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diff --git a/5422-h/5422-h.htm b/5422-h/5422-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d71f66 --- /dev/null +++ b/5422-h/5422-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12891 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Masquerader, by Katherine Cecil Thurston + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Masquerader, by Katherine Cecil Thurston + +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: The Masquerader + +Author: Katherine Cecil Thurston + +Release Date: April, 2004 [EBook #5422] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MASQUERADER *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE MASQUERADER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Katherine Cecil Thurston + </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"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXXIV </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + Two incidents, widely different in character yet bound together by + results, marked the night of January the twenty-third. On that night the + blackest fog within a four years' memory fell upon certain portions of + London, and also on that night came the first announcement of the border + risings against the Persian government in the province of Khorasan the + announcement that, speculated upon, even smiled at, at the time, assumed + such significance in the light of after events. + </p> + <p> + At eight o'clock the news spread through the House of Commons; but at nine + men in the inner lobbies were gossiping, not so much upon how far Russia, + while ostensibly upholding the Shah, had pulled the strings by which the + insurgents danced, as upon the manner in which the 'St. George's Gazette', + the Tory evening newspaper, had seized upon the incident and shaken it in + the faces of the government. + </p> + <p> + More than once before, Lakely—the owner and editor of the 'St. + George's'—had stepped outside the decorous circle of tradition and + taken a plunge into modern journalism, but to-night he essayed deeper + waters than before, and under an almost sensational heading declared that + in this apparently innocent border rising we had less an outcome of mere + racial antagonism than a first faint index of a long-cherished Russian + scheme, growing to a gradual maturity under the “drift” policy of the + present British government. + </p> + <p> + The effect produced by this pronouncement, if strong, was varied. Members + of the Opposition saw, or thought they saw, a reflection of it in the + smiling unconcern on the Ministerial benches; and the government had an + uneasy sense that behind the newly kindled interest on the other side of + the House lay some mysterious scenting of battle from afar off. But though + these impressions ran like electricity through the atmosphere, nothing + tangible marked their passage, and the ordinary business of the House + proceeded until half-past eleven, when an adjournment was moved. + </p> + <p> + The first man to hurry from his place was John Chilcote, member for East + Wark. He passed out of the House quickly, with the half-furtive quickness + that marks a self-absorbed man; and as he passed the policeman standing + stolidly under the arched door-way of the big court-yard he swerved a + little, as if startled out of his thoughts. He realized his swerve almost + before it was accomplished, and pulled himself together with nervous + irritability. + </p> + <p> + “Foggy night, constables,” he said, with elaborate carelessness. + </p> + <p> + “Foggy night, sir, and thickening up west,” responded the man. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed!” Chilcote's answer was absent. The constable's cheery voice + jarred on him, and for the second time he was conscious of senseless + irritation. + </p> + <p> + Without a further glance at the man, he slipped out into the court-yard + and turned towards the main gate. + </p> + <p> + At the gate-way two cab lamps showed through the mist of shifting fog like + the eyes of a great cat, and the familiar “Hansom, sir?” came to him + indistinctly. + </p> + <p> + He paused by force of custom; and, stepping forward, had almost touched + the open door when a new impulse caused him to draw back. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, hurriedly. “No. I'll walk.” + </p> + <p> + The cabman muttered, lashed his horse, and with a clatter of hoofs and + harness wheeled away; while Chilcote, still with uncertain hastiness, + crossed the road in the direction of Whitehall. + </p> + <p> + About the Abbey the fog had partially lifted, and in the railed garden + that faces the Houses of Parliament the statues were visible in a spectral + way. But Chilcote's glance was unstable and indifferent; he skirted the + railings heedlessly, and, crossing the road with the speed of long + familiarity, gained Whitehall on the lefthand side. + </p> + <p> + There the fog had dropped, and, looking upward towards Trafalgar Square, + it seemed that the chain of lamps extended little farther than the Horse + Guards, and that beyond lay nothing. + </p> + <p> + Unconscious of this capricious alternation between darkness and light, + Chilcote continued his course. To a close observer the manner of his going + had both interest and suggestion; for though he walked on, apparently + self-engrossed, yet at every dozen steps he started at some sound or some + touch, like a man whose nervous system is painfully overstrung. + </p> + <p> + Maintaining his haste, he went deliberately forward, oblivious of the fact + that at each step the curtain of darkness about him became closer, damper, + more tangible; that at each second the passers-by jostled each other with + greater frequency. Then, abruptly, with a sudden realization of what had + happened, he stood quite still. Without anticipation or preparation he had + walked full into the thickness of the fog—a thickness so dense that, + as by an enchanter's wand, the figures of a moment before melted, the + street lamps were sucked up into the night. + </p> + <p> + His first feeling was a sense of panic at the sudden isolation, his second + a thrill of nervous apprehension at the oblivion that had allowed him to + be so entrapped. The second feeling outweighed the first. He moved + forward, then paused again, uncertain of himself. Finally, with the + consciousness that inaction was unbearable, he moved on once more, his + eyes wide open, one hand thrust out as a protection and guide. + </p> + <p> + The fog had closed in behind him as heavily as in front, shutting off all + possibility of retreat; all about him in the darkness was a confusion of + voices—cheerful, dubious, alarmed, or angry; now and then a sleeve + brushed his or a hand touched him tentatively. It was a strange moment, a + moment of possibilities, to which the crunching wheels, the oaths and + laughter from the blocked traffic of the road-way, made a continuous + accompaniment. + </p> + <p> + Keeping well to the left, Chilcote still beat on; there was a persistence + in his movements that almost amounted to fear—a fear born of the + solitude filled with innumerable sounds. For a space he groped about him + without result, then his fingers touched the cold surface of a shuttered + shop-front, and a thrill of reassurance passed through him. With renewed + haste, and clinging to his landmark as a blind man might, he started + forward with fresh impetus. + </p> + <p> + For a dozen paces he moved rapidly and unevenly, then the natural result + occurred. He collided with a man coming in the opposite direction. + </p> + <p> + The shock was abrupt. Both men swore simultaneously, then both laughed. + The whole thing was casual, but Chilcote was in that state of mind when + even the commonplace becomes abnormal. The other man's exclamation, the + other man's laugh, struck on his nerves; coming out of the darkness, they + sounded like a repetition of his own. + </p> + <p> + Nine out of every ten men in London, given the same social position and + the same education, might reasonably be expected to express annoyance or + amusement in the same manner, possibly in the same tone of voice; and + Chilcote remembered this almost at the moment of his nervous jar. + </p> + <p> + “Beastly fog!” he said, aloud. “I'm trying to find Grosvenor Square, but + the chances seem rather small.” + </p> + <p> + The other laughed again, and again the laugh upset Chilcote. He wondered + uncomfortably if he was becoming a prey to illusions. But the stranger + spoke before the question had solved itself. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid they are small,” he said. “It would be almost hard to find + one's way to the devil on a night like this.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote made a murmur of amusement and drew back against the shop. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. We can see now where the blind man scores in the matter of + salvation. This is almost a repetition of the fog of six years ago. Were + you out in that?” + </p> + <p> + It was a habit of his to jump from one sentence to another, a habit that + had grown of late. + </p> + <p> + “No.” The stranger had also groped his way to the shopfront. “No, I was + out of England six years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “You were lucky.” Chilcote turned up the collar of his coat. “It was an + atrocious fog, as black as this, but more universal. I remember it well. + It was the night Lexington made his great sugar speech. Some of us were + found on Lambeth Bridge at three in the morning, having left the House at + twelve.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote seldom indulged in reminiscences, but this conversation with an + unseen companion was more like a soliloquy than a dialogue. He was almost + surprised into an exclamation when the other caught up his words. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! The sugar speech!” he said. “Odd that I should have been looking it + up only yesterday. What a magnificent dressing-up of a dry subject it was! + What a career Lexington promised in those days!” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote changed his position. + </p> + <p> + “You are interested in the muddle down at Westminster?” he asked, + sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “I—?” It was the turn of the stranger to draw back a step. “Oh, I + read my newspaper with the other five million, that is all. I am an + outsider.” His voice sounded curt; the warmth that admiration had brought + into it a moment before had frozen abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “An outsider!” Chilcote repeated. “What an enviable word!” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly, to those who are well inside the ring. But let us go back to + Lexington. What a pinnacle the man reached, and what a drop he had! It has + always seemed to me an extraordinary instance of the human leaven running + through us all. What was the real cause of his collapse?” he asked, + suddenly. “Was it drugs or drink? I have often wished to get at the + truth.” + </p> + <p> + Again Chilcote changed his attitude. + </p> + <p> + “Is truth ever worth getting at?” he asked, irrelevantly. + </p> + <p> + “In the case of a public man—yes. He exchanges his privacy for the + interest of the masses. If he gives the masses the details of his success, + why not the details of his failure? But was it drink that sucked him + under?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” Chilcote's response came after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “Drugs?” + </p> + <p> + Again Chilcote hesitated. And at the moment of his indecision a woman + brushed past him, laughing boisterously. The sound jarred him. + </p> + <p> + “Was it drugs?” the stranger went on easily. “I have always had a theory + that it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It was morphia.” The answer came before Chilcote had realized it. + The woman's laugh at the stranger's quiet persistence had contrived to + draw it from him. Instantly he had spoken he looked about him quickly, + like one who has for a moment forgotten a necessary vigilance. + </p> + <p> + There was silence while the stranger thought over the information just + given him. Then he spoke again, with a new touch of vehemence. + </p> + <p> + “So I imagined,” he said. “Though, on my soul, I never really credited it. + To have gained so much, and to have thrown it away for a common vice!” He + made an exclamation of disgust. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote gave an unsteady laugh. “You judge hardly.” he said. + </p> + <p> + The other repeated his sound of contempt. “Justly so. No man has the right + to squander what another would give his soul for. It lessens the general + respect for power.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a believer in power?” The tone was sarcastic, but the sarcasm + sounded thin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. All power is the outcome of individuality, either past or present. I + find no sentiment for the man who plays with it.” + </p> + <p> + The quiet contempt of the tone stung Chilcote. + </p> + <p> + “Do you imagine that Lexington made no fight?” he asked, impulsively. + “Can't you picture the man's struggle while the vice that had been slave + gradually became master?” He stopped to take breath, and in the cold pause + that followed it seemed to him that the other made a murmur of + incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you think of morphia as a pleasure?” he added. “Think of it, + instead, as a tyrant—that tortures the mind if held to, and the body + if cast off.” Urged by the darkness and the silence of his companion, the + rein of his speech had loosened. In that moment he was not Chilcote the + member for East Wark, whose moods and silences were proverbial, but + Chilcote the man whose mind craved the relief of speech. + </p> + <p> + “You talk as the world talks—out of ignorance and + self-righteousness,” he went on. “Before you condemn Lexington you should + put yourself in his place—” + </p> + <p> + “As you do?” the other laughed. + </p> + <p> + Unsuspecting and inoffensive as the laugh was, it startled Chilcote. With + a sudden alarm he pulled himself up. + </p> + <p> + “I—?” He tried to echo the laugh, but the attempt fell flat. “Oh, I + merely speak from—from De Quincey. But I believe this fog is + shifting—I really believe it is shifting. Can you oblige me with a + light? I had almost forgotten that a man may still smoke though he has + been deprived of sight.” He spoke fast and disjointedly. He was + overwhelmed by the idea that he had let himself go, and possessed by the + wish to obliterate the consequences. As he talked he fumbled; for his + cigarette-case. + </p> + <p> + His bead was bent as he searched for it nervously. Without looking up, he + was conscious that the cloud of fog that held him prisoner was lifting, + rolling away, closing back again, preparatory to final disappearance. + Having found the case, he put a cigarette between his lips and raised his + hand at the moment that the stranger drew a match across his box. + </p> + <p> + For a second each stared blankly at the other's face, suddenly made + visible by the lifting of the fog. The match in the stranger's hand burned + down till it scorched his fingers, and, feeling the pain, he laughed and + let it drop. + </p> + <p> + “Of all odd things!” he said. Then he broke off. The circumstance was too + novel for ordinary remark. + </p> + <p> + By one of those rare occurrences, those chances that seem too wild for + real life and yet belong to no other sphere, the two faces so strangely + hidden and strangely revealed were identical, feature for feature. It + seemed to each man that he looked not at the face of another, but at his + own face reflected in a flawless looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + Of the two, the stranger was the first to regain self-possession. Seeing + Chilcote's bewilderment, he came to his rescue with brusque tactfulness. + </p> + <p> + “The position is decidedly odd,” he said. “But after all, why should we be + so surprised? Nature can't be eternally original; she must dry up + sometimes, and when she gets a good model why shouldn't she use it twice?” + He drew back, surveying Chilcote whimsically. “But, pardon me, you are + still waiting for that light!” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote still held the cigarette between his lips. The paper had become + dry, and he moistened it as he leaned towards his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Don't mind me,” he said. “I'm rather—rather unstrung to-night, and + this thing gave me a jar. To be candid, my imagination took head in the + fog, and I got to fancy I was talking to myself—” + </p> + <p> + “And pulled up to find the fancy in some way real?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Something like that.” + </p> + <p> + Both were silent for a moment. Chilcote pulled hard at his cigarette, + then, remembering his obligations, he turned quickly to the other. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you smoke?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The stranger accepted a cigarette from the case held out to him; and as he + did so the extraordinary likeness to himself struck Chilcote with added + force. Involuntarily he put out his hand and touched the other's arm. + </p> + <p> + “It's my nerves!” he said, in explanation. “They make me want to feel that + you are substantial. Nerves play such beastly tricks!” He laughed + awkwardly. + </p> + <p> + The other glanced up. His expression on the moment was slightly surprised, + slightly contemptuous, but he changed it instantly to conventional + interest. “I am afraid I am not an authority on nerves,” he said. + </p> + <p> + But Chilcote was preoccupied. His thoughts had turned into another + channel. + </p> + <p> + “How old are you?” he asked, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + The other did not answer immediately. “My age?” he said at last, slowly. + “Oh, I believe I shall be thirty-six to-morrow—to be quite + accurate.