I have an inkling of the truth: I imagine Mr. Cecil must have let +himself in for a prior attachment." + +"If so, why does he hang about Daphne?" + +"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." + +"Is he well off? Could he afford to marry Daphne?" + +"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." + +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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +Just at that moment the door opened and my aunt entered. + +"Why, where's Daphne?" she cried, looking about her and arranging +her black lace shawl. + +"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." + +"What? That boy's been here again?" + +"Yes, Lady Tepping. He called to see Daphne." + +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_ 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." + +I nodded and beamed benignly. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Really, Aunt Fanny," I said; "you must recollect that a +professional man--" + +"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!" + +"Conceal them! My dearest aunt! Why, I danced twice with Daphne." + +"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_ 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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Which way are you walking?" I asked, as we turned out into the +street. + +"Towards my rooms in the Temple." + +"Oh! I'm going back to St. Nathaniel's," I continued. If you'll +allow me, I'll walk part way with you." + +"How very kind of you!" + +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. + +"You seem to think so," I answered, smiling. + +He flushed a little; the lantern jaw grew longer. "I admire her, +of course," he answered. "Who doesn't? She is so extraordinarily +handsome." + +"Well, not exactly handsome," I replied, with more critical and +kinsman-like deliberation. "Pretty, if you will; and decidedly +pleasing and attractive in manner." + +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." + +"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." + +"Clever!" he echoed. "Profound! She has a most unusual intellect. +She stands alone." + +"Like her mother's silk dresses," I murmured, half under my breath. + +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!" + +"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.) + +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." + +"There is such a thing as being TOO modest and unassuming," I +answered. "It sometimes leads to unintentional cruelty." + +"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?" + +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." + +His mouth twitched. "That's very serious!" he answered, gravely; +"very serious." + +"It is," I responded, with my best paternal manner, gazing blankly +in front of me. + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"So I anticipated," I answered, lighting up. + +He started and looked surprised. "Why, what made you guess it?" he +inquired. + +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?" + +"A great deal," he answered. "For example, the sense of my own +utter unworthiness." + +"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. + +"Unfortunately, yes. What do you think of her?" + +I scrutinised the features. "Seems a nice enough little thing," I +answered. It was an innocent face, I admit; very frank and +girlish. + +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. + +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. + +"In the theatrical profession?" I inquired at last, looking up. + +He hesitated. "Well, not exactly," he answered. + +I pursed my lips and blew a ring. "Music-hall stage?" I went on, +dubiously. + +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. + +"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." + +"Now, THERE you show prejudice!" + +"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." + +"I think she's a good girl," he retorted, slowly. + +"Then why do you want to throw her over?" I inquired. + +"I don't. That's just it. On the contrary, I mean to keep my word +and marry her." + +"IN ORDER to keep your word?" I suggested. + +He nodded. "Precisely. It is a point of honour." + +"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." + +He bared it instantly. "I thought I was in love with this girl, +you see," he went on, "till I saw Miss Tepping." + +"That makes a difference," I admitted. + +"And I couldn't bear to break her heart." + +"Heaven forbid!" I cried. "It is the one unpardonable sin. Better +anything than that." Then I grew practical. "Father's consent?" + +"MY father's? IS it likely? He expects me to marry into some +distinguished English family." + +I hummed a moment. "Well, out with it!" I exclaimed, pointing my +cigar at him. + +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--" + +"Precisely so," I murmured, knocking off my ash. "The usual self- +sacrifice! Case quite normal! Everything en regle!" + +"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--" + +"As a flower in May. Oh, yes; I don't doubt it. How did you come +to propose to her, though?" + +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--" + +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." + +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?" + +"Oh, no; she's on tour." + +"In the provinces?" + +"M'yes; just at present, at Scarborough." + +"But she writes to you?" + +"Every day." + +"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?" + +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." + +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." + +"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." + +"What, Daphne?" + +I smiled. "No, not Daphne," I answered. "Our friend, Miss Wade. +She has extraordinary insight." + +"I could trust anything to Miss Wade. She is true as steel." + +"You are right," I answered. "That shows that you, too, are a +judge of character." + +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." + +I grasped his hand. "My dear fellow," I said, "nearly ninety per +cent. of men, after all--are human!" + +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." + +I produced the photograph. "What do you make of that?" I asked. +"_I_ think it an honest face, myself, I may tell you." + +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.'" + +"You mean they are so much touched up!" + +"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." + +"You think so?" + +"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." + +"But the underlying face?" + +"Is a minx's." + +I handed her the letter. "This next?" I asked, fixing my eyes on +her as she looked. + +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." + +"You believe, then, there is character in handwriting?" + +"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!" + +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!" + +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." + +"How kind of you!" I cried. "But you are always all kindness." + +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. + +"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!" + +"You have seen her?" I asked. + +"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." + +"That's well," I answered. "That looks all right." + +"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." + +"Well, that was open and aboveboard," I continued, beginning to +fear we had hastily misjudged Miss Sissie Montague. + +"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." + +"And the other?" + +"Wasn't." + +"Did you note the name?" I asked, interested. + +"Yes; here it is." She handed me a slip of paper. + +I read it: "Reginald Nettlecraft, Esq., 427, Staples Inn, London." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Not a penny, I should say. An allowance from his father, perhaps, +who is a Lincolnshire parson; but otherwise, nothing." + +"Then, in my opinion, the young lady is playing for Mr. Holsworthy's +money; failing which, she will decline upon Mr. Nettlecraft's +heart." + +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." + +"Do. That will suffice. You can judge then for yourself whether +or not I am mistaken." + +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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +The old lady half rose. "Let me see," she said, staring at me. +"WHICH is Mr. Holsworthy, Siss?--is it Cecil or Reggie?" + +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. + +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. + +As it was, I went back to London the very next day, determined to +renew my slight acquaintance with Reggie Nettlecraft. + +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. + +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!" + +"That is my profession," I answered, unashamed. "And you?" + +"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." + +"And when you have failed for everything?" I inquired, just to test +his sense of humour. + +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." + +"Then why not mark your sense of the fact by leaving it?" I +inquired, with a smile. + +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." + +"And yet imperialists," I said, "generally gush over the colonies-- +the Empire on which the sun never sets." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"It's quite unimportant," I answered. "I was asked to ask you, and +I HAVE asked you." + +"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--" + +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?" + +"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?" + +"Oh, yes; I know her. I called on her, in fact, night before last, +at Scarborough." + +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." + +"What other Johnnie?" I asked, feeling we were getting near it. + +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." + +"I have certainly never aspired to the young lady's hand," I +answered, cautiously. "But don't you know your rival's name, +then?" + +"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!" + +"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. + +"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." + +"Got what?" I inquired, not quite catching the phrase. + +"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." + +"She writes to you, I think?" + +"That's so; every blooming day; but how the dummy did you come to +know it?" + +"She lays letters addressed to you on the hall table at her +lodgings in Scarborough." + +"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. + +"You really want to get rid of this other fellow?" I asked, seeing +my chance. + +"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!" + +"As a preliminary step, would you mind letting me see one of Miss +Montague's letters?" I inquired. + +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." + +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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"You have no compunctions?" I asked again, after reading it. + +Not a blessed compunction to my name." + +"Then neither have I," I answered. + +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. + +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?" + +"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." + +He sat down and wrote, much relieved that I took the responsibility +off his shoulders. + + +"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. + +"Faithfully yours, + +"CECIL HOLSWORTHY." + + +"Nothing more than that?" he asked, looking up and biting his pen. +"Not a word of regret or apology?" + +"Not a word," I answered. "You are really too lenient." + +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. + +I smiled. "My dear fellow, that is a matter for your own +consideration." + +"But--do you think she will laugh at me?" + +"Miss Montague?" + +"No! Daphne." + +"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." + +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!" + +"We are all unworthy of a good woman's love," I answered. "But, +thank Heaven, the good women don't seem to realise it." + +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. + +"Well, you won't believe it, Dr. Cumberledge," he began; "but--" + +"Yes, I DO believe it," I answered. "I know it. I have read it +already." + +"Read it!" he cried. "Where?" + +I waved my hand towards his face. "In a special edition of the +evening papers," I answered, smiling. "Daphne has accepted you!" + +He sank into an easy chair, beside himself with rapture. "Yes, +yes; that angel! Thanks to YOU, she has accepted me!" + +"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." + +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. + +"And I have given Daphne a husband who will love and appreciate +her," Hilda answered, flushing. + +"You see," I said, maliciously; "I told you they never find us out, +Holsworthy!" + +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. + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE EPISODE OF THE WIFE WHO DID HER DUTY + + +To make you understand my next yarn, I must go back to the date of +my introduction to Hilda. + +"It is witchcraft!" I said the first time I saw her, at Le Geyt's +luncheon-party. + +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." + +"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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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?" + +"You are quite correct. Then you knew my mother?" + +"Oh, dear me, no! I never even met her. Why THEN?" + +Her look was mischievous. "But, unless I mistake, I think she came +from Hendre Coed, near Bangor." + +"Wales is a village!" I exclaimed, catching my breath. "Every Welsh +person seems to know all about every other." + +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?" + +"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." + +She shut her eyes and seemed to turn her glance inward. + +"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. + +"Quite right," I answered, nodding. + +"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. + +"You are quite correct," I answered, surprised. "And that is +really all that you knew of my mother?" + +"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." + +"And can you do the same with everyone?" + +"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." + +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. + +But I am forgetting that all this time I have not even now +introduced my witch to you. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +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: + +"I think, before twelve mouths are out, MR. LE GEYT WILL HAVE +MURDERED HER!" + +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? + +I gasped and wondered. + +"What makes you fancy anything so unlikely?" I asked aside at last, +behind the babel of voices. "You quite alarm me." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +"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." + +"I know that," she answered, growing grave. "I ought to know it. +I am a nurse already at St. George's Hospital." + +"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." + +"I know that too; but . . . Sebastian is at St. Nathaniel's--and I +want to be near Sebastian." + +"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." + +"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." + +"You may trust me implicitly," I answered. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Thanks so much," she answered, with that delicious smile. It had +an infantile simplicity about it which contrasted most piquantly +with her prophetic manner. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +"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!" + +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?" + +"The victim? What do you mean?" + +"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." + +"But this is second sight!" I cried, drawing away. "Do you pretend +to prevision?" + +"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." + +"Explain yourself, oh, prophetess!" + +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. + +"What, Travers? Oh, intimately." + +"Then come to my ward and see. After you have seen, you will +perhaps believe me." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Nurse Wade has remarkable insight," Travers whispered to me as we +went. + +"I can believe it," I answered. + +"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?" + +"She is somewhat the same type," I began, "as Mrs.--" + +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?" + +"It is certainly rather a feeble crop for a woman of her age," I +admitted. "And pale at that, and washy." + +"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?" + +"Very," I replied. "Not exactly a stoop, nor yet quite a hunch, +but certainly an odd spinal configuration." + +"Like our friend's, once more?" + +"Like our friend's, exactly!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"That is because you know less about it than Nurse Wade," Travers +answered, with an annoying smile of superior knowledge. + +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." + +"It is certainly odd," I answered, "how very much they both recall--" + +"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." + +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." + +"They can pierce like a dagger," I mused. + +"And leave an open wound behind that requires dressing," Travers +added, unsuspecting. Practical man, Travers! + +"But WHY do they get assaulted--the women of this type?" I asked, +still bewildered. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"How did it all happen?" Travers asked, in a jaunty tone, to draw +her out. + +"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." + +"Oh, she has a tongue, has she?" Travers replied, surveying the +"case" critically. "Well, you know, she looks like it." + +"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." + +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!" + +"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. + +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. + +"Say to it?" I answered. "That it is wonderful, wonderful. You +have quite convinced me." + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +I felt really perturbed. "But can we do nothing," I cried, "to +warn poor Hugo?" + +"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?" + +"Then is there not also a type of men who assault their wives?" + +"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." + +"But surely we might caution Le Geyt of his danger!" + +"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." + +"You think so?" + +"I am sure of it. We human beings go straight like sheep to our +natural destiny." + +"But--that is fatalism." + +"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." + + + +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." + +"She knows enough to know when she doesn't know," I answered, +"which is really the rarest kind of knowledge." + +"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!" + +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." + +"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!" + +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. + +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." + +"Clara, dear," the husband said, "shall we go in to lunch?" + +"You dear, stupid boy! Are we not all waiting for YOU to give your +arm to Lady Maitland?" + +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_ 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. + +"Only you ought to explain, Clara--" Le Geyt began, in a deprecatory +tone. + +"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!" + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +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_ 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?" + +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--" + +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." + +"What a charming hostess Mrs. Le Geyt makes," the painter