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote lifted his head quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you use that tone?” he asked. “I am six months older than you, and + I only wish it was six years. Six years nearer oblivion—” + </p> + <p> + Again a slight incredulous contempt crossed the other's eyes. “Oblivion?” + he said. “Where are your ambitions?” + </p> + <p> + “They don't exist.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't exist? Yet you voice your country? I concluded that much in the + fog.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote laughed sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “When one has voiced one's country for six years one gets hoarse—it's + a natural consequence.” + </p> + <p> + The other smiled. “Ah, discontent!” he said. “The modern canker. But we + must both be getting under way. Good-night! Shall we shake hands—to + prove that we are genuinely material?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote had been standing unusually still, following the stranger's words—caught + by his self-reliance and impressed by his personality. Now, as he ceased + to speak, he moved quickly forward, impelled by a nervous curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Why should we just hail each other and pass—like the proverbial + ships?” he said, impulsively. “If Nature was careless enough to let the + reproduction meet the original, she must abide the consequences.” + </p> + <p> + The other laughed, but his laugh was short. “Oh, I don't know. Our roads + lie differently. You would get nothing out of me, and I—” He stopped + and again laughed shortly. “No,” he said; “I'd be content to pass, if I + were you. The unsuccessful man is seldom a profitable study. Shall we say + good-night?” + </p> + <p> + He took Chilcote's hand for an instant; then, crossing the footpath, he + passed into the road-way towards the Strand. + </p> + <p> + It was done in a moment; but with his going a sense of loss fell upon + Chilcote. He stood for a space, newly conscious of unfamiliar faces and + unfamiliar voices in the stream of passersby; then, suddenly mastered by + an impulse, he wheeled rapidly and darted after the tall, lean figure so + ridiculously like his own. + </p> + <p> + Half-way across Trafalgar Square he overtook the stranger. He had paused + on one of the small stone islands that break the current of traffic, and + was waiting for an opportunity to cross the street. In the glare of light + from the lamp above his head, Chilcote saw for the first time that, under + a remarkable neatness of appearance, his clothes were well worn—almost + shabby. The discovery struck him with something stronger than surprise. + The idea of poverty seemed incongruous is connection with the reliance, + the reserve, the personality of the man. With a certain embarrassed haste + he stepped forward and touched his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, as the other turned quietly. “I have followed you to + exchange cards. It can't injure either of us, and I—I have a wish to + know my other self.” He laughed nervously as he drew out his card-case. + </p> + <p> + The stranger watched him in silence. There was the same faint contempt, + but also there was a reluctant interest in his glance, as it passed from + the fingers fumbling with the case to the pale face with the square jaw, + straight mouth, and level eyebrows drawn low over the gray eyes. When at + last the card was held out to him he took it without remark and slipped it + into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote looked at him eagerly. “Now the exchange?” he said. + </p> + <p> + For a second the stranger did not respond. Then, almost unexpectedly, he + smiled. + </p> + <p> + “After all, if it amuses you—” he said; and, searching in his + waistcoat pocket, he drew out the required card. + </p> + <p> + “It will leave you quite unenlightened,” he added. “The name of a failure + never spells anything.” With another smile, partly amused, partly + ironical, he stepped from the little island and disappeared into the + throng of traffic. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote stood for an instant gazing at the point where he had vanished; + then, turning to the lamp, he lifted the card and read the name it bore: + “Mr. John Loder, 13 Clifford's Inn.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + On the morning following the night of fog Chilcote woke at nine. He woke + at the moment that his man Allsopp tiptoed across the room and laid the + salver with his early cup of tea on the table beside the bed. + </p> + <p> + For several seconds he lay with his eyes shut; the effort of opening them + on a fresh day—the intimate certainty of what he would see on + opening them—seemed to weight his lids. The heavy, half-closed + curtains; the blinds severely drawn; the great room with its splendid + furniture, its sober coloring, its scent of damp London winter; above all, + Allsopp, silent, respectful, and respectable—were things to dread. + </p> + <p> + A full minute passed while he still feigned sleep. He heard Allsopp stir + discreetly, then the inevitable information broke the silence: + </p> + <p> + “Nine o'clock, sir!” + </p> + <p> + He opened his eyes, murmured something, and closed them again. + </p> + <p> + The man moved to the window, quietly pulled back the curtains and half + drew the blind. + </p> + <p> + “Better night, sir, I hope?” he ventured, softly. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote had drawn the bedclothes over his face to screen himself from the + daylight, murky though it was. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he responded. “Those beastly nightmares didn't trouble me, for + once.” He shivered a little as at some recollection. “But don't talk—don't + remind me of them. I hate a man who has no originality.” He spoke sharply. + At times he showed an almost childish irritation over trivial things. + </p> + <p> + Allsopp took the remark in silence. Crossing the wide room, he began to + lay out his master's clothes. The action affected Chilcote to fresh + annoyance. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it!” he said. “I'm sick of that routine: I can see you laying + out my winding-sheet the day of my burial. Leave those things. Come back + in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Allsopp allowed himself one glance at his master's figure huddled in the + great bed; then, laying aside the coat he was holding, he moved to the + door. With his: fingers on the handle he paused. + </p> + <p> + “Will you breakfast in your own room, sir—or down-stairs?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote drew the clothes more tightly round his shoulders. “Oh, anywhere—nowhere!” + he said. “I don't care.” + </p> + <p> + Allsopp softly withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Left to himself, Chilcote sat up in bed and lifted the salver to his + knees. The sudden movement jarred him physically; he drew a handkerchief + from under the pillow and wiped his forehead; then he held his hand to the + light and studied it. The hand looked sallow and unsteady. With a nervous + gesture he thrust the salver back upon the table and slid out of bed. + </p> + <p> + Moving hastily across the room, he stopped before one of the tall + wardrobes and swung the door open; then after a furtive glance around the + room he thrust his hand into the recesses of a shelf and fumbled there. + </p> + <p> + The thing he sought was evidently not hard to find, for almost at once he + withdrew his hand and moved from the wardrobe to a table beside the + fireplace, carrying a small glass tube filled with tabloids. + </p> + <p> + On the table were a decanter, a siphon, and a water-jug. Mixing some + whiskey, he uncorked the tube, again he glanced apprehensively towards the + door, then with a very nervous hand dropped two tabloids into the glass. + </p> + <p> + While they dissolved he stood with his hand on the table and his eyes + fixed on the floor, evidently restraining his impatience. Instantly they + had disappeared he seized the glass and drained it at a draught, replaced + the bottle in the wardrobe, and, shivering slightly in the raw air, + slipped back into bed. + </p> + <p> + When Allsopp returned he was sitting up, a cigarette between his lips, the + teacup standing empty on the salver. The nervous irritability had gone + from his manner. He no longer moved jerkily, his eyes looked brighter, his + pale skin more healthy. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Allsopp,” he said, “there are some moments in life, after all. It + isn't all blank wall.” + </p> + <p> + “I ordered breakfast in the small morning-room, sir,” said Allsopp, + without a change of expression. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote breakfasted at ten. His appetite, always fickle, was particularly + uncertain in the early hours. He helped himself to some fish, but sent + away his plate untouched; then, having drunk two cups of tea, he pushed + back his chair, lighted a fresh cigarette, and shook out the morning's + newspaper. + </p> + <p> + Twice he shook it out and twice turned it, but the reluctance to fix his + mind upon it made him dally. + </p> + <p> + The effect of the morphia tabloids was still apparent in the greater + steadiness of his hand and eye, the regained quiet of his + susceptibilities, but the respite was temporary and lethargic. The early + days—the days of six years ago, when these tabloids meant an even + sweep of thought, lucidity of brain, a balance of judgment in thought and + effort—were days of the past. As he had said of Lexington and his + vice, the slave had become master. + </p> + <p> + As he folded the paper in a last attempt at interest, the door opened and + his secretary came a step or two into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, sir!” he said. “Forgive me for being so untimely.” + </p> + <p> + He was a fresh-mannered, bright-eyed boy of twenty-three. His breezy + alertness, his deference, as to a man who had attained what he aspired to, + amused and depressed Chilcote by turns. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, Blessington. What is it now?” He sighed through habit, and, + putting up his hand, warded off a ray of sun that had forced itself + through the misty atmosphere as if by mistake. + </p> + <p> + The boy smiled. “It's that business of the Wark timber contract, sir,” he + said. “You promised you'd look into it to-day; you know you've shelved it + for a week already, and Craig, Burnage are rather clamoring for an + answer.” He moved forward and laid the papers he was carrying on the table + beside Chilcote. “I'm sorry to be such a nuisance,” he added. “I hope your + nerves aren't worrying you to-day?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote was toying with the papers. At the word nerves he glanced up + suspiciously. But Blessington's ingenuous face satisfied him. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “I settled my nerves last night with—with a bromide. + I knew that fog would upset me unless I took precautions.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad of that, sir—though I'd avoid bromides. Bad habit to set + up. But this Wark business—I'd like to get it under way, if you have + no objection.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote passed his fingers over the papers. “Were you out in that fog + last night, Blessington?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I supped with some people at the Savoy, and we just missed it. + It was very partial, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “So I believe.” + </p> + <p> + Blessington put his hand to his neat tie and pulled it. He was extremely + polite, but he had an inordinate sense of duty. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, sir,” he said, “but about that contract—I know I'm a + frightful bore.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the contract!” Chilcote looked about him absently. “By-the-way, did + you see anything of my wife yesterday? What did she do last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Chilcote gave me tea yesterday afternoon. She told me she was dining + at Lady Sabinet's, and looking in at one or two places later.” He eyed his + papers in Chilcote's listless hand. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote smiled satirically. “Eve is very true to society,” he said. “I + couldn't dine at the Sabinets' if it was to make me premier. They have a + butler who is an institution—a sort of heirloom in the family. He is + fat, and breathes audibly. Last time I lunched there he haunted me for a + whole night.” + </p> + <p> + Blessington laughed gayly. “Mrs. Chilcote doesn't see ghosts, sir,” he + said; “but if I may suggest—” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote tapped his fingers on the table. + </p> + <p> + “No. Eve doesn't see ghosts. We rather miss sympathy there.” + </p> + <p> + Blessington governed his impatience. He stood still for some seconds, then + glanced down at his pointed boot. + </p> + <p> + “If you will be lenient to my persistency, sir, I would like to remind you—” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote lifted his head with a flash of irritability. + </p> + <p> + “Confound it, Blessington!” he exclaimed. “Am I never to be left in peace? + Am I never to sit down to a meal without having work thrust upon me? Work—work—perpetually + work? I have heard no other word in the last six years. I declare there + are times”—he rose suddenly from his seat and turned to the window—“there + are times when I feel that for sixpence I'd chuck it all—the whole + beastly round—” + </p> + <p> + Startled by his vehemence, Blessington wheeled towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Not your political career, sir?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment in which Chilcote hesitated, a moment in which the + desire that had filled his mind for months rose to his lips and hung + there; then the question, the incredulity in Blessington's face, chilled + it and it fell back into silence. + </p> + <p> + “I—I didn't say that,” he murmured. “You young men jump to + conclusions, Blessington.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, sir. I never meant to imply retirement. Why, Rickshaw, Vale, + Cressham, and the whole Wark crowd would be about your ears like flies if + such a thing were even breathed—now more than ever, since these + Persian rumors. By-the-way, is there anything real in this border + business? The 'St. George's' came out rather strong last night.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote had moved back to the table. His face was pale from his outburst + and his fingers toyed restlessly with the open newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't seen the 'St. George's',” he said, hastily. “Lakely is always + ready to shake the red rag where Russia is concerned; whether we are to + enter the arena is another matter. But what about Craig, Burnage? I think + you mentioned something of a contract.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't worry about that, sir.” Blessington had caught the twitching at + the corners of Chilcote's mouth, the nervous sharpness of his voice. “I + can put Craig, Burnage off. If they have an answer by Thursday it will be + time enough.” He began to collect his papers, but Chilcote stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” he said, veering suddenly. “Wait. I'll see to it now. I'll feel + more myself when I've done something. I'll come with you to the study.” + </p> + <p> + He walked hastily across the room; then, with his hand on the door, he + paused. + </p> + <p> + “You go first, Blessington,” he said. “I'll—I'll follow you in ten + minutes. I must glance through the newspapers first.” + </p> + <p> + Blessington looked uncertain. “You won't forget, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Forget? Of course not.” + </p> + <p> + Still doubtfully, Blessington left the room and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + Once alone, Chilcote walked slowly back to the table, drew up his chair, + and sat down with his eyes on the white cloth, the paper lying unheeded + beside him. + </p> + <p> + Time passed. A servant came into the room to remove the breakfast. + Chilcote moved slightly when necessary, but otherwise retained his + attitude. The servant, having finished his task, replenished the fire and + left the room. Chilcote still sat on. + </p> + <p> + At last, feeling numbed, he rose and crossed to the fireplace. The clock + on the mantel-piece stared him in the face. He looked at it, started + slightly, then drew out his watch. Watch and clock corresponded. Each + marked twelve o'clock. With a nervous motion he leaned forward and pressed + the electric bell long and hard. + </p> + <p> + Instantly a servant answered. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Blessington in the study?” Chilcote asked. + </p> + <p> + “He was there, sir, five minutes back.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote looked relieved. + </p> + <p> + “All right! Tell him I have gone out—had to go out. Something + important. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand, sir.” + </p> + <p> + But before the words had been properly spoken Chilcote had passed the man + and walked into the hall. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Leaving his house, Chilcote walked forward quickly and aimlessly. With the + sting of the outer air the recollection of last night's adventure came + back upon him. Since the hour of his waking it had hung about with vague + persistence, but now in the clear light of day it seemed to stand out with + a fuller peculiarity. + </p> + <p> + The thing was preposterous, nevertheless it was genuine. He was wearing + the overcoat he had worn, the night before, and, acting on impulse, he + thrust his hand into the pocket and drew out the stranger's card. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. John Loder!” He read the name over as he walked along, and it + mechanically repeated itself in his brain—falling into measure with + his steps. Who was John Loder? What was he? The questions tantalized him + till his pace unconsciously increased. The thought that two men so + absurdly alike could inhabit the same, city and remain unknown to each + other faced him as a problem: it tangled with his personal worries and + aggravated them. There seemed to be almost a danger in such an + extraordinary likeness. He began to regret his impetuosity in thrusting + his card upon the man. Then, again, how he had let himself go on the + subject of Lexington! How narrowly he had escaped compromise! He turned + hot and cold at the recollection of what he had said and what he might + have said. Then for the first time he paused in his walk and looked about + him. + </p> + <p> + On leaving Grosvenor Square he had turned westward, moving rapidly till + the Marble Arch was reached; there, still oblivious to his surroundings, + he had crossed the roadway to the Edgware Road, passing along it to the + labyrinth of shabby streets that lie behind Paddington. Now, as he glanced + about him, he saw with some surprise how far he had come. + </p> + <p> + The damp remnants of the fog still hung about the house-tops in a filmy + veil; there were no glimpses of green to break the monotony of tone; all + was quiet, dingy, neglected. But to Chilcote the shabbiness was restful, + the subdued atmosphere a satisfaction. Among these sad houses, these + passers-by, each filled with his own concerns, he experienced a sense of + respite and relief. In the fashionable streets that bounded his own + horizon, if a man paused in his walk to work out an idea he instantly drew + a crowd of inquisitive or contemptuous eyes; here, if a man halted for + half an hour it was nobody's business but his own. + </p> + <p> + Enjoying this thought, he wandered on for close upon an hour, moving from + one street to another with steps that were listless or rapid, as + inclination prompted; then, still acting with vagrant aimlessness, he + stopped in his wanderings and entered a small eating-house. + </p> + <p> + The place was low-ceiled and dirty, the air hot and steaming with the + smell of food, but Chilcote passed through the door and moved to one of + the tables with no expression of disgust, and with far less furtive + watchfulness than he used in his own house. By a curious mental twist he + felt greater freedom, larger opportunities in drab surroundings such as + these than in the broad issues and weighty responsibilities of his own + life. Choosing a corner seat, he called for coffee; and there, protected + by shadow and wrapped in cigarette smoke, he set about imagining himself + some vagrant unit who had slipped his moorings and was blissfully adrift. + </p> + <p> + The imagination was pleasant while it lasted, but with him nothing was + permanent. Of late the greater part of his sufferings had been comprised + in the irritable fickleness of all his aims—the distaste for and + impossibility of sustained effort in any direction. He had barely lighted + a second cigarette when the old restlessness fell upon him; he stirred + nervously in his seat, and the cigarette was scarcely burned out when he + rose, paid his small bill, and left the shop. + </p> + <p> + Outside on the pavement he halted, pulled out his watch, and saw that two + hours stretched in front before any appointment claimed his attention. He + wondered vaguely where he might go to—what he might do in those two + hours? In the last few minutes a distaste for solitude had risen in his + mind, giving the close street a loneliness that had escaped him before. + </p> + <p> + As he stood wavering a cab passed slowly down the street. The sight of a + well-dressed man roused the cabman; flicking his whip, he passed Chilcote + close, feigning to pull up. + </p> + <p> + The cab suggested civilization. Chilcote's mind veered suddenly and he + raised his hand. The vehicle stopped and he climbed in. + </p> + <p> + “Where, sir?” The cabman peered down through the roof-door. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote raised his head. “Oh, anywhere near Pall Mall,” he said. Then, as + the horse started forward, he put up his hand and shook the trap-door. + “Wait!” he called. “I've changed my mind. Drive to Cadogan Gardens—No. + 33.” + </p> + <p> + The distance to Cadogan Gardens was covered quickly. Chilcote had hardly + realized that his destination was reached when the cab pulled up. Jumping + out, he paid the fare and walked quickly to the hall-door of No. 33. + </p> + <p> + “Is Lady Astrupp at home?” he asked, sharply, as the door swung back in + answer to his knock. + </p> + <p> + The servant drew back deferentially. “Her ladyship has almost finished + lunch, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + For answer Chilcote stepped through the door-way and walked half-way + across the hall. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said. “But don't disturb her on my account. I'll wait in + the white room till she has finished.” And, without taking further notice + of the servant, he began to mount the stairs. + </p> + <p> + In the room where he had chosen to wait a pleasant wood-fire brightened + the dull January afternoon and softened the thick, white curtains, the + gilt furniture, and the Venetian vases filled with white roses. Moving + straight forward, Chilcote paused by the grate and stretched his hands to + the blaze; then, with his usual instability, he turned and passed to a + couch that stood a yard or two away. + </p> + <p> + On the couch, tucked away between a novel and a crystal gazing-ball, was a + white Persian kitten, fast asleep. Chilcote picked up the ball and held it + between his eyes and the fire; then he laughed superciliously, tossed it + back into its place, and caught the kitten's tail. The little animal + stirred, stretched itself, and began to purr. At the same moment the door + of the room opened. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote turned round. “I particularly said you were not to be disturbed,” + he began. “Have I merited displeasure?” He spoke fast, with the uneasy + tone that so often underran his words. + </p> + <p> + Lady Astrupp took his hand with a confiding gesture and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Never displeasure,” she said, lingeringly, and again she smiled. The + smile might have struck a close observer as faintly, artificial. But what + man in Chilcote's frame of mind has time to be observant where women are + concerned? The manner of the smile was very sweet and almost caressing—and + that sufficed. + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing?” she asked, after a moment. “I thought I was + quite forgotten.” She moved across to the couch, picked up the kitten, and + kissed it. “Isn't this sweet?” she added. + </p> + <p> + She looked very graceful as she turned, holding the little animal up. She + was a woman of twenty-seven, but she looked a girl. The outline of her + face was pure, the pale gold of her hair almost ethereal, and her tall, + slight figure still suggested the suppleness, the possibility of future + development, that belongs to youth. She wore a lace-colored gown that + harmonized with the room and with the delicacy of her skin. + </p> + <p> + “Now sit down and rest—or walk about the room. I sha'n't mind + which.” She nestled into the couch and picked up the crystal ball. + </p> + <p> + “What is the toy for?” Chilcote looked at her from the mantel-piece, + against which he was resting. He had never defined the precise attraction + that Lillian Astrupp held for him. Her shallowness soothed him; her + inconsequent egotism helped him to forget himself. She never asked him how + he was, she never expected impossibilities. She let him come and go and + act as he pleased, never demanding reasons. Like the kitten, she was + charming and graceful and easily amused; it was possible that, also like + the kitten, she could scratch and be spiteful on occasion, but that did + not weigh with him. He sometimes expressed a vague envy of the late Lord + Astrupp; but, even had circumstances permitted, it is doubtful whether he + would have chosen to be his successor. Lillian as a friend was delightful, + but Lillian as a wife would have been a different consideration. + </p> + <p> + “What is the toy for?” he asked again. + </p> + <p> + She looked up slowly. “How cruel of you, Jack! It is my very latest + hobby.” + </p> + <p> + It was part of her attraction that she was never without a craze. Each new + one was as fleeting as the last, but to each she brought the same + delightfully insincere enthusiasm, the same picturesque devotion. Each was + a pose, but she posed so sweetly that nobody lost patience. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't laugh!” she protested, letting the kitten slip to the ground. + “I've had lessons at five guineas each from the most fascinating person—a + professional; and I'm becoming quite an adept. Of course I haven't been + much beyond the milky appearance yet, but the milky appearance is + everything, you know; the rest will come. I am trying to persuade Blanche + to let me have a pavilion at her party in March, and gaze for all you dull + political people.” Again she smiled. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote smiled as well. “How is it done?” he asked, momentarily amused. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the doing is quite delicious. You sit at a table with the ball in + front of you; then you take the subject's hands, spread them out on the + table, and stroke them very softly while you gaze into the crystal; that + gets up the sympathy, you know.” She looked up innocently. “Shall I show + you?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote moved a small table nearer to the couch and spread his hands upon + it, palms downward. “Like this, eh?” he said. Then a ridiculous + nervousness seized him and he moved away. “Some other day,” he said, + quickly. “You can show me some other day. I'm not very fit this + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + If Lillian felt any disappointment, she showed none. “Poor old thing!” she + said, softly. “Try to sit here by me and we won't bother about anything.” + She made a place for him beside her, and as he dropped into it she took + his hand and patted it sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + The touch was soothing, and he bore it patiently enough. After a moment + she lifted the hand with a little exclamation of reproof. + </p> + <p> + “You degenerate person! You have ceased to manicure. What has become of my + excellent training?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote laughed. “Run to seed,” he said, lightly. Then his expression and + tone changed. “When a man gets to my age,” he added, “little social + luxuries don't seem worth while; the social necessities are irksome + enough. Personally, I envy the beggar in the street—exempt from + shaving, exempt from washing—” + </p> + <p> + Lillian raised her delicate eyebrows. The sentiment was beyond her + perception. + </p> + <p> + “But manicuring,” she said, reproachfully, “when you have such nice hands. + It was your hands and your eyes, you know, that first appealed to me.” She + sighed gently, with a touch of sentimental remembrance. “And I thought it + so strong of you not to wear rings—it must be such a temptation.” + She looked down at her own fingers, glittering with jewels. + </p> + <p> + But the momentary pleasure of her touch was gone. Chilcote drew away his + hand and picked up the book that lay between them. + </p> + <p> + “Other Men's Shoes!” he read. “A novel, of course?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled. “Of course. Such a fantastic story. Two men changing + identities.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote rose and walked back to the mantel-piece. + </p> + <p> + “Changing identities?” he said, with a touch of interest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. One man is an artist, the other a millionaire; one wants to know + what fame is like, the other wants to know how it feels to be really + sinfully rich. So they exchange experiences for a month.” She laughed. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote laughed as well. “But how?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I told you the idea was absurd. Fancy two people so much alike that + neither their friends nor their servants see any difference! Such a thing + couldn't be, could it?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote looked down at the fire. “No,” he said, doubtfully. “No. I + suppose not.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. There are likenesses, but not freak likenesses like that.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote's head was bent as she spoke, but at the last words he lifted it. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! I don't know about that!” he said. “Not so very long ago I saw + two men so much alike that I—I—” He stopped. + </p> + <p> + Lillian smiled. + </p> + <p> + He colored quickly. “You doubt me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Jack!” Her voice was delicately reproachful. + </p> + <p> + “Then you think that my—my imagination has been playing me tricks?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy! Nothing of the kind. Come back to your place and tell me the + whole tale?” She smiled again, and patted the couch invitingly. + </p> + <p> + But Chilcote's balance had been upset. For the first time he saw Lillian + as one of the watchful, suspecting crowd before which he was constantly on + guard. Acting on the sensation, he moved suddenly towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “I—I have an appointment at the House,” he said, quickly. “I'll look + in another day when—when I'm better company. I know I'm a bear + to-day. My nerves, you know.” He came back to the couch and took her hand; + then he touched her cheek for an instant with his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” he said. “Take care of yourself—and the kitten,” he + added, with forced gayety, as he crossed the room. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon Chilcote's nervous condition reached its height. All day he + had avoided the climax, but no evasion can be eternal, and this he + realized as he sat in his place on the Opposition benches during the + half-hour of wintry twilight that precedes the turning-on of the lights. + He realized it in that half-hour, but the application of the knowledge + followed later, when the time came for him to question the government on + some point relating to a proposed additional dry-dock at Talkley, the + naval base. Then for the first time he knew that the sufferings of the + past months could have a visible as well as a hidden side—could + disorganize his daily routine as they had already demoralized his will and + character. + </p> + <p> + The thing came upon him with extraordinary lack of preparation. He sat + through the twilight with tolerable calm, his nervousness showing only in + the occasional lifting of his hand to his collar and the frequent changing + of his position; but when the lights were turned on, and he leaned back in + his seat with closed eyes, he became conscious of a curious impression—a + disturbing idea that through his closed lids he could see the faces on the + opposite side of the House, see the rows of eyes, sleepy, interested, or + vigilant. Never before had the sensation presented itself, but, once set + up, it ran through all his susceptibilities. By an absurd freak of fancy + those varying eyes seemed to pierce through his lids, almost through his + eyeballs. The cold perspiration that was his daily horror broke out on his + forehead; and at the same moment Fraide, his leader, turned, leaned over + the back of his seat, and touched his knee. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote started and opened his eyes. “I—I believe I was dozing,” he + said, confusedly. + </p> + <p> + Fraide smiled his dry, kindly smile. “A fatal admission for a member of + the Opposition,” he said. “But I was looking for you earlier in the day, + Chilcote. There is something behind this Persian affair. I believe it to + be a mere first move on Russia's part. You big trading people will find it + worth watching.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, I don't know,” he said. “I scarcely + believe in it. Lakely put a match to the powder in the 'St. George's', but + 'twill only be a noise and a puff of smoke.” + </p> + <p> + But Fraide did not smile. “What is the feeling down at Wark?” he asked. + “Has it awakened any interest?” + </p> + <p> + “At Wark? Oh, I—I don't quite know. I have been a little out of + touch with Wark in the last few weeks. A man has so many private affairs + to look to—” He was uneasy under his chief's scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + Fraide's lips parted as if to make reply, but with a certain dignified + reticence he closed them again and turned away. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote leaned back in his place and furtively passed his hand over his + forehead. His mind was possessed by one consideration—the + consideration of himself. He glanced down the crowded, lighted House to + the big glass doors; he glanced about him at his colleagues, indifferent + or interested; then surreptitiously his fingers strayed to his + waistcoat-pocket. + </p> + <p> + Usually he carried his morphia tabloids with him, but to-day by a lapse of + memory he had left them at home. He knew this, nevertheless he continued + to search, while the need of the drug rushed through him with a sense of + physical sickness. He lost hold on the business of the House; + unconsciously he half rose from his seat. + </p> + <p> + The man next him looked up. “Hold your ground, Chilcote,” he said. + “Rayforth is drying up.” + </p> + <p> + With a wave of relief Chilcote dropped back into his place. Whatever the + confusion in his mind, it was evidently not obvious in his face. + </p> + <p> + Rayforth resumed his seat, there was the usual slight stir and pause, then + Salett, the member for Salchester, rose. + </p> + <p> + With Salett's first words Chilcote's hand again sought his pocket, and + again his eyes strayed towards the doors, but Fraide's erect head and + stiff back just in front of him held him quiet. With an effort he pulled + out his notes and smoothed them nervously; but though his gaze was fixed + on the pages, not a line of Blessington's clear writing reached his mind. + He glanced at the face of the Speaker, then at the faces on the Treasury + Bench, then once more he leaned back in his seat. + </p> + <p> + The man beside him saw the movement. “Funking the drydock?” he whispered, + jestingly. + </p> + <p> + “No”—Chilcote turned to him suddenly—“but I feel beastly—have + felt beastly for weeks.” + </p> + <p> + The other looked at him more closely. “Anything wrong?” he asked. It was a + novel experience to be confided in by Chilcote. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's the grind-the infernal grind.” As he said it, it seemed to him + suddenly that his strength gave way. He forgot his companion, his + position, everything except the urgent instinct that filled mind and body. + Scarcely knowing what he did, he rose and leaned forward to whisper in + Fraide's ear. + </p> + <p> + Fraide was seen to turn, his thin face interested and concerned, then he + was seen to nod once or twice in acquiescence, and a moment later Chilcote + stepped quietly out of his place. + </p> + <p> + One or two men spoke to him as he hurried from the House, but he shook + them off almost uncivilly, and, making for the nearest exit, hailed a cab. + </p> + <p> + The drive to Grosvenor Square was a misery. Time after time he changed + from one corner of the cab to the other, his acute internal pains + prolonged by every delay and increased by every motion. At last, weak in + all his limbs, he stepped from the vehicle at his own door. + </p> + <p> + Entering the house, he instantly mounted the stairs and passed to his own + rooms. Opening the bedroom door, he peered in cautiously, then pushed the + door wide. The light had been switched on, but the room was empty. With a + nervous excitement scarcely to be kept in check, he entered, shut and + locked the door, then moved to the wardrobe, and, opening it, drew the + tube of tabloids from the shelf. + </p> + <p> + His hand shook violently as he carried the tube to the table. The strain + of the day, the anxiety of the past hours, with their final failure, had + found sudden expression. Mixing a larger dose than any he had before + allowed himself, he swallowed it hastily, and, walking across the room, + threw himself, fully dressed, upon the bed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + To those whose sphere lies in the west of London, Fleet Street is little + more than a name, and Clifford's Inn a mere dead letter. Yet Clifford's + Inn lies as safely stowed away in the shadow of the Law Courts as any + grave under a country church wall; it is as green of grass, as gray of + stone, as irresponsive to the passing footstep. + </p> + <p> + Facing the railed-in grass-plot of its little court stood the house in + which John Loder had his rooms. Taken at a first glance, the house had the + deserted air of an office, inhabited only in the early hours; but, as + night fell, lights would be seen to show out, first on one floor, then on + another—faint, human beacons unconsciously signalling each other. + The rooms Loder inhabited were on the highest floor; and from their + windows one might gaze philosophically on the tree-tops, forgetting the + uneven pavement and the worn railing that hemmed them round. In the + landing outside the rooms his name appeared above his door, but the paint + had been soiled by time, and the letters for the most part reduced to + shadows; so that, taken in conjunction with the gaunt staircase and bare + walls, the place had a cheerless look. + </p> + <p> + Inside, however, the effect was somewhat mitigated. The room on the right + hand, as one entered the small passage that served as hall, was of fair + size, though low-ceiled. The paint of the wall-panelling, like the name + above the outer door, had long ago been worn to a dirty and nondescript + hue, and the floor was innocent of carpet; yet in the middle of the room + stood a fine old Cromwell table, and on the plain deal book-shelves and + along the mantel-piece were some valuable books—political and + historical. There were no curtains on the windows, and a common + reading-lamp with a green shade stood on a desk. It was the room of a man + with few hobbies and no pleasures—who existed because he was alive, + and worked because he must. + </p> + <p> + Three nights after the great fog John Loder sat by his desk in the light + of the green-shaded lamp. The remains of a very frugal supper stood on the + centre-table, and in the grate a small and economical-looking fire was + burning. + </p> + <p> + Having written for close on two hours, he pushed back his chair and + stretched his cramped fingers; then he yawned, rose, and slowly walked + across the room. Reaching the mantel-piece, he took a pipe from the + pipe-rack and some tobacco from the jar that stood behind the books. His + face looked tired and a little worn, as is common with men who have worked + long at an uncongenial task. Shredding the tobacco between his hands, he + slowly filled the pipe, then lighted it from the fire with a spill of + twisted paper. + </p> + <p> + Almost at the moment that he applied the light the sound of steps mounting + the uncarpeted stairs outside caught his attention, and he raised his head + to listen. + </p> + <p> + Presently the steps halted and he heard a match struck. The stranger was + evidently uncertain of his whereabouts. Then the steps moved forward again + and paused. + </p> + <p> + An expression of surprise crossed Loder's face, and he laid down his pipe. + As the visitor knocked, he walked quietly across the room and opened the + door. + </p> + <p> + The passage outside was dark, and the new-comer drew back before the light + from the room. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Loder—?” he began, interrogatively. Then all at once he laughed + in embarrassed apology. “Forgive me,” he said. “The light rather dazzled + me. I didn't realize who it was.” + </p> + <p> + Loder recognized the voice as belonging to his acquaintance of the fog. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's you!” he said. “Won't you come in?” His voice was a little cold. + This sudden resurrection left him surprised—and not quite pleasantly + surprised. He walked back to the fireplace, followed by his guest. + </p> + <p> + The guest seemed nervous and agitated. “I must apologize for the hour of + my visit,” he said. “My—my time is not quite my own.” + </p> + <p> + Loder waved his hand. “Whose time is his own?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote, encouraged by the remark, drew nearer to the fire. Until this + moment he had refrained from looking directly at his host; now, however, + he raised his eyes, and, despite his preparation, he recoiled unavoidably + before the extraordinary resemblance. Seen here, in the casual + surroundings of a badly furnished and crudely lighted room, it was even + more astounding than it had been in the mystery of the fog. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” he said again. “It is physical—purely physical. I am + bowled over against my will.” + </p> + <p> + Loder smiled. The slight contempt that Chilcote had first inspired rose + again, and with it a second feeling less easily defined. The man seemed so + unstable, so incapable, yet so grotesquely suggestive to himself. + </p> + <p> + “The likeness is rather overwhelming,” he said; “but not heavy enough to + sink under. Come nearer the fire. What brought you here? Curiosity?” There + was a wooden arm-chair by the fireplace. He indicated it with a wave of + the hand; then turned and took up his smouldering pipe. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote, watching him furtively, obeyed the gesture and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “It is extraordinary!” he said, as if unable to dismiss the subject. “It—it + is quite extraordinary!” + </p> + <p> + The other glanced round. “Let's drop it,” he said. “It's so confoundedly + obvious.” Then his tone changed. “Won't you smoke?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” Chilcote began to fumble for his cigarettes. + </p> + <p> + But his host forestalled him. Taking a box from the mantel-piece, he held + it out. + </p> + <p> + “My one extravagance!” he said, ironically. “My resources bind me to one; + and I think I have made a wise selection. It is about the only vice we + haven't to pay for six times over.” He glanced sharply at the face so + absurdly like his own, then, lighting a fresh spill, offered his guest a + light. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote moistened his cigarette and leaned forward. In the flare of the + paper his face looked set and anxious, but Loder saw that the lips did not + twitch as they had done on the previous occasion that he had given him a + light, and a look of comprehension crossed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What will you drink? Or, rather, will you have a whiskey? I keep nothing + else. Hospitality is one of the debarred luxuries.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote shook his head. “I seldom drink. But don't let that deter you.” + </p> + <p> + Loder smiled. “I have one drink in the twenty-four hours—generally + at two o'clock, when my night's work is done. A solitary man has to look + where he is going.” + </p> + <p> + “You work till two?” + </p> + <p> + “Two—or three.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote's eyes wandered to the desk. “You write?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The other nodded curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Books?” Chilcote's tone was anxious. + </p> + <p> + Loder laughed, and the bitter note showed in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “No—not books,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote leaned back in his chair and passed his hand across his face. The + strong wave of satisfaction that the words woke in him was difficult to + conceal. + </p> + <p> + “What is your work?” + </p> + <p> + Loder turned aside. “You must not ask that,” he said, shortly. “When a man + has only one capacity, and the capacity has no outlet, he is apt to run to + seed in a wrong direction. I cultivate weeds—at abominable labor and + a very small reward.” He stood with his back to the fire, facing his + visitor; his attitude was a curious blending of pride, defiance, and + despondency. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote leaned forward again. “Why speak of yourself like that? You are a + man of intelligence and education.” He spoke questioningly, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Intelligence and education!” Loder laughed shortly. “London is cemented + with intelligence. And education! What is education? The court dress + necessary to presentation, the wig and gown necessary to the barrister. + But do the wig and gown necessarily mean briefs? Or the court dress royal + favor? Education is the accessory; it is influence that is essential. You + should know that.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote moved restlessly in his seat. “You talk bitterly,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The other looked up. “I think bitterly, which is worse. I am one of the + unlucky beggars who, in the expectation of money, has been denied a + profession—even a trade, to which to cling in time of shipwreck; and + who, when disaster comes, drift out to sea. I warned you the other night + to steer clear of me. I come under the head of flotsam!” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote's face lighted. “You came a cropper?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. It was some one else who came the cropper—I only dealt in + results.” + </p> + <p> + “Big results?” + </p> + <p> + “A drop from a probable eighty thousand pounds to a certain eight + hundred.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote glanced up. “How did you take it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I? Oh, I was twenty-five then. I had a good many hopes and a lot of + pride; but there is no place for either in a working world.” + </p> + <p> + “But your people?” + </p> + <p> + “My last relation died with the fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “Your friends?” + </p> + <p> + Loder laid down his pipe. “I told you I was twenty-five,” he said, with + the tinge of humor that sometimes crossed his manner. “Doesn't that + explain things? I had never taken favors in prosperity; a change of + fortune was not likely to alter my ways. As I have said, I was + twenty-five.” He smiled. “When I realized my position I sold all my + belongings with the exception of a table and a few books—which I + stored. I put on a walking-suit and let my beard grow; then, with my + entire capital in my pocket, I left England without saying good-bye to any + one.” + </p> + <p> + “For how long?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, for six years. I wandered half over Europe and through a good part of + Asia in the time.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then? Oh, I shaved off the beard and came back to London!” He looked at + Chilcote, partly contemptuous, partly amused at his curiosity. + </p> + <p> + But Chilcote sat staring in silence. The domination of the other's + personality and the futility of his achievements baffled him. + </p> + <p> + Loder saw his bewilderment. “You wonder what the devil I came into the + world for,” he said. “I sometimes wonder the same myself.” + </p> + <p> + At his words a change passed over Chilcote. He half rose, then dropped + back into his seat. + </p> + <p> + “You have no friends?” he said. “Your life is worth nothing to you?” + </p> + <p> + Loder raised his head. “I thought I had conveyed that impression.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an absolutely free man.” + </p> + <p> + “No man is free who works for his bread. If things had been different I + might have been in such shoes as yours, sauntering in legislative byways; + my hopes turned that way once. But hopes, like more substantial things, + belong to the past—” He stopped abruptly and looked at his + companion. + </p> + <p> + The change in Chilcote had become more acute; he sat fingering his + cigarette, his brows drawn down, his lips set nervously in a conflict of + emotions. For a space he stayed very still, avoiding Loder's eyes; then, + as if decision had suddenly come to him, he turned and met his gaze. + </p> + <p> + “How if there was a future,” he said, “as well as a past?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + For the space of a minute there was silence in the room, then outside in + the still night three clocks simultaneously chimed eleven, and their + announcement was taken up and echoed by half a dozen others, loud and + faint, hoarse and resonant; for all through the hours of darkness the + neighborhood of Fleet Street is alive with chimes. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote, startled by the jangle, rose from his seat; then, as if driven + by an uncontrollable impulse, he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “You probably think I am mad—” he began. + </p> + <p> + Loder took his pipe out of his mouth. “I am not so presumptuous,” he said, + quietly. + </p> + <p> + For a space the other eyed him silently, as if trying to gauge his + thoughts; then once more he broke into speech. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said. “I came to-night to make a proposition. When I have + made it you'll first of all jeer at it—as I jeered when I made it to + myself; then you'll see its possibilities—as I did; then,”—he + paused and glanced round the room nervously—“then you'll accept it—as + I did.” In the uneasy haste of his speech his words broke off almost + unintelligibly. + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily Loder lifted his head to retort, but Chilcote put up his + hand. His face was set with the obstinate determination that weak men + sometime exhibit. + </p> + <p> + “Before I begin I want to say that I am not drunk—that I am neither + mad nor drunk.” He looked fully at his companion with his restless glance. + “I am quite sane—quite reasonable.” + </p> + <p> + Again Loder essayed to speak, but again he put up his hand. + </p> + <p> + “No. Hear me out. You told me something of your story. I'll tell you + something of mine. You'll be the first person, man or woman, that I have + confided in for ten years. You say you have been treated shabbily. I have + treated myself shabbily—which is harder to reconcile. I had every + chance—and I chucked every chance away.” + </p> + <p> + There was a strained pause, then again Loder lifted his head. + </p> + <p> + “Morphia?” he said, very quietly. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote wheeled round with a scared gesture. “How did you know that?” he + asked, sharply. + </p> + <p> + The other smiled. “It wasn't guessing—it wasn't even deduction. You + told me, or as good as told me, in the fog—when we talked of + Lexington. You were unstrung that night, and I—Well, perhaps one + gets over-observant from living alone.” He smiled again. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote collapsed into his former seat and passed his handkerchief across + his forehead. + </p> + <p> + Loder watched him for a space; then he spoke. “Why don't you pull up?” he + said. “You are a young man still. Why don't you drop the thing before it + gets too late?” His face was unsympathetic, and below the question in his + voice lay a note of hard ness. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote returned his glance. The suggestion of reproof had accentuated + his pallor. Under his excitement he looked ill and worn. + </p> + <p> + “You might talk till doomsday, but every word would be wasted,” he said, + irritably. “I'm past praying for, by something like six years.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why come here?” Loder was pulling hard on his pipe. “I'm not a + dealer in sympathy.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't require sympathy.” Chilcote rose again. He was still agitated, + but the agitation was quieter. “I want a much more expensive thing than + sympathy—and I am willing to pay for it.” + </p> + <p> + The other turned and looked at him. “I have no possession in the world + that would be worth a fiver to you,” he said, coldly. “You're either under + a delusion or you're wasting my time.