observed +to me, after lunch. "Such tact! Such discrimination! . . . AND, +what a devoted stepmother!" + +"She is one of the local secretaries of the Society for the +Prevention of Cruelty to Children," I said, drily. + +"And charity begins at home," Hilda Wade added, in a significant +aside. + +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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +I started. "You think not?" + +"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!" + +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_ require is +CHEERFUL obedience." + +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. + +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! + +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!" + +"You said within twelve months." + +"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!" + + + +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. + +"But not yet gone," she answered; and a profound sense of +foreboding spread over her speaking face as she uttered the words. + +Her oracle disquieted me. "Why, I dined there last night," I +cried; "and all seemed exceptionally well." + +"The calm before the storm, perhaps," she murmured. + +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!" + +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." + +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." + +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. + +"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!" + +"He will NOT be hanged," my witch answered, with the same +unquestioning confidence as ever. + +"Why not?" I asked, astonished once more at this bold prediction. + +She went on bandaging the arm of the patient whom she was attending. +"Because . . . he will commit suicide," she replied, without moving +a muscle. + +"How do you know that?" + +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." + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE EPISODE OF THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT COMMIT SUICIDE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +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!" + +She said "disaster," not "crime"; I noted mentally the reservation +implied in the word. + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"The General was killed in India during the Mutiny." + +"I remember, of course--killed, bravely fighting." + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"You are right," I admitted, after a minute's consideration. "I +see it now--though I should never have thought of it." + +"That is the use of being a woman," she answered. + +I waited a second once more, and mused. "Still, that is only one +doubtful case," I objected. + +"There was another, you must remember: his uncle Alfred." + +"Alfred Le Geyt?" + +"No; HE died in his bed, quietly. Alfred Faskally." + +"What a memory you have!" I cried, astonished. "Why, that was +before our time--in the days of the Chartist riots!" + +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." + +"You remember it directly?" + +"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." + +"So have I--but I forget it." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Luck in their suicides! What a curious phrase! And you say, +ALWAYS. Were there other cases, then?" + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"Le Geyt is not a coward," I interposed, with warmth. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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!" + +"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. + +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." + +"That is true," I answered, lip-reading. "I never thought of that +either." + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +Mrs. Mallet braced herself up visibly to a distressing effort. +"You have seen the body, Dr. Cumberledge?" she faltered. + +"No, dear Mrs. Mallet, I have not. I came straight from Nathaniel's. +I have had no time to see it." + +"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." + +I nodded assent. "Exactly; I have seen it there." + +"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." + +I bowed my head. "For us who knew Hugo that goes without saying." + +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?" + +"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--" + +Hilda Wade finished the sentence for me as I paused: "Hugo Le Geyt +consent to advance it." + +I lowered my head. "You have said it," I answered. + +"Not for the children's sake?" Mrs. Mallet cried, with clasped +hands. + +"Not for the children's sake, even," I answered. "Consider for a +moment, Mrs. Mallet: IS it true? Do you yourself BELIEVE it?" + +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!" + +"The real wonder is," Hilda murmured, soothing her white hand, +"that he contained himself so long!" + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +"Where do you think he has taken refuge?" + +"The police, Dr. Sebastian has ascertained, are watching the +railway stations, and the ports for the Continent." + +"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!" + +"You think he has not gone there, then?" I cried, deeply +interested. + +"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." + +"Where, then?" + +"WHERE comes last; HOW first. It is a question of inference." + +"Explain. We know your powers." + +"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." + +"No, no!" Mrs. Mallet cried. "To bring him back voluntarily, that +he may face his trial like a man!" + +"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." + +"You are probably right," I answered. "But would he have a razor?" + +"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." + +"The first country town?" + +"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." + +"But not by rail, you say?" + +"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." + +"But has his bicycle gone?" + +"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." + +"He is too good a criminal lawyer to have dreamt of taking his +own," Mrs. Mallet interposed, with another effort. + +"But where could he have hired or bought one at that time of +night?" I exclaimed. + +"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." + +"And then?" + +"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." + +"Great Western or South-Western? Why those two in particular? +Then, you have settled in your own mind which direction he has +taken?" + +"Pretty well. I judge by analogy. Lina, your brother was brought +up in the West Country, was he not?" + +Mrs. Mallet gave a weary nod. "In North Devon," she answered; "on +the wild stretch of moor about Hartland and Clovelly." + +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!" + +"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." + +"And the Le Geyts are always governed by first impulses," my +character-reader added. + +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. + +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?" + +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." + +"The very thing! Has he visited it since he grew up?" + +"To my knowledge, never." + +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." + +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." + +"And the other thing?" + +"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_ 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." + +"What an extraordinary insight into character you have!" I cried. +"You seem to divine what everybody's action will be under given +circumstances." + +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_ 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." + +"In one word," I said, "you are a psychologist." + +"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?" + +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. + +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." + +"I will find him," I answered, "if he is anywhere within twenty +miles of Hartland." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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! + +A very ordinary person; and Le Geyt bore the stamp of a born +gentleman. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +But some strange hand restrained me. Who was I that I should stand +between Hugo Le Geyt and the ways of Providence? + +The Le Geyts loved ever the ordeal by water. + +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! + +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! + +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. + +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?" + +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!" + +"You forget all there?" + +"I forget IT--the red horror!" + +"You meant just now to drown yourself?" + +"No! If I had meant it I would have done it. . . . Hubert, for my +children's sake, I WILL not commit suicide!" + +"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! + +"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." + +"Not for the children's sake?" + +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?" + +"Dear Hugo--I know all; and to know all is to forgive all." + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +It was the only sentence in which he ever alluded to her. + +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. + +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." + +"You will come back to London, then, and stand your trial?" I +asked, eagerly. + +"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!" + +I answered nothing. I left him to face his own remorse in silence. + +At last he rose to go, and held one foot undecided on his bicycle. + +"I leave myself in Heaven's hands," he said, as he lingered. "IT +will requite. . . . The ordeal is by water." + +"So I judged," I answered. + +"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." + +He mounted his machine and sailed off. My eyes followed him up the +path with sad forebodings. + +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. + +One of the men was Le Geyt, the other a fisherman. + +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. + +"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!" + +"Will he reach it?" I asked, anxiously, having my own idea on the +subject. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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." + +I did not realise at the time with what profound depth of personal +feeling she said it. + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE EPISODE OF THE NEEDLE THAT DID NOT MATCH + + +"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." + +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." + +"And he has done splendid work for humanity," I went on, growing +enthusiastic. + +"Splendid work! Yes, splendid! (Two lumps, I believe?) He has +done more, I admit, for medical science than any other man I ever +met." + +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." + +She passed me the muffins, and smiled her restrained smile. + +"Does the desire to do good to humanity in itself imply a +benevolent disposition?" she answered, obliquely. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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." + +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." + +"How do you mean? You ARE so enigmatic!" + +"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." + +"Then you mean to say it is chance that has made Sebastian?" + +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." + +"I see," I said. "The aim of medicine happens to be a benevolent +one." + +"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!' + +"Not good?" + +"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." + +"Sebastian would not do that," I cried. "He is wholly free from +the mean spirit of jealousy." + +"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." + +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?" + +A cloud passed over her brow. "I have reason to know it," she +answered, slowly. Then her voice changed. "Take another muffin." + +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!" + +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!" + +"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--" + +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." + +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--" + +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." + +"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--" + +At that moment, as unkindly fate would have it, the door opened, +and Sebastian entered. + +"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." + +The golden opportunity had come and gone. It was long before I +found a similar occasion for speaking to Hilda. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +_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. + +"You remember Yorke-Bannerman's case," he went on. "He committed a +murder--" + +"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. + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +"And _I_ know, too," Hilda answered, in a voice of placid +confidence. + +"Yet you are not afraid?" + +"It is not _I_ who have cause for fear. The accused may tremble, +not the prosecutor." + +"What! You threaten?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"I came for my clinical," I answered, with an unconcerned air. "I +have somehow managed to mislay it in the laboratory." + +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?" + +"The woman in 93? Delirious?" + +"No, no. Nurse Wade?" + +"Hear her?" I echoed, I must candidly admit with intent to deceive. +"When she broke the basin?" + +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!" + +"She is the most intelligent nurse we have ever had in the place, +sir," I objected, stoutly. + +He nodded his head twice. "Intelligent--je vous l'accorde; but +dangerous--dangerous!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"Of Nurse Wade?" I asked, catching my breath. + +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." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +"Yes, I saw you." + +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." + +"In a culture?" I asked; for I guessed her meaning. + +She nodded. "Yes, to see what that man has done to it." + +"What do you suspect?" + +She shrugged her graceful shoulders half imperceptibly. + +"How should I know? Anything!" + +I gazed at the needle closely. "What made you distrust it?" I +inquired at last, still eyeing it. + +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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"That was wonderfully quick of you!" + +"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." + +"You think it is poisoned, then?" + +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." + +"Fifteen years ago he used poison?" + +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." + +"And what do you suspect now?" I asked, the weird sense of her +strange power deepening on me every second. + +She held up the incriminated needle again. + +"Do you see this groove?" she asked, pointing to it with the tip of +another. + +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. + +"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." + +"Which was?" + +"Try the needle, and judge for yourself. I prefer you should find +out. You can tell me to-morrow." + +"It was quick of you to detect it!" I cried, still turning the +suspicious object over. "The difference is so slight." + +"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." + +"Still, Hilda, I am loth--" + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +"Blood-poisoning!" I ejaculated, horror-struck. + +"Aye; blood-poisoning: that's the English of it." + +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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +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." + +"You anticipated that result?" + +"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." + +I gazed at her, uncertain. "And what will you DO?" I asked. +"Expose him?" + +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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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--" + +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!" + +It was the first time she had ever called me by my Christian name. +The mere sound of the word made me unspeakably happy. + +Yet she waved me away. "Must I go?" I asked, quivering. + +"Yes, yes: you must go. I cannot stand it. I must think this +thing out, undisturbed. It is a very great crisis." + +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. + +"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? + + +"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, + +"HILDA." + + +It was a hurried scrawl in pencil, as if written in a train. I +felt utterly dejected. Was Hilda, then, leaving England? + +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. + +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!" + +"She retains that hold upon me, sir," I answered curtly. + +"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." + +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. + +"You do not believe it? I tell you it is so. The girl herself as +good as acknowledged it to me." + +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_ 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." + +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." + +Even at that moment of detection and disgrace, in one man's eyes, +at least, Sebastian retained his full measure of dignity. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE EPISODE OF THE LETTER WITH THE BASINGSTOKE POSTMARK + + +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_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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? + +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. + +"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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +"Ha? Looked black, did it?" I faltered. + +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. + +"I believe the Crown urged money as the motive?" I suggested. + +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." + +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." + +He gave a quick start. "What, Maisie?" he exclaimed. + +I shook my head. "No, no; that is not the name," I replied. + +He hesitated a moment. "But there IS no other," he hazarded +cautiously at last. "I knew the family." + +"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." + +"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_ 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!" + +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." + +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." + +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." + +"With aconitine?" I suggested, eagerly. + +"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." + +"What! Sebastian found it out?" I cried, starting. + +"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." + +"And you BELIEVE that, Mr. Mayfield?" + +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." + +"But it was never tried," I ejaculated. + +"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." + +"You think, then, the case would have gone against him?" + +"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. + +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--" + +He smiled this time till I thought his smile would swallow him. + +"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?" + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +"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, + +"CHARLOTTE CHURTWOOD." + + +In the corner was the address: "11, Chubb's Cottages, Basingstoke." + +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. + +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. + +"Do you know what train the lady was in?" I asked, as she paused. +"Where was it going, did you notice?" + +"It was the Southampton train, sir. I saw the board on the +carriage." + +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." + +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? + +No; nobody of that name on the list. + +Had any lady taken a passage at the last moment? + +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. + +What sort of lady? + +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. + +"That will do," I answered, sure now of my quarry. "To which port +did she book?" + +"To Cape Town." + +"Very well," I said, promptly. "You may reserve me a good berth in +the next outgoing steamer." + +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. + +Ten days later, I was afloat on the Channel, bound for South +Africa. + +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. + +"Dr. Cumberledge?" he said, in an inquiring tone. + +I nodded. "That is my name." + +"I have a letter for you, sir." + +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. + +I tore it open and read: + + +"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. + +"Your ever attached and grateful, + +"HILDA." + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I could hardly believe my eyes. Civilisation indeed! A bicycle in +these remotest wilds of Africa! + +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! + +One moment later I had burst into a wild cry, and rode forward to +her hurriedly. "Hilda!" I shouted aloud, in my excitement: +"Hilda!" + +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. + +"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!" + +"Then you are not angry with me?" I cried. "You remember, you +forbade me!" + +"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!" + +"And yet you begged me not to follow you!" + +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!" + +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." + +"Which means to say, Hilda, that, after all, you are still a +woman!" + +"A woman; oh, yes; very much a woman! Hubert, I love you; I half +wish I did not." + +"Why, darling?" I drew her to me. + +"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." + +"Then divide it," I cried gaily; "do neither; come away with me!" + +"No, no; nor that, either. I will not stultify my whole past life. +I will not dishonour my dear father's memory." + +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. + +"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. + +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?" + +"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?" + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +"Why fruitless?" I asked, leaning forward. + +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." + +"Hilda," I cried, "you are a witch! How COULD you know that? I +can't imagine." + +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." + +"And yet," I said, "he is so great." + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +"Most people think to be complex is to be great," I objected. + +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." + +"Then you knew I would come," I exclaimed, half pleased to find I +belonged inferentially to her higher category. + +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." + +"So you believed in me?" + +"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." + +"You know I know all--because Sebastian told me?" + +"Yes; and I think I even know how you answered him." + +"How?" + +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." + +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. + +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?" + +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!" + +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?" + +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!" + +"I believe it already," I answered. "What need, then, to prove +it?" + +"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!" + +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." + +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.'" + +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." + +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! + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE EPISODE OF THE STONE THAT LOOKED ABOUT IT + + +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. + +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. + +"Then you live here?" I cried, gazing round--my voice, I suppose, +betraying my latent sense of the unworthiness of the position. + +"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." + +"That is an unkind conjunction!" I exclaimed, reddening. + +"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." + +"You are cruel, Hilda!" + +"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." + +"Upset your plans? How?" + +"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_ 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." + +"I never thought of that!" I cried, aghast. + +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." + +I was mutely penitent. "And yet, you forgive me, Hilda?" + +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." + +"What are you doing at this farm?" I gazed round at it, +dissatisfied. + +"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." + +"And what am _I_ to do?" I cried, oppressed with a sudden sense of +helplessness. + +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?" + +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." + +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?" + +"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." + +Her smile was not wholly without a touch of triumph. + +"In that case," she went on, "I suppose the only alternative is for +you to remain here." + +"That would appear to be logic," I replied. "But what can I do? +Set up in practice?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +I saw at once what this meant. A rising of the Matabele! + +I had come back from Salisbury, unknowing it, into the midst of a +revolt of bloodthirsty savages. + +Yet, even if I had known, I must still have hurried home with all +speed to Klaas's--to protect Hilda. + +Hilda? Where was Hilda? A breathless sinking crept over me. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +I called the name aloud: "Hilda! Hilda! Hilda!" + +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! + +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!" + +"Are they gone?" she asked, staring about her with a terrified air, +though still strangely preserving her wonted composure of manner. + +"Who gone? The Matabele?" + +"Yes, yes!" + +"Did you see them, Hilda?" + +"For a moment--with black shields and assegais, all shouting madly. +You have been to the house, Hubert? You know what has happened?" + +"Yes, yes, I know--a rising. They have massacred the Klaases." + +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." + +"It is a perfect deception," I answered, admiring her instinctive +cleverness even then. "I never so much as noticed you." + +"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!" + +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?" + +"It is the only thing possible--if my machine is unhurt. They may +have taken it . . . or ridden over and broken it." + +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." + +"Give her bread," Hilda suggested. "That will hearten her more +than corn. There is plenty in the house; Tant Mettie baked this +morning." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +I hesitated. "You CAN'T go in there again, Hilda!" I cried. +"Wait, and let me do it." + +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. + +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. + +"I must take the baby," I said. + +She shook her head. + +"Oh, no. I will not trust her to you." + +"Hilda, I insist." + +"And I insist, too. It is my place to take her." + +"But can you ride so?" I asked, anxiously. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"They may have sacked Salisbury!" I exclaimed at last, looking out +towards the brand-new town. + +"I doubt it," Hilda answered. Her very doubt reassured me. + +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! + +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! + +"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. + +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." + +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." + +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." + +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!" + +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. + +"Then YOU must take the pony," I called out, "and let me have the +bicycle!" + +"You couldn't ride it," she called back. "It is a woman's machine, +remember." + +"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!" + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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! + +After a second, I asked once more, with bated breath, "Is he +gaining?" + +She looked back. "Yes; gaining." + +A pause. "And now?" + +"Still gaining. He is poising an assegai." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +"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!" + +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!" + +"How do you know?" I gasped. But I believed her. + +"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!" + +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!" + +The men let their rifles drop, and rode down towards us. "Who are +you?" I cried. + +They saluted us, military fashion. "Matabele police, sah," the +leader answered, recognising me. "You are flying from Klaas's?" + +"Yes," I answered. "They have murdered Klaas, with his wife and +child. Some of them are now following us." + +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!" + +"The Salisbury people know of this rising, then?" I asked. + +"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." + +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. + +Suddenly, Hilda's voice came wafted to me, as through a mist. +"What are you doing, Hubert? You'll be off in a minute!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +As the words fell from his lips, I saw the face. I gave a quick +little start, then recovered my composure. + +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. + +"Seen whom?" + +"Sebastian." + +It was useless denying it to HER. "Yes, I have seen him," I +answered, in a confidential aside. + +"Just now--this moment--at the back of the house--looking in at the +window upon us?" + +"You are right--as always." + +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." + +"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." + +Hilda's face was like a drowned man's. + +"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?" + +"Still, I am loth to believe--" I cried. + +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." + +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. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE EPISODE OF THE EUROPEAN WITH THE KAFFIR HEART + + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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?" + +"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?" + +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?" + +"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." + +"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_ 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!" + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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." + +"But Sebastian himself?" I urged. "Take him first, in isolation." + +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." + +"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?" + +"Sebastian? Oh, no; that is the absolute antipodes of his type and +temperament." + +"He will never give up because of a temporary check, you think?" + +"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." + +"I see; but having failed in that?" + +"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." + +"But taking Sebastian himself; alone?" + +"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.'" + +"Who is no tactician?" I murmured, half aloud. + +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?'" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +She reflected once more. "Do you mean to say anything of our +suspicions in Salisbury, Hubert?" she asked at last. + +"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." + +"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?" + +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." + +"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." + +"I shall give in my name with the rest," I answered. + +"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." + +"They will shoot him red-handed if they catch him," I answered +confidently. "A white man who sides with the blacks in an +insurrection!" + +"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." + +"Why so, Hilda?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Then you should never let them get to close quarters," I +suggested, catching the general drift of his inarticulate swift +pictures. + +"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. Per-dition! . . . 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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Experience?" Colebrook asked in his brief shorthand of speech, +running his ferret eyes over me. + +"None," I answered; "but a noiseless tread and a capacity for +crawling through holes in hedges which may perhaps be useful." + +He glanced inquiry at Doolittle, who was a shorter and stouter man, +with a knack of getting over obstacles by sheer forcefulness. + +"Hands and knees!" he said, abruptly, in the imperative mood, +pointing to a clump of dry grass with thorny bushes ringed about +it. + +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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +He nodded assent. "Couldn't see him," he said shortly. "But he's +there, right enough. White man. Heard 'em talk of him." + +"What did they say?" I asked, eagerly. + +"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." + +"They said that?" I exclaimed, taken aback. "Kill all the white +women!" + +"Yes. Kill all. White witches, every one. The young ones worst. +Word of the great induna." + +"And you could not see him?" + +"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." + +"What sort of voice? Like this?" And I imitated Sebastian's cold, +clear-cut tone as well as I was able. + +"The man! That's him, Doctor. You've got him down to the ground. +The very voice. Heard him giving orders." + +That settled the question. I was certain of it now. Sebastian was +with the insurgents. + +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?" + +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. + +"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!" + +"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!" + +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!" + +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! + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +I seized Colebrook's arm, almost speechless with anger. "The white +man!" I cried. "The traitor!" + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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!" + +On we rode, still gaining. "Now, now," I cried, "we shall catch +him!" + +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. + +He had gained a little by his shots, but we soon caught it up. +Once more I said, "We are on him!" + +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. + +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. + +"We have him now!" I cried, in a voice of triumph. And Colebrook +echoed, "We have him!" + +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!" + +"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!" + +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. + +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!" + +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? + +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!" + +I saw our mistake at once. We had left our companion out there +alone, rendered helpless by the care of all three horses. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +"Yes; how did you know?" + +"I read it in your step. But I guessed as much before. He is so +very keen; and you started too confident." + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE EPISODE OF THE LADY WHO WAS VERY EXCLUSIVE + + +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. + +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. + +"You will go home, of course?" I said to Hilda, when we came to +talk it all over. + +She shook her head. "To England? Oh, no. I must pursue my Plan. +Sebastian will have gone home; he expects me to follow." + +"And why don't you?" + +"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." + +"Where?" + +"Why do you ask, Hubert?" + +"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." + +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." + +"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_ 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." + +"My dear Hubert, have I ever denied that I was a woman?" + +"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." + +"Dear Hubert, I am ruining your life!" + +"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." + +She smiled, and came back to earth. "Oh, if you MUST know, to +India, by the east coast, changing steamers at Aden." + +"Extraordinary!" I cried. "Do you know, Hilda, as luck will have +it, _I_ also shall be on my way to Bombay by the very same +steamer!" + +"But you don't know what steamer it is?" + +"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." + +She looked up at me with a gathering film in her eyes. "Hubert, +you are irrepressible!" + +"I am, my dear child; so you may as well spare yourself the +needless trouble of trying to repress me." + +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! + +"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." + +"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." + +"Now do be serious, Hubert! I am going to invent an object in life +for us." + +"What object?" + +"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." + +"And am I to attach myself to her, too?" + +"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." + +"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--" + +"Don't talk nonsense. It is YOU who are wandering from the +question now. Please return to it." + +I returned at once. "So I am to depend on what turns up?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"Well, what?" I answered, unsuspecting. + +"I told you everything turned up at the end!" she said, confidently. +"Look at the lady's nose!" + +"It does turn up at the end--certainly," I answered, glancing back +at her. "But I hardly see--" + +"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." + +"Her nose tells you that?" + +"Her nose, in part; but her face as a whole, too, her dress, her +chair, her mental attitude to things in general." + +"My dear Hilda, you can't mean to tell me you have divined her +whole nature at a glance, by magic!" + +"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." + +"You have been astonishingly quick!" I cried. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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?" + +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." + +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. + +"Why do you think she is EXCLUSIVE?" I asked Hilda as we strolled +on towards the stern, out of the spoilt child's hearing. + +"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." + +"Now, Hilda, that is the first time I have ever known you to show +any feminine ill-nature!" + +"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." + +"You have decided quickly." + +"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." + +"But she seems so complaining!" I interposed. "I'm afraid, if you +take her on, you'll get terribly bored with her." + +"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." + +"All things, Hilda?" I asked, meaningly, with a little tremor of +delight. + +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." + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +"Of course not. You forget. There my memory comes in. I simply +remember it." + +"You remember it? How?" + +"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.'" + +"Clitheroe--Gubbins; what on earth has that to do with it? That +would be Mrs. Gubbins: this is Lady Meadowcroft." + +"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.' + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Really, Hilda, you know everything about everybody! And what do +you suppose they're going to India for?" + +"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." + +"They don't seem inclined to give us much chance of talking," I +objected. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +"You have had relations in Burma?" Lady Meadowcroft persisted. + +I manifested a desire to discontinue the conversation. "Yes," I +answered, coldly, "my uncle commanded there." + +"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." + +"He was a certain Sir Malcolm Tepping," I blurted out, staring hard +at my plate. + +"Tepping! I think I have heard Dick speak of him, Ivor." + +"Your cousin," Sir Ivor answered, with emphatic dignity, "is +certain to have mixed with nobbut the highest officials in Burma." + +"Yes, I'm sure Dick used to speak of a certain Sir Malcolm. My +cousin's name, Dr. Cumberledge, was Maltby--Captain Richard +Maltby." + +"Indeed," I answered, with an icy stare. "I cannot pretend to the +pleasure of having met him." + +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. + +"Oh, dear, no," I answered, with a glassy smile. "We are not +connected in any way." + +"But you are travelling together!" + +"Merely as you and I are travelling together--fellow-passengers on +the same steamer." + +"Still, you have met before." + +"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. + +"And what are you both going to do when you get to India?" + +"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." + +"Then you are not going out to take an appointment?" + +"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!" + +I waited a second. "No," I answered, slowly. "I have not been +practising of late. I am looking about me. I travel for +enjoyment." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"A delightful book!" Hilda answered. "The Buddhist Praying Wheel, +by William Simpson." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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. + +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." + +"Nervous about what?" + +"About disease, chiefly. She has the temperament that dreads +infection--and therefore catches it." + +"Why do you think so?" + +"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." + +"And you attach importance to her fear?" + +"Of course. I count upon it as probably our chief means of +catching and fixing her." + +"As how?" + +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." + +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." + +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!" + +"Why not?" he asked, astonished. + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +"Then you positively refuse?" he asked, wistfully, drawing back. +I could see he stood in a certain dread of that imperious little +woman. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +Hilda looked up at her calmly. "Not in the least," she answered. +"I have nursed hundreds of cases." + +"Oh, my, how dreadful! And never caught it?" + +"Never. I am not afraid, you see." + +"I wish _I_ wasn't! Hundreds of cases! It makes one ill to think +of it! . . . And all successfully?" + +"Almost all of them." + +"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. + +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." + +"You really mean it?" Her face was pleading. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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." + +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?" + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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--" + +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." + +"Which only shows," Lady Meadowcroft broke in, "that one ought +always to have a LADY to nurse one." + +"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. + +"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!" + +"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." + +"But do you think you will be able to stand her?" I asked. + +"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." + +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. + +"How's the plague at Bombay now?" an inquisitive passenger inquired +of the Captain at dinner our last night out. "Getting any better?" + +Lady Meadowcroft's thumb dived between her fingers again. "What! +is there plague in Bombay?" she asked, innocently, in her nervous +fashion. + +"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." + +"A microbe, I believe, Dr. Boyell," the inquisitive passenger +observed deferentially, with due respect for medical science. + +"Yes," the ship's doctor answered, helping himself to an olive. +"Forty million microbes to each square inch of the Bombay +atmosphere." + +"And we are going to Bombay!" Lady Meadowcroft exclaimed, aghast. + +"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." + +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_ 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." + +"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." + +"Oh, only a nurse--" Lady Meadowcroft began, and then coloured up +deeply, with a side glance at Hilda. + +"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." + +"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. + +"Not a bit of it!" the Captain answered, with provoking +cheerfulness. "Rampaging about like a roaring lion all over +India!" + +Lady Meadowcroft's thumb must have suffered severely. The nails +dug into it as if it were someone else's. + +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?" + +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." + +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?" + +"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." + +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!" + +So Hilda won her point; and what was best, won it fairly. + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE EPISODE OF THE GUIDE WHO KNEW THE COUNTRY + + +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. + +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. + +The only thing that did NOT bore her, indeed, was Hilda's bright +talk. + +"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_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +"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_ 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." + +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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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?" + +"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." + +"But, Ivor, I don't want to be skinned alive! I'm not an eel, +please!" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What do you make of our guide?" I asked of Hilda on our fourth day +out. I began somehow to distrust him. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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." + +"Goodness gracious!" Lady Meadowcroft cried, clinging tight to +Hilda. "Miss Wade, this is dreadful! Where on earth have you +brought us to?" + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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!" + +"Why do you think so?" I asked, low. + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"What does he, say?" I asked, as soon as he had finished speaking. + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"What is his answer?" I asked the cook, in my haughtiest voice. I +am haughty with difficulty. + +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." + +"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." + +The fat priest spoke again. "What does he say this time?" I +asked. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +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. + +"But--OUGHT we to save our lives? Oughtn't we to be . . . well, +Christian martyrs?" + +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." + +"But . . . really . . . I'm afraid . . ." + +"Don't be afraid of anything, dear, or you will risk all. Follow +my lead; _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!" + +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. + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +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! + +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." + +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." + +They kept their countenances with admirable decorum. + +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. + +Then I opened our stores, and drew out with a flourish--our last +remaining bottle of Simla soda-water. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"What is Karma?" I asked, listlessly. + +"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." + +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. + +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!" + +"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!" + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +"Why so?" I asked, as astonished as I was pleased. + +"Priest-sahib say, he like you very much; oh, very, very much; no +want to see village people kill you." + +"Kill us! But I thought they believed we were saints!" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Not Ram Das?" I asked, suspiciously. + +"No, not Ram Das. Very good man--Tibetan." + +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. + +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. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE EPISODE OF THE OFFICER WHO UNDERSTOOD PERFECTLY + + +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." + +She seemed to think that orchids originated in Covent Garden. + +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. + +"Ask him what he wants," I cried, turning to our fair-weather +friend, the cook. + +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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Where did you learn English?" I exclaimed, more and more +astonished. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Plague?" I repeated, startled. He nodded. + +"Yes, plague; all same like dem hab him so bad down Bombay way." + +"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. + +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." + +"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?" + +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. + +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." + +"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?" + +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?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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! + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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!" + +I spoke again, bending over him. "How long have the glandular +swellings been present, Professor?" I asked, with quiet +deliberativeness. + +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!" + +"WHO told you I was dead?" I asked, sternly. + +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." + +"He told you a lie," I said, shortly. + +"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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +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!" + +"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." + +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?" + +"And may the just side win," I answered, solemnly. + +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. + +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." + +"Thank God for that!" Hilda said, and glided away silently. + +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." + +"I wish they would move you to tell the truth," I answered. + +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!" + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +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." + +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. + +"And now, what do you mean to do?" I asked Hilda, when our patient +was placed in other hands, and all was over. + +She answered me without one second's hesitation: "Go straight to +Bombay, and wait there till Sebastian takes passage for England." + +"He will go home, you think, as soon as he is well enough?" + +"Undoubtedly. He has now nothing more to stop in India for." + +"Why not as much as ever?" + +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." + +"Then when he engages a berth, you propose to go by the same +steamer?" + +"Yes. It makes all the difference. When he tries to follow we, 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." + +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. + +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. + +The clerk produced it. + +I scanned it in haste. To my surprise and delight, a pencilled +entry half-way down the list gave the name, "Professor Sebastian." + +"Oh, Sebastian is going by this steamer?" I murmured, looking up. + +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." + +"Or wishes to avoid," I thought to myself, inwardly; but I did not +say so. I asked instead, "Is he coming again?" + +"Yes, I think so: at 5.30." + +"And she sails at seven?" + +"At seven, punctually. Passengers must be aboard by half-past six +at latest." + +"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." + +"You don't want a passage, sir? You may be the friend he's +expecting." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Professor Sebastian been here again?" I asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +The sandy-haired man did look sharp; and within three minutes we +were driving off with our tickets to Prince's Dock landing-stage. + +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. + +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--" + +"What a lovely evening, Hubert!" Hilda said to me, in an apparently +unconcerned voice, as the Professor reached this point in his +exposition. + +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!" + +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." + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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!" + +"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." + +"We can't see the Ushant light," Hilda remarked, looking ahead. + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +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!" + +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." + +The first officer shrugged his shoulders. There was no time for +protest. "Next, then," he said, quickly. "Miss Martin--Miss +Weatherly!" + +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!" + +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. + +Hilda loosened his grasp resolutely. "No, no," she answered, "I +cannot fly. I shall never leave you." + +"Not even if I promise--" + +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." + +His gaze was now pure admiration. "As you will," he answered. +"For he that loseth his life shall gain it." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +I bent over and felt his pulse. As far as I could make out, it +still beat feebly. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE EPISODE OF THE DEAD MAN WHO SPOKE + + + +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. + +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?" + +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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +Sebastian opened his eyes dreamily. "A boat?" he asked. + +"Yes, a boat!" + +"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." + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +"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." + +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!" + +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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"So I think. The change is but temporary. He will not last out +three days more, I fancy." + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"But you hated once to see me!" + +"Because I have so wronged you." + +"And now? Will you do nothing to repair the wrong?" + +"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." + +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." + +Sebastian shrank back. "Given before witnesses, and signed and +sworn to! Maisie, is this humiliation necessary; do you exact it?" + +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?" + +He paused and struggled. "I could--if it were not for you," he +answered. + +"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. + +He paused once more. Then he murmured feebly, in a querulous tone, +"What witnesses? Whom do you wish to be present?" + +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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"And then--the delay! Suppose that we are too late?" + +"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." + +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." + +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." + +"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?" + +The great Q.C. fingered his cigarette-holder affectionately. + +"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." + +"But surely a confession--" + +"Ah, well, let me hear the confession, and then I shall be better +able to judge." + +Even as he spoke Hilda had entered the room. + +"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." + +"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." + +But such distinctions are too subtle for a loving woman. + +"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." + +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. + +The stimulant brought a shade of colour into his ghastly cheeks, +and the old quick, intelligent gleam came back into his deep sunk +eyes. + +"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." + +He paused for breath, and she gave him another small sip of the +brandy. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"'The patient,' said he, 'is my uncle, Admiral Scott Prideaux.' + +"'Your uncle!' I cried, in amazement. 'But how came he to develop +such a condition?' + +"'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.' + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Hilda was listening, with a set, white face. + +"Proceed!" said she, and held out the brandy once more. + +"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." + +"Proceed!" said she. + +"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!" + +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: + + + This is our Master, famous, calm, and dead, + Borne on our shoulders. + + +Hilda Wade, standing beside me, with an awestruck air, added a +stanza from the same great poem: + + + Lofty designs must close in like effects: + Loftily lying, + Leave him--still loftier than the world suspects, + Living and dying. + + +I gazed at her with admiration. "And it is YOU, Hilda, who pay him +this generous tribute!" I cried, "YOU, of all women!" + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HILDA WADE *** + +This file should be named hilda10.txt or hilda10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, hilda11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, hilda10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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