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote laughed nervously. “Wait,” he said. “Wait. I only ask you to + wait. First let me sketch you my position—it won't take many words: + </p> + <p> + “My grandfather was a Chilcote of Westmoreland; he was one of the first of + his day and his class to recognize that there was a future in trade, so, + breaking his own little twig from the family tree, he went south to Wark + and entered a ship-owning firm. In thirty years' time he died, the owner + of one of the biggest trades in England, having married the daughter of + his chief. My father was twenty-four and still at Oxford when he + inherited. Almost his first act was to reverse my grandfather's early move + by going north and piecing together the family friendship. He married his + first cousin; and then, with the Chilcote prestige revived and the + shipping money to back it, he entered on his ambition, which was to + represent East Wark in the Conservative interest. It was a big fight, but + he won—as much by personal influence as by any other. He was an + aristocrat, but he was a keen business-man as well. The combination + carries weight with your lower classes. He never did much in the House, + but he was a power to his party in Wark. They still use his name there to + conjure with.” + </p> + <p> + Loder leaned forward interestedly. + </p> + <p> + “Robert Chilcote?” he said. “I have heard of him. One of those fine, + unostentatious figures—strong in action, a little narrow in outlook, + perhaps, but essential to a country's staying power. You have every reason + to be proud of your father.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote laughed suddenly. “How easily we sum up, when a matter is + impersonal! My father may have been a fine figure, but he shouldn't have + left me to climb to his pedestal.” + </p> + <p> + Loder's eyes questioned. In his newly awakened interest he had let his + pipe go out. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you grasp my meaning?” Chilcote went on. “My father died and I was + elected for East Wark. You may say that if I had no real inclination for + the position I could have kicked. But I tell you I couldn't. Every local + interest, political and commercial, hung upon the candidate being a + Chilcote. I did what eight men out of ten would have done. I yielded to + pressure.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a fine opening!” The words escaped Loder. + </p> + <p> + “Most prisons have wide gates!” Chilcote laughed again unpleasantly. “That + was six years ago. I had started on the morphia tack four years earlier, + but up to my father's death I had it under my thumb—or believed I + had; and in the realization of my new responsibilities and the excitement + of the political fight I almost put it aside. For several months after I + entered Parliament I worked. I believe I made one speech that marked me as + a coming man.” He laughed derisively. “I even married—” + </p> + <p> + “Married?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. A girl of nineteen—the ward of a great statesman. It was a + brilliant marriage—politically as well as socially. But it didn't + work. I was born without the capacity for love. First the social life + palled on me; then my work grew irksome. There was only one factor to make + life endurable—morphia. Before six months were out I had fully + admitted that.” + </p> + <p> + “But your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my wife knew nothing—knows nothing. It is the political + business, the beastly routine of the political life, that is wearing me + out.” He stopped nervously, then hurried on, again. “I tell you it's hell + to see the same faces, to sit in the same seat day in, day out, knowing + all the time that you must hold yourself in hand, must keep your grip on + the reins—” + </p> + <p> + “It is always possible to apply for the Chiltern Hundreds.” + </p> + <p> + “To retire? Possible to retire?” Chilcote broke into a loud, sarcastic + laugh. “You don't know what the local pressure of a place like Wark stands + for. Twenty times I have been within an ace of chucking the whole thing. + Once last year I wrote privately to Vale, one of our big men there, and + hinted that my health was bad. Two hours after he had read my letter he + was in my study. Had I been in Greenland the result would have been the + same. No. Resignation is a meaningless word to a man like me.” + </p> + <p> + Loder looked down. “I see,” he said, slowly, “I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you see everything—the difficulty, the isolation of the + position. Five years ago—three—even two years ago—I was + able to endure it; now it gets more unbearable with every month. The day + is bound to come when—when”—he paused, hesitating nervously—“when + it will be physically impossible for me to be at my post.” + </p> + <p> + Loder remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Physically impossible,” Chilcote repeated, excitedly. “Until lately I was + able to calculate—to count upon myself to some extent; but yesterday + I received a shock—yesterday I discovered that—that”—again + he hesitated painfully—“that I have passed the stage when one may + calculate.” + </p> + <p> + The situation was growing more embarrassing. To hide its awkwardness, + Loder moved back to the grate and rebuilt the fire, which had fallen low. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote, still excited by his unusual vehemence, followed him, taking up + a position by the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said, looking down. + </p> + <p> + Very slowly Loder rose from his task. “Well?” he reiterated. + </p> + <p> + “Have you nothing to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, except that your story is unique, and that I suppose I am + flattered by your confidence.” His voice was intentionally brusque. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote paid no attention to the voice. Taking a step forward, he laid + his fingers on the lapel of Loder's coat. + </p> + <p> + “I have passed the stage where I can count upon myself,” he said, “and I + want to count upon somebody else. I want to keep my place in the world's + eyes and yet be free—” + </p> + <p> + Loder drew back involuntarily, contempt struggling with bewilderment in + his expression. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote lifted his head. “By an extraordinary chance,” he said, “you can + do for me what no other man in creation could do. It was suggested to me + unconsciously by the story of a book—a book in which men change + identities. I saw nothing in it at the time, but this morning, as I lay in + bed, sick with yesterday's fiasco, it came back to me—it rushed over + my mind in an inspiration. It will save me—and make you. I'm not + insulting you, though you'd like to think so.” + </p> + <p> + Without remark Loder freed himself from the other's touch and walked back + to his desk. His anger, his pride, and, against his will, his excitement + were all aroused. + </p> + <p> + He sat down, leaned his elbow on the desk and took his face between his + hands. The man behind him undoubtedly talked madness; but after five years + of dreary sanity madness had a fascination. Against all reason it stirred + and roused him. For one instant his pride and his anger faltered before + it, then common-sense flowed back again and adjusted the balance. + </p> + <p> + “You propose,” he said, slowly, “that for a consideration of money I + should trade on the likeness between us—and become your dummy, when + you are otherwise engaged?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote colored. “You are unpleasantly blunt,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But I have caught your meaning?” + </p> + <p> + “In the rough, yes.” + </p> + <p> + Loder nodded curtly. “Then take my advice and go home,” he said. “You're + unhinged.” + </p> + <p> + The other returned his glance, and as their eyes met Loder was reluctantly + compelled to admit that, though the face was disturbed, it had no traces + of insanity. + </p> + <p> + “I make you a proposal,” Chilcote repeated, nervously but with + distinctness. “Do you accept?” + </p> + <p> + For an instant Loder was at a loss to find a reply sufficiently final. + Chilcote broke in upon the pause. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” he urged, “what I ask of you is a simple thing. Merely to + carry through my routine duties for a week or two occasionally when I find + my endurance giving way—when a respite becomes essential. The work + would be nothing to a man in your state of mind, the pay anything you like + to name.” In his eagerness he had followed Loder to the desk. “Won't you + give me an answer? I told you I am neither mad nor drunk.” + </p> + <p> + Loder pushed back the scattered papers that lay under his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Only a lunatic would propose such a scheme.” he said, brusquely and + without feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + The other's lips parted for a quick retort; then in a surprising way the + retort seemed to fail him. “Oh, because the thing isn't feasible, isn't + practicable from any point of view.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote stepped closer. “Why?” he insisted. + </p> + <p> + “Because it couldn't work, man! Couldn't hold for a dozen hours.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote put out his hand and touched his arm. “But why?” he urged. “Why? + Give me one unanswerable reason.” + </p> + <p> + Loder shook off the hand and laughed, but below his laugh lay a suggestion + of the other's excitement. Again the scene stirred him against his sounder + judgment; though his reply, when it came, was firm enough. + </p> + <p> + “As for reasons—” he said. “There are a hundred, if I had time to + name them. Take it, for the sake of supposition, that I were to accept + your offer. I should take my place in your house at—let us say at + dinnertime. Your man gets me into your evening-clothes, and there, at the + very start, you have the first suspicion set up. He has probably known you + for years—known you until every turn of your appearance, voice, and + manner is far more familiar to him than it is to you. There are no eyes + like a servant's.” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought of that. My servant and my secretary can both be changed. + I will do the thing thoroughly.” + </p> + <p> + Loder glanced at him in surprise. The madness had more method than he had + believed. Then, as he still looked, a fresh idea struck him, and he + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “You have entirely forgotten one thing,” he said. “You can hardly dismiss + your wife.” + </p> + <p> + “My wife doesn't count.” + </p> + <p> + Again Loder laughed. “I'm afraid I scarcely agree. The complications would + be slightly—slightly—” He paused. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote's latent irritability broke out suddenly. “Look here,” he said, + “this isn't a chaffing matter, It may be moonshine to you, but it's + reality to me.” + </p> + <p> + Again Loder took his face between his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Don't ridicule the idea. I'm in dead earnest.” + </p> + <p> + Loder said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Think—think it over before you refuse.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Loder remained motionless; then h rose suddenly, pushing back + his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Tush, man! You don't know what you say. The fact of your being married + bars it. Can't you see that?” + </p> + <p> + Again Chilcote caught his arm. + </p> + <p> + “You misunderstand,” he said. “You mistake the position. I tell you my + wife and I are nothing to each other. She goes her way; I go mine. We have + our own friends, our own rooms. Marriage, actual marriage, doesn't enter + the question. We meet occasionally at meals, and at other people's houses; + sometimes we go out together for the sake of appearances; beyond that, + nothing. If you take up my life, nobody in it will trouble you less than + Eve—I can promise that.” He laughed unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + Loder's face remained unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “Even granting that,” he said, “the thing is still impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “There is the House. The position there would be untenable. A man is known + there as he is known in his own club.” He drew away from Chilcote's touch. + </p> + <p> + “Very possibly. Very possibly.” Chilcote laughed quickly and excitedly. + “But what club is without its eccentric member? I am glad you spoke of + that. I am glad you raised that point. It was a long time ago that I hit + upon a reputation for moods as a shield for—for other things, and, + the more useful it has become, the more I have let it grow. I tell you you + might go down to the House to-morrow and spend the whole day without + speaking to, even nodding to, a single man, and as long as you were I to + outward appearances no one would raise an eyebrow. In the same way you + might vote in my place ask a question, make a speech if you wanted to—” + </p> + <p> + At the word speech Loder turned involuntarily For a fleeting second the + coldness of his manner dropped and his face changed. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote, with his nervous quickness of perception, saw the alteration, + and a new look crossed his own face. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he said, quickly. “You once had ambitions in that direction. + Why not renew the ambitions?” + </p> + <p> + “And drop back from the mountains into the gutter?” Loder smiled and + slowly shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Better to live for one day than to exist for a hundred!” Chilcote's voice + trembled with anxiety. For the third time he extended his hand and touched + the other. + </p> + <p> + This time Loder did not shake off the detaining; hand; he scarcely seemed + to feel its pressure. + </p> + <p> + “Look here.” Chilcote's fingers tightened. “A little while ago you talked + of influence. Here you can step into a position built by influence. You + might do all you once hoped to do—” + </p> + <p> + Loder suddenly lifted his head. “Absurd!” he said. “Absurd! Such a scheme + was never carried through.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely why it will succeed. People never suspect until they have a + precedent. Will you consider it? At least consider it. Remember, if there + is a risk, it is I who am running it. On your own showing, you have no + position to jeopardize.” + </p> + <p> + The other laughed curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Before I go to-night will you promise me to consider it?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will send me your decision by wire to-morrow. I won't take your + answer now.” + </p> + <p> + Loder freed his arm abruptly. “Why not?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote smiled nervously. “Because I know men—and men's + temptations. We are all very strong till the quick is touched; then we all + wince. It's morphia with one man, ambitions with another. In each case + it's only a matter of sooner or later.” He laughed in his satirical, + unstrung way, and held out his hand. “'You have my address,” he said. “Au + revoir.” + </p> + <p> + Loder pressed the hand and dropped it. “Goodbye,” he said, meaningly. Then + he crossed the room quietly and held the door open. “Good-bye,” he said + again as the other passed him. + </p> + <p> + As he crossed the threshold, Chilcote paused. “Au revoir,” he corrected, + with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + Until the last echo of his visitor's steps had died away Loder stood with + his hand on the door; then, closing it quietly, he turned and looked round + the room. For a considerable space he stood there as if weighing the + merits of each object; then very slowly he moved to one of the + book-shelves, drew out May's Parliamentary Practice, and, carrying it to + the desk, readjusted the lamp. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI + </h2> + <p> + All the next day Chilcote moved in a fever of excitement. Hot with hope + one moment, cold with fever the next, he rushed with restless energy into + every task that presented itself—only to drop it as speedily. Twice + during the morning he drove to the entrance of Clifford's Inn, but each + time his courage failed him and he returned to Grosvenor Square—to + learn that the expected message from Loder had not come. + </p> + <p> + It was a wearing condition of mind; but at worst it was scarcely more than + an exaggeration of what his state had been for months, and made but little + obvious difference in his bearing or manner. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon he took his place in the House, but, though it was his + first appearance since his failure of two days ago, he drew but small + personal notice. When he chose, his manner could repel advances with + extreme effect, and of late men had been prone to draw away from him. + </p> + <p> + In one of the lobbies he encountered Fraide surrounded by a group of + friends. With his usual furtive haste he would have passed on; but, moving + away from his party, the old man accosted him. He was always courteously + particular in his treatment of Chilcote, as the husband of his ward and + godchild. + </p> + <p> + “Better, Chilcote?” he said, holding out his hand. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of the low, rather formal tones, so characteristic of the old + statesman, a hundred memories rose to Chilcote's mind, a hundred hours, + distasteful in the living and unbearable in the recollection; and with + them the new flash of hope, the new possibility of freedom. In a sudden + rush of confidence he turned to his leader. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I've found a remedy for my nerves,” he said. “I—I believe + I'm going to be anew man.” He laughed with a touch of excitement, + </p> + <p> + Fraide pressed his fingers kindly, “That is right,” he said. “That is + right. I called at Grosvenor Square this morning, but Eve told me your + illness of the other day was not serious. She was very busy this morning—she + could only spare me a quarter of an hour. She is indefatigable over the + social side of your prospects. Chilcote. You owe her a large debt. A + popular wife means a great deal to a politician.” + </p> + <p> + The steady eyes of his companion disturbed Chilcote. + </p> + <p> + He drew away his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Eve is unique,” he said, vaguely. + </p> + <p> + Fraide smiled. “That is right,” he said again. “Admiration is too largely + excluded from modern marriages.” And with a courteous excuse he rejoined + his friends. + </p> + <p> + It was dinner-time before Chilcote could desert the House, but the moment + departure was possible he hurried to Grosvenor Square. + </p> + <p> + As he entered the house, the hall was empty. He swore irritably under his + breath and pressed the nearest bell. Since his momentary exaltation in + Fraide's presence, his spirits had steadily fallen, until now they hung at + the lowest ebb. + </p> + <p> + As he waited in unconcealed impatience for an answer to his summons, he + caught sight of his man Allsopp at the head of the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Come here!” he called, pleased to find some one upon whom to vent his + irritation. “Has that wire come for me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I inquired five minutes back.” + </p> + <p> + “Inquire again.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” Allsopp disappeared. + </p> + <p> + A second after his disappearance the bell of the hall door whizzed loudly. + </p> + <p> + Chileote started. All sudden sounds, like all strong lights, affected him. + He half moved to the door, then stopped himself with a short exclamation. + At the same instant Allsopp reappeared. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote turned on him excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil's the meaning of this?” he said. “A battery of servants in + the house and nobody to open the hall door!” + </p> + <p> + Allsopp looked embarrassed. “Crapham is coming directly, sir. He only left + the hall to ask Jeffries—” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote turned. “Confound Crapham!” he exclaimed. “Go and open the door + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Allsopp hesitated, his dignity struggling with his obedience. As he + waited, the bell sounded again. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear me?” Chilcote said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” Allsopp crossed the hall. + </p> + <p> + As the door was opened Chilcote passed his handkerchief from one hand to + the other in the tension of hope and fear; then, as the sound of his own + name in the shrill tones of a telegraph-boy reached his ears, he let the + handkerchief drop to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Allsopp took the yellow envelope and carried it to his master. + </p> + <p> + “A telegram, sir,” he said. “And the boy wishes to know if there is an + answer.” Picking up Chilcote's handkerchief, he turned aside with + elaborate dignity. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote's hands were so unsteady that he could scarcely insert his finger + under the flap of the envelope. Tearing off a corner, he wrenched the + covering apart and smoothed out the flimsy pink paper. + </p> + <p> + The message was very simple, consisting of but seven words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Shall expect you at eleven to-night.-LODER.” + </pre> + <p> + He read it two or three times, then he looked up. “No answer,” he said, + mechanically; and to his own ears the relief in his voice sounded harsh + and unnatural. + </p> + <p> + Exactly as the clocks chimed eleven Chilcote mounted the stairs to Loder's + rooms. But this time there was more of haste than of uncertainty in his + steps, and, reaching the landing, he crossed it in a couple of strides and + knocked feverishly on the door. + </p> + <p> + It opened at once, and Loder stood before him. + </p> + <p> + The occasion was peculiar. For a moment neither spoke; each involuntarily + looked at the other with new eyes and under changed conditions. Each had + assumed a fresh stand-point in the other's thought. The passing + astonishment, the half-impersonal curiosity that had previously tinged + their relationship, was cast aside, never to be reassumed. In each, the + other saw himself—and something more. + </p> + <p> + As usual, Loder was the first to recover himself. + </p> + <p> + “I was expecting you,” he said. “Won't you come in?” + </p> + <p> + The words were almost the same as his words of the night before, but his + voice had a different ring; just as his face, when he drew back into the + room, had a different expression—a suggestion of decision and energy + that had been lacking before. Chilcote caught the difference as he crossed + the threshold, and for a bare second a flicker of something like jealousy + touched him. But the sensation was fleeting. + </p> + <p> + “I have to thank you!” he said, holding out his hand. He was too well bred + to show by a hint that he understood the drop in the other's principles. + But Loder broke down the artifice. + </p> + <p> + “Let's be straight with each other, since everybody else has to be + deceived,” he said, taking the other's hand. “You have nothing to thank me + for, and you know it. It's a touch of the old Adam. You tempted me, and I + fell.” He laughed, but below the laugh ran a note of something like + triumph—the curious triumph of a man who has known the tyranny of + strength and suddenly appreciates the freedom of a weakness. + </p> + <p> + “You fully realize the thing you have proposed?” he added, in a different + tone. “It's not too late to retract, even now.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote opened his lips, paused, then laughed in imitation of his + companion; but the laugh sounded forced. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” he said at last, “I never retract.” + </p> + <p> + “Never?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the bargain's sealed.” + </p> + <p> + Loder walked slowly across the room, and, taking up his position by the + mantel-piece, looked at his companion. The similarity between them as they + faced each other seemed abnormal, defying even the closest scrutiny. And + yet, so mysterious is Nature even in her lapses, they were subtly, + indefinably different. Chilcote was Loder deprived of one essential: + Loder, Chilcote with that essential bestowed. The difference lay neither + in feature, in coloring, nor in height, but in that baffling, illusive + inner illumination that some call individuality, and others soul. + </p> + <p> + Something of this idea, misted and tangled by nervous imagination, crossed + Chilcote's mind in that moment of scrutiny, but he shrank from it + apprehensively. + </p> + <p> + “I—I came to discuss details,” he said, quickly, crossing the space + that divided him from his host. “Shall we—? Are you—?” He + paused uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “I'm entirely in your hands.” Loder spoke with abrupt decision. Moving to + the table, he indicated a chair, and drew another forward for himself. + </p> + <p> + Both men sat down. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote leaned forward, resting elbows on the table. “There will be + several things to consider—” he began, nervously, looking across at + the other. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so.” Loder glanced back appreciatively. “I thought about those + things the better part of last night. To begin with, I must study your + handwriting. I guarantee to get it right, but it will take a month.” + </p> + <p> + “A month!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps three weeks. We mustn't make a mess of things.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote shifted his position. + </p> + <p> + “Three weeks!” he repeated. “Couldn't you—?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I couldn't.” Loder spoke authoritatively. “I might never want to put + pen to paper, but, on the other hand, I might have to sign a check one + day.” He laughed. “Have you ever thought of that?—that I might have + to, or want to, sign a check?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I confess that escaped me.” + </p> + <p> + “You risk your fortune that you, may keep the place it bought for you?” + Loder laughed again. “How do you know that I am not a blackguard?” he + added. “How do you know that I won't clear out one day and leave you high + and dry? What is to prevent John Chilcote from realizing forty or fifty + thousand pounds and then making himself scarce?” + </p> + <p> + “You won't do that,” Chilcote said, with unusual decision. “I told you + your weakness last night; and it wasn't money. Money isn't the rock you'll + split over.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you think I'll split upon some rock? But that's beyond the question. + To get to business again. You'll risk my studying your signature?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Right! Now item two.” Loder counted on his: fingers. “I must know the + names and faces of your men friends as far as I can. Your woman friends + don't count. While I'm you, you will be adamant.” He laughed again + pleasantly. “But the men are essential—the backbone of the whole + business.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no men friends. I don't trust the idea of friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “Acquaintances, then.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote looked up sharply. “I think we score there,” he said. “I have a + reputation for absent-mindedness that will carry you anywhere. They tell + me I can look through the most substantial man in the House as if he were + gossamer, though I may have lunched with him the same day.” + </p> + <p> + Loder smiled. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. “Fate Must have been constructing + this before either of us was born. It dovetails ridiculously. But I must + know your colleagues—even if it's only to cut them. You'll have to + take me to the House.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all!” Again the tone of authority fell to Loder. “I can pull my + hat over my eyes and turn up my coat-collar. Nobody will notice me. We can + choose the fall of the afternoon. I promise you 'twill be all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose the likeness should leak out? It's a risk.” + </p> + <p> + Loder laughed confidently. “Tush, man! Risk is the salt of life. I must + see you at your post, and I must see the men you work with.” He rose, + walked across the room, and took his pipe from the rack. “When I go in for + a thing, I like to go in over head and ears,” he added, as he opened his + tobacco-jar. + </p> + <p> + His pipe filled, he resumed his seat, resting his elbows on the table in + unconscious imitation of Chilcote. + </p> + <p> + “Got a match?” he said, laconically, holding out his band. + </p> + <p> + In response Chilcote drew his match-box from his pocket and struck a + light. As their hands touched, an exclamation escaped him. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” he said, with a fretful mixture of disappointment and surprise. + “I hadn't noticed that!” His eyes were fixed in annoyed interest on + Loder's extended hand. + </p> + <p> + Loder, following his glance, smiled. “Odd that we should both have + overlooked it! It clean escaped my mind. It's rather an ugly scar.” He + lifted his hand till the light fell more fully on it. Above the second + joint of the third finger ran a jagged furrow, the reminder of a wound + that had once laid bare the bone. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote leaned forward. “How did you come by it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The other shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, that's ancient history.” + </p> + <p> + “The results are present-day enough. It's very awkward! Very annoying!” + Chilcote's spirits, at all times overeasily played upon, were damped by + this obstacle. + </p> + <p> + Loder, still looking at his hand, didn't seem to hear. “There's only one + thing to be done,” he said. “Each wear two rings on the third finger of + the left hand. Two rings ought to cover it.” He made a speculative + measurement with the stem of his pipe. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote still looked irritable and disturbed. “I detest rings. I never + wear rings.” + </p> + <p> + Loder raised his eyes calmly. “Neither do I,” he said. “But there's no + reason for bigotry.” + </p> + <p> + But Chilcote's irritability was started. He pushed back his chair. “I + don't like the idea,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The other eyed him amusedly. “What a queer beggar you are!” he said. “You + waive the danger of a man signing your checks and shy at wearing a piece + of jewelry. I'll have a fair share of individuality to study.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote moved restlessly. “Everybody knows I detest jewelry.” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody knows you are capricious. It's got to be the rings or nothing, + so far as I make out.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote again altered his position, avoiding the other's eyes. At last, + after a struggle with himself, he looked up. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you're right!” he said. “Have it your own way.” It was the + first small, tangible concession to the stronger will. + </p> + <p> + Loder took his victory quietly. “Good!” he said. “Then it's all straight + sailing?” + </p> + <p> + “Except for the matter of the—the remuneration.” Chilcote hazarded + the word uncertainly. + </p> + <p> + There was a faint pause, then Loder laughed brusquely. “My pay?” + </p> + <p> + The other was embarrassed. “I didn't want to put it quite like that.” + </p> + <p> + “But that was what you thought. Why are you never honest—even with + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote drew his chair closer to the table. He did not attend to the + other's remark, but his fingers strayed to his waistcoat pocket and + fumbled there. + </p> + <p> + Loder saw the gesture. “Look here,” he said, “you are overtaxing yourself. + The affair of the pay isn't pressing; we'll shelve it to another night. + You look tired out.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote lifted his eyes with a relieved glance. “Thanks. I do feel a bit + fagged. If I may, I'll have that whiskey that I refused last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly.” Loder rose at once and crossed to a cupboard in the + wall. In silence he brought out whiskey, glasses, and a siphon of + soda-water. “Say when!” he said, lifting the whiskey. + </p> + <p> + “Now. And I'll have plain water instead of soda, if it's all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite.” Loder recrossed the room. Instantly his back was turned, + Chilcote drew a couple of tabloids from his pocket and dropped them into + his glass. As the other came slowly back he laughed nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. See to your own drink now; I can manage this.” He took the jug + unceremoniously, and, carefully guarding his glass from the light, poured + in the water with excited haste. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we drink to?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Loder methodically mixed his own drink and lifted the glass. “Oh, to the + career of John Chilcote!” he answered. + </p> + <p> + For an instant the other hesitated. There was something prophetic in the + sound of the toast. But he shook the feeling off and held up his glass. + </p> + <p> + “To the career of John Chilcote!” he said, with another unsteady laugh. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII + </h2> + <p> + It was a little less than three weeks since Chilcote and Loder had drunk + their toast, and again Loder was seated at his desk. + </p> + <p> + His head was bent and his hand moved carefully as he traced line after + line of meaningless words on a sheet of foolscap. Having covered the page + with writing, he rose, moved to the centre-table, and compared his task + with an open letter that lay there. The comparison seemed to please him; + he straightened his shoulders and threw back his head in an attitude of + critical satisfaction. So absorbed was he that, when a step sounded on the + stairs outside, he did not notice it, and only raised his head when the + door was thrown open unceremoniously. Even then his interest was + momentary. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” he said, his eyes returning to their scrutiny of his task. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote shut the door and came hastily across the room. He looked ill and + harassed. As he reached Loder he put out his hand nervously and touched + his arm. + </p> + <p> + Loder looked up. “What is it?” he asked. “Any new development?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote tried to smile. “Yes,” he said, huskily; “it's come.” + </p> + <p> + Loder freed his arm. “What? The end of the world?” + </p> + <p> + “No. The end of me.” The words came jerkily, the strain that had enforced + them showing in every syllable. + </p> + <p> + Still Loder was uncomprehending; he could not, or would not, understand. + </p> + <p> + Again Chilcote caught and jerked at his sleeve. “Don't you see? Can't you + see?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote dropped the sleeve and passed his handkerchief across his + forehead. “It's come,” he repeated. “Don't you understand? I want you.” He + drew away, then stepped back again anxiously. “I know I'm taking you + unawares,” he said. “But it's not my fault. On my soul, it's not! The + thing seems to spring at me and grip me—” He stopped, sinking weakly + into a chair. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Loder stood erect and immovable—then, almost with + reluctance, his glance turned to the figure beside him. + </p> + <p> + “You want me to take your place to-night—without preparation?” His + voice was distinct and firm, but it was free from contempt. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; yes, I do.” Chilcote spoke without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “That you may spend the night in morphia—this and other nights?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote lifted a flushed, unsettled face. “You have no right to preach. + You accepted the bargain.” + </p> + <p> + Loder raised his head quickly. “I never—” he began; then both his + face and voice altered. “You are quite right,” he said, coldly. “You won't + have to complain again.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote stirred uncomfortably. “My dear chap,” he said, “I meant no + offence. It's merely—” + </p> + <p> + “Your nerves. I know. But come to business. What am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote rose excitedly. “Yes, business. Let's come to business. It's + rough on you, taking you short like this. But you have an erratic person + to deal with. I've had a horrible day—a horrible day.” His face had + paled again, and in the green lamplight it possessed a grayish hue. + Involuntarily Loder turned away. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote watched him as he passed to the desk and began mechanically + sorting papers. “A horrible day!” he repeated. “So bad that I daren't face + the night. You have read De Quincey?” he asked, with a sudden change of + tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then read him again and you'll understand. I have all the horrors—without + any art. I have no 'Ladies of Sorrow,' but I have worse monsters than his + 'crocodile'.” He laughed unpleasantly. + </p> + <p> + Loder turned. “Why in the devil's name—” he began; then again he + halted. Something in Chilcote's drawn, excited face checked him. The + strange sense of predestination that we sometimes see in the eyes of + another struck cold upon him, chilling his last attempt at remonstrance. + “What do you want me to do?” he substituted, in an ordinary voice. + </p> + <p> + The words steadied Chilcote. He laughed a little. The laugh was still + shaky, but it was pitched in a lower key. + </p> + <p> + “You—you're quite right to pull me up. We have no time to waste. It + must be one o'clock.” He pulled out his watch, then walked to the window + and stood looking down into the shadowy court. “How quiet you are here!” + he said. Then abruptly anew thought struck him and he wheeled back into + the room. “Loder,” he said, quickly—-“Loder, I have an idea! While + you are me, why shouldn't I be you? Why shouldn't I be John Loder instead + of the vagrant we contemplated? It covers everything—it explains + everything. It's magnificent! I'm amazed we never thought of it before.” + </p> + <p> + Loder was still beside the desk. “I thought of it,” he said, without + looking back. + </p> + <p> + “And didn't suggest it?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Loder said nothing and the other colored. + </p> + <p> + “Jealous of your reputation?” he said, satirically. + </p> + <p> + “I have none to be jealous of.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote laughed disagreeably. “Then you aren't so for gone in philosophy + as I thought. You have a niche in your own good opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Again Loder was silent; then he smiled. “You have an oddly correct + perception at times,” he said. “I suppose I have had a lame sort of pride + in keeping my name clean. But pride like that is out of fashion—and + I've got to float with the tide.” He laughed, the short laugh that + Chilcote had heard once or twice before, and, crossing the room, he stood + beside his visitor. “After all,” he said, “what business have I with + pride, straight or lame? Have my identity, if you want it. When all + defences have been broken down one barrier won't save the town.” Laughing + again, he laid his hand on the other's arm. “Come,” he said, “give your + orders. I capitulate.” + </p> + <p> + An hour later the two men passed from Loder's bed room, where the final + arrangements had been completed, back into the sitting-room. Loder came + first, in faultless evening-dress. His hair was carefully brushed, the + clothes he wore fitted him perfectly. To any glance, critical or casual, + he was the man who had mounted the stairs and entered the rooms earlier in + the evening. Chilcote's manner of walking and poise of the head seemed to + have descended upon him with Chilcote's clothes. He came into the room + hastily and passed to the desk. + </p> + <p> + “I have no private papers,” he said, “so I have nothing to lock up. + Everything can stand as it is. A woman named Robins comes in the mornings + to clean up and light the fire; otherwise you must shift for yourself. + Nobody will disturb you. Quiet, dead quiet, is about the one thing you can + count on.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote, half halting in the doorway, made an attempt to laugh. Of the + two, he was noticeably the more embarrassed. In Loder's well-worn, + well-brushed tweed suit he felt stranded on his own personality, bereft + for the moment of the familiar accessories that helped to cloak + deficiencies and keep the wheel of conventionality comfortably rolling. He + stood unpleasantly conscious of himself, unable to shape his sensations + even in thought. He glanced at the fire, at the table, finally at the + chair on which he had thrown his overcoat before entering the bedroom. At + the sight of the coat his gaze brightened, the aimlessness forsook him, + and he gave an exclamation of relief. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” he said. “I clean forgot.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” Loder looked round. + </p> + <p> + “The rings.” He crossed to the coat and thrust his hand into the pocket. + “The duplicates only arrived this afternoon. The nick of time, eh?” He + spoke fast, his fingers searching busily. Occupation of any kind came as a + boon. + </p> + <p> + Loder slowly followed him, and as the box was brought to light he leaned + forward interestedly. + </p> + <p> + “As I told you, one is the copy of an old signet-ring, the other a plain + band—a plain gold band like a wedding-ring.” Chilcote laughed as he + placed the four rings side by side on his palm. “I could think of nothing + else that would be wide—and not ostentatious. You know how I detest + display.” + </p> + <p> + Loder touched the rings. “You have good taste,” he said. “Let's see if + they serve their purpose?” He picked them up and carried them to the lamp. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote followed him. “That was an ugly wound,” he said, his curiosity + reawakening as Loder extended his finger. “How did you come by it?” + </p> + <p> + The other smiled. “It's a memento,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Of bravery?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Quite the reverse.” He looked again at his hand, then glanced back at + Chilcote. “No,” he repeated, with an unusual impulse of confidence. “It + serves to remind me that I am not exempt—that I have been fooled + like other men.” + </p> + <p> + “That implies a woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Again Loder looked at the scar on his finger. “I seldom recall the + thing, it's so absolutely past. But I rather like to remember it to-night. + I rather want you to know that I've been through the fire. It's a sort of + guarantee.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote made a hasty gesture, but the other interrupted it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know you trust me. But you're giving me a risky post. I want you to + see that women are out of my line—quite out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear chap—” + </p> + <p> + Loder went on without heeding. “This thing happened eight years ago at + Santasalare,” he said, “a little place between Luna and Pistoria—a + mere handful of houses wedged between two hills. A regular relic of old + Italy crumbling away under flowers and sunshine, with nothing to suggest + the present century except the occasional passing of a train round the + base of one of the hills. I had literally stumbled upon the place on a + long tramp south from Switzerland, and had been tempted into a stay at the + little inn. The night after my arrival something unusual occurred. There + was an accident to the train at the point where it skirted the village. + </p> + <p> + “There was a small excitement; all the inhabitants were anxious to help, + and I took my share. As a matter of fact, the smash was not disastrous; + the passengers were hurt and frightened, but nobody was killed.” + </p> + <p> + He paused and looked at his companion, but, seeing him interested, went + on: + </p> + <p> + “Among these passengers was an English lady. Of all concerned in the + business, she was the least upset. When I came upon her she was sitting on + the shattered door of one of the carriages, calmly rearranging her hat. On + seeing me she looked up with the most charming smile imaginable. + </p> + <p> + “'I have just been waiting for somebody like you,' she said. 'My stupid + maid has got herself smashed up somewhere in the second-class carriages, + and I have nobody to help me to find my dog.' + </p> + <p> + “Of course, that first speech ought to have enlightened me, but it didn't. + I only saw the smile and heard the voice; I knew nothing of whether they + were deep or shallow. So I found the maid and found the dog. The first + expressed gratitude; the other didn't. I extricated him with enormous + difficulty from the wreck of the luggage-van, and this was how he marked + his appreciation.” He held out his hand and nodded towards the scar. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote glanced up. “So that's the explanation?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I tried to conceal the thing when I restored the dog, but I was + bleeding abominably and I failed. Then the whole business was changed. It + was I who needed seeing to, my new friend insisted; I who should be looked + after, and not she. She forgot the dog in the newer interest of my wounded + finger. The maid, who was practically unhurt, was sent on to engage rooms + at the little inn, and she and I followed slowly. + </p> + <p> + “That walk impressed me. There was an attractive mistiness of atmosphere + in the warm night, a sensation more than attractive in being made much of + by a woman of one's own class and country after five years' wandering.” He + laughed with a touch of irony. “But I won't take up your time with + details. You know the progress of an ordinary love affair. Throw in a few + more flowers and a little more sunshine than is usual, a man who is + practically a hermit and a woman who knows the world by heart, and you + have the whole thing. + </p> + <p> + “She insisted on staying in Santasalare for three days in order to keep my + finger bandaged; she ended by staying three weeks in the hope of smashing + up my life. + </p> + <p> + “On coming to the hotel she had given no name; and in our first + explanations to each other she led me to conclude her an unmarried girl. + It was at the end of the three weeks that I learned that she was not a + free agent, as I had innocently imagined, but possessed a husband whom she + had left ill with malaria at Florence or Rome. + </p> + <p> + “The news disconcerted me, and I took no pains to hide it. After that the + end came abruptly. In her eyes I had become a fool with middle-class + principles; in my eyes—But there is no need for that. She left + Santasalare the same night in a great confusion of trunks and hat-boxes; + and next morning I strapped on my knapsack and turned my face to the + south.” + </p> + <p> + “And women don't count ever after?” Chilcote smiled, beguiled out of + himself. + </p> + <p> + Loder laughed. “That's what I've been trying to convey. Once bitten, twice + shy!” He laughed again and slipped the two rings over his finger with an + air of finality. + </p> + <p> + “Now, shall I start? This is the latch-key?” He drew a key from the pocket + of Chilcote's evening-clothes. “When I get to Grosvenor Square I am to + find your house, go straight in, mount the stairs, and there on my right + hand will be the door of your—I mean my own—private rooms. I + think I've got it all by heart. I feel inspired; I feel that I can't go + wrong.” He handed the two remaining rings to Chilcote and picked up the + overcoat. + </p> + <p> + “I'll stick on till I get a wire—,” he said. “Then I'll come back + and we'll reverse again.” He slipped on the coat and moved back towards + the table. Now that the decisive moment had come, it embarrassed him. + </p> + <p> + Scarcely knowing how to bring it to an end, he held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote took it, paling a little. “'Twill be all right!” he said, with a + sudden return of nervousness. “'Twill be all right! And I've made it plain + about—about the remuneration? A hundred a week—besides all + expenses.” + </p> + <p> + Loder smiled again. “My pay? Oh yes, you've made it clear as day. Shall we + say good-night now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + There was a strange, distant note in Chilcote's voice, but the other did + not pretend to hear it. He pressed the hand he was holding, though the + cold dampness of it repelled him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” he said again. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + They stood for a moment, awkwardly looking at each other, then Loder + quietly disengaged his hand, crossed the room, and passed through the + door. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote, left standing alone in the middle of the room, listened while + the last sound of the other's footsteps was audible on the uncarpeted + stairs; then, with a furtive, hurried gesture, he caught up the + green-shaded lamp and passed into Loder's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII + </h2> + <p> + To all men come portentous moments, difficult moments, triumphant moments. + Loder had had his examples of all three, but no moment in his career ever + equalled in strangeness of sensation that in which, dressed in another + man's clothes, he fitted the latchkey for the first time into the door of + the other man's house. + </p> + <p> + The act was quietly done. The key fitted the lock smoothly and his fingers + turned it without hesitation, though his heart, usually extremely steady, + beat sharply for a second. The hall loomed massive and sombre despite the + modernity of electric lights. It was darkly and expensively decorated in + black and brown; a frieze of wrought bronze, representing peacocks with + outspread tails, ornamented the walls; the banisters were of heavy + iron-work, and the somewhat formidable fireplace was of the same dark + metal. + </p> + <p> + Loder looked about him, then advanced, his heart again beating quickly as + his hand touched the cold banister and he began his ascent of the stairs. + But at each step his confidence strengthened, his feet became more firm; + until, at the head of the stairs, as if to disprove his assurance, his + pulses played him false once more, this time to a more serious tune. From + the farther end of a well-lighted corridor a maid was coming straight in + his direction. + </p> + <p> + For one short second all things seemed to whiz about him; the certainty of + detection overpowered his mind. The indisputable knowledge that he was + John Loder and no other, despite all armor of effrontery and dress, so + dominated him that all other considerations shrank before it. It wanted + but one word, one simple word of denunciation, and the whole scheme was + shattered. In the dismay of the moment, he almost wished that the word + might be spoken and the suspense ended. + </p> + <p> + But the maid came on in silence, and so incredible was the silence that + Loder moved onward, too. He came within a yard of her, and still she did + not speak; then, as he passed her, she drew back respectfully against the + wall. + </p> + <p> + The strain, so astonishingly short, had been immense, but with its + slackening came a strong reaction. The expected humiliation seethed + suddenly to a desire to dare fate. Pausing quickly, he turned and called + the woman back. + </p> + <p> + The spot where he had halted was vividly bright, the ceiling light being + directly above his head; and as she came towards him he raised his face + deliberately and-waited. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him without surprise or interest. “Yes, sir?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Is your mistress in?” he asked. He could think of no other question, but + it served his purpose as a test of his voice. + </p> + <p> + Still the woman showed no surprise. “She's not in sir,” she answered. “But + she's expected in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “In half an hour? All right! That's all I wanted.” With a movement of + decision Loder walked back to the stair-head, turned to the right, and + opened the door of Chilcote's rooms. + </p> + <p> + The door opened on a short, wide passage; on one side stood the study, on + the other the bed, bath, and dressing-rooms. With a blind sense of + knowledge and unfamiliarity, bred of much description on Chilcote's part, + he put his hand on the study door and, still exalted by the omen of his + first success, turned the handle. + </p> + <p> + Inside the room there was firelight and lamplight and a studious air of + peace. The realization of this and a slow incredulity at Chilcote's + voluntary renunciation were his first impressions; then his attention was + needed for more imminent things. + </p> + <p> + As he entered, the new secretary was returning a volume to its place on + the book-shelves. At sight of him, he pushed it hastily into position and + turned round. + </p> + <p> + “I was making a few notes on the political position of Khorasan,” he said, + glancing with slight apprehensiveness at the other's face. He was a small, + shy man, with few social attainments but an extraordinary amount of + learning—the antithesis of the alert Blessington, whom he had + replaced. + </p> + <p> + Loder bore his scrutiny without flinching. Indeed, it struck him suddenly + that there was a fund of interest, almost of excitement, in the + encountering of each new pair of eyes. At the thought he moved forward to + the desk. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Greening,” he said. “A very useful bit of work.” + </p> + <p> + The secretary glanced up, slightly puzzled. His endurance had been + severely taxed in the fourteen days that he had filled his new post. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you think so, sir,” he said, hesitatingly. “You rather + pooh-poohed the matter this morning, if you remember.” + </p> + <p> + Loder was taking off his coat, but stopped in the operation. + </p> + <p> + “This morning?” he said. “Oh, did I? Did I?” Then, struck by the + opportunity the words gave him, he turned towards the secretary. “You've + got to get used to me, Greening,” he said. “You haven't quite grasped me + yet, I can see. I'm a man of moods, you know. Up to the present you've + seen my slack side, my jarred side, but I have quite another when I care + to show it. I'm a sort of Jekyll-and-Hyde affair.” Again he laughed, and + Greening echoed the sound diffidently. Chilcote had evidently discouraged + familiarity. + </p> + <p> + Loder eyed him with abrupt understanding. He recognized the loneliness in + the anxious, conciliatory manner. + </p> + <p> + “You're tired,” he said, kindly. “Go to bed. I've got some thinking to do. + Good-night.” He held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + Greening took it, still half distrustful of this fresh side to so complex + a man. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, sir,” he said. “To-morrow, if you approve, I shall go on with + my notes. I hope you will have a restful night.” + </p> + <p> + For a second Loder's eyebrows went up, but he recovered himself instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, thanks, Greening,” he said. “Thanks. I think your hope will be + fulfilled.” + </p> + <p> + He watched the little secretary move softly and apologetically to the + door; then he walked to the fire, and, resting his elbows on the + mantel-piece, he took his face in his hands. + </p> + <p> + For a space he stood absolutely quiet, then his hands dropped to his sides + and he turned slowly round. In that short space he had balanced things and + found his bearings. The slight nervousness shown in his brusque sentences + and overconfident manner faded out, and he faced facts steadily. + </p> + <p> + With the return of his calmness he took a long survey of the room. His + glance brightened appreciatively as it travelled from the walls lined with + well-bound books to the lamps modulated to the proper light; from the + lamps to the desk fitted with every requirement. Nothing was lacking. All + he had once possessed, all he had since dreamed of, was here, but on a + greater scale. To enjoy the luxuries of life a man must go long without + them. Loder had lived severely—so severely that until three weeks + ago he had believed himself exempt from the temptations of humanity. Then + the voice of the world had spoken, and within him another voice had + answered, with a tone so clamorous and insistent that it had outcried his + surprised and incredulous wonder at its existence and its claims. That had + been the voice of suppressed ambition; and now as he stood in the new + atmosphere a newer voice lifted itself. The joy of material things rose + suddenly, overbalancing the last remnant of the philosophy he had reared. + He saw all things in a fresh light—the soft carpets, the soft + lights, the numberless pleasant, unnecessary things that color the passing + landscape and oil the wheels of life. This was power—power made + manifest. The choice bindings of one's books, the quiet harmony of one's + surroundings, the gratifying deference of one's dependants—these + were the visible, the outward signs, the things he had forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Crossing the room slowly, he lifted and looked at the different papers on + the desk. They had a substantial feeling, an importance, an air of value. + They were like the solemn keys to so many vexed problems. Beside the + papers were a heap of letters neatly arranged and as yet unopened. He + turned them over one by one. They were all thick, and interesting to look + at. He smiled as he recalled his own scanty mail: envelopes long and bulky + or narrow and thin—unwelcome manuscripts or very welcome checks. + Having sorted the letters, he hesitated. It was his task to open them, but + he had never in his life opened an envelope addressed to another man. + </p> + <p> + He stood uncertain, weighing them in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Then all at once a look of attention and surprise crossed his face, and he + raised his head. Some one had unmistakably paused outside the door which + Greening had left ajar. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of apparent doubt, then a stir of skirts, a quick, + uncertain knock, and the intruder entered. + </p> + <p> + For a couple of seconds she stood in the doorway; then, as Loder made no + effort to speak, she moved into the room. She had apparently but just + returned from some entertainment, for, though she had drawn off her long + gloves, she was still wearing an evening cloak of lace and fur. + </p> + <p> + That she was Chilcote's wife Loder instinctively realized the moment she + entered the room. But a disconcerting confusion of ideas was all that + followed the knowledge. He stood by the desk, silent and awkward, trying + to fit his expectations to his knowledge. Then, faced by the hopelessness + of the task, he turned abruptly and looked at her again. + </p> + <p> + She had taken off her cloak and was standing by the fire. The compulsion + of moving through life alone had set its seal upon her in a certain + self-possession, a certain confidence of pose; yet her figure, as Loder + then saw it, backgrounded by the dark books and gowned in pale blue, had a + suggestion of youthfulness that seemed a contradiction. The remembrance of + Chilcote's epithets “cold” and “unsympathetic” came back to him with + something like astonishment. He felt no uncertainty, no dread of discovery + and humiliation in her presence as he had felt in the maid's; yet there + was something in her face that made him infinitely more uncomfortable. A + look he could find no name for—a friendliness that studiously + covered another feeling, whether question, distrust, or actual dislike he + could not say. With a strange sensation of awkwardness he sorted + Chilcote's letters, waiting for her to speak. + </p> + <p> + As if divining his thought, she turned towards him. “I'm afraid I rather + intrude,” she said. “If you are busy—” + </p> + <p> + His sense of courtesy was touched; he had begun life with a high opinion + of women, and the words shook up an echo of the old sentiment. + </p> + <p> + “Don't think that,” he said, hastily. “I was only looking through—my + letters. You mustn't rate yourself below letters.” He was conscious that + his tone was hurried, that his words were a little jagged; but Eve did not + appear to notice. Unlike Greening, she took the new manner without + surprise. She had known Chilcote for six years. + </p> + <p> + “I dined with the Fraides to-night,” she said. “Mr. Fraide sent you a + message.” + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously Loder smiled. There was humor in the thought of a message to + him from the great Fraide. To hide his amusement he wheeled one of the big + lounge-chairs forward. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” he said. “Won't you sit down?” + </p> + <p> + They were near together now, and he saw her face more fully. Again he was + taken aback. Chilcote had spoken of her as successful and intelligent, but + never as beautiful. Yet her beauty was a rare and uncommon fact. Her hair + was black—not a glossy black, but the dusky black that is softer + than any brown; her eyes were large and of a peculiarly pure blue; and her + eyelashes were black, beautifully curved and of remarkable thickness. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you sit down?” he said again, cutting short his thoughts with some + confusion. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” She gravely accepted the proffered chair. But he saw that + without any ostentation she drew her skirts aside as she passed him. The + action displeased him unaccountably. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, shortly, “what had Fraide to say?” He walked to the + mantel-piece with his customary movement and stood watching her. The + instinct towards hiding his face had left him. Her instant and + uninterested acceptance of him almost nettled him; his own + half-contemptuous impression of Chilcote came to him unpleasantly, and + with it the first desire to assert his own individuality. Stung by the + conflicting emotions, he felt in Chilcote's pockets for something to + smoke. + </p> + <p> + Eve saw and interpreted the action. “Are these your cigarettes?” She + leaned towards a small table and took up a box made of lizard-skin. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks.” He took the box from her, and as it passed from one to the other + he saw her glance at his rings. The glance was momentary; her lips parted + to express question or surprise, then closed again without comment. More + than any spoken words, the incident showed him the gulf that separated + husband and wife. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said again, “what about Fraide?” + </p> + <p> + At his words she sat straighter and looked at him more directly, as if + bracing herself to a task. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fraide is—is as interested as ever in you,” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Or in you?” Loder made the interruption precisely as he felt Chilcote + would have made it. Then instantly he wished the words back. + </p> + <p> + Eve's warm skin colored more deeply; for a second the inscrutable + underlying expression that puzzled him showed in her eyes, then she sank + back into a corner of the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you make such a point of sneering at my friends?” she asked, + quietly. “I overlook it when you are nervous.” She halted slightly on the + word. “But you are not nervous tonight.” + </p> + <p> + Loder, to his great humiliation, reddened. Except for an occasional + outburst on the part of Mrs. Robins, his charwoman, he had not merited a + woman's displeasure for years. + </p> + <p> + “The sneer was unintentional,” he said. + </p> + <p> + For the first time Eve showed a personal interest. She looked at him in a + puzzled way. “If your apology was meant,” she said, hesitatingly, “I + should be glad to accept it.” + </p> + <p> + Loder, uncertain of how to take the words, moved back to the desk. He + carried an unlighted cigarette between his fingers. + </p> + <p> + There was an interval in which neither spoke. Then, at last, conscious of + its awkwardness, Eve rose. With one hand on the back of her chair, she + looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fraide thinks it's such a pity that”—she stopped to choose her + words—“that you should lose hold on things—lose interest in + things, as you are doing. He has been thinking a good deal about you in + the last three weeks—ever since the day of your—your illness + in the House; and it seems to him,”—again she broke off, watching + Loder's averted head—“it seems to him that if you made one real + effort now, even now, to shake off your restlessness, that your—your + health might improve. He thinks that the present crisis would be”—she + hesitated—“would give you a tremendous opportunity. Your trade + interests, bound up as they are with Persia, would give any opinion you + might hold a double weight.” Almost unconsciously a touch of warmth crept + into her words. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Fraide talked very seriously about the beginning of your career. He + said that if only the spirit of your first days could come back—” + Her tone grew quicker, as though she feared ridicule in Loder's silence. + “He asked me to use my influence. I know that I have little—none, + perhaps—but I couldn't tell him that, and so—so I promised.” + </p> + <p> + “And have kept the promise?” Loder spoke at random. Her manner and her + words had both affected him. There was a sensation of unreality in his + brain. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. “I always want to do—what I can.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke a sudden realization of the effort she was making struck upon + him, and with it his scorn of Chilcote rose in renewed force. + </p> + <p> + “My intention—” he began, turning to her. Then the futility of any + declaration silenced him. “I shall think over what you say,” he added, + after a minute's wait. “I suppose I can't say more than that.” + </p> + <p> + Their eyes met and she smiled a little. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe I expected as much,” she said. “I think I'll go now. You + have been wonderfully patient.” Again she smiled slightly, at the same + time extending her hand. The gesture was quite friendly, but in Loder's + eyes it held relief as well as friendliness; and when their hands met he + noticed that her fingers barely brushed his. + </p> + <p> + He picked up her cloak and carried it across the room. As he held the door + open, he laid it quietly across her arm. + </p> + <p> + “I'll think over what you've said,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + Again she glanced at him as if suspecting sarcasm then, partly reassured, + she paused. “You will always despise your opportunities, and I suppose I + shall always envy them,” she said. “That's the way with men and women. + Good-night!” With another faint smile she passed out into the corridor. + </p> + <p> + Loder waited until he heard the outer door close, then he crossed the room + thoughtfully and dropped into the chair that she had vacated. He sat for a + time looking at the hand her fingers had touched; then he lifted his head + with a characteristic movement. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” he said, aloud, “how cordially she detests tests him!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX + </h2> + <p> + Loder slept soundly and dreamlessly in Chilcote's canopied bed. To him the + big room with its severe magnificence suggested nothing of the gloom and + solitude that it held in its owner's eyes. The ponderous furniture, the + high ceiling, the heavy curtains, unchanged since the days of Chilcote's + grandfather, all hinted at a far-reaching ownership that stirred him. The + ownership was mythical in his regard, and the possessions a mirage, but + they filled the day. And, surely, sufficient for the day— + </p> + <p> + That was his frame of mind as he opened his eyes on the following morning, + and lay appreciative of his comfort, of the surrounding space, even of the + light that filtered through the curtain chinks, suggestive of a world + recreated. With day, all things seem possible to a healthy man. He + stretched his arms luxuriously, delighting in the glossy smoothness of the + sheets. + </p> + <p> + What was it Chilcote had said? Better live for a day than exist for a + lifetime! That was true; and life had begun. At thirty-six he was to know + it for the first time. + </p> + <p> + He smiled, but without irony. Man is at his best at thirty-six, he mused. + He has retained his enthusiasms and shed his exuberances; he has learned + what to pick up and what to pass by; he no longer imagines that to drain a + cup one must taste the dregs. He closed his eyes and stretched again, not + his arms only, but his whole body. The pleasure of his mental state + insisted on a physical expression. Then, sitting up in bed, he pressed the + electric bell. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote's new valet responded. + </p> + <p> + “Pull those curtains, Renwick!” he said. “What's the time?” He had passed + the ordeal of Renwick's eyes the night before. + </p> + <p> + The man was slow, even a little stupid. He drew back the curtains + carefully, then looked at the small clock on the dressing-table. “Eight + o'clock, sir. I didn't expect the bell so early, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Loder felt reproved, and a pause followed. + </p> + <p> + “May I bring your cup of tea, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Not just yet. I'll have a bath first.” + </p> + <p> + Renwick showed ponderous uncertainty. “Warm, sir?” he hazarded. + </p> + <p> + “No. Cold.” + </p> + <p> + Still perplexed, the man left the room. + </p> + <p> + Loder smiled to himself. The chances of discovery in that quarter were not + large. He was inclined to think that Chilcote had even overstepped + necessity in the matter of his valet's dullness. + </p> + <p> + He breakfasted alone, following Chilcote's habit, and after breakfast + found his way to the study. + </p> + <p> + As he entered, Greening rose with the same conciliatory haste that he had + shown the night before. + </p> + <p> + Loder nodded to him. “Early at work?” he said, pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + The little man showed instant, almost ridiculous relief. “Good-morning, + sir,” he said; “you too are early. I rather feared your nerves troubled + you after I left last night, for I found your letters still unopened this + morning. But I am glad to see you look so well.” + </p> + <p> + Loder promptly turned his back to the light. “Oh, last night's letters!” + he said. “To tell you the truth, Greening, my wife”—his hesitation + was very slight—“my wife looked me up after you left, and we + gossiped. I clean forgot the post.” He smiled in an explanatory way as he + moved to the desk and picked up the letters. + </p> + <p> + With Greening's eyes upon him, there was no time for scruples. With very + creditable coolness he began opening the envelopes one by one. The letters + were unimportant, and he passed them one after another to the secretary, + experiencing a slight thrill of authority as each left his hand. Again the + fact that power is visible in little things came to his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Give me my engagement-book, Greening,” he said, when the letters had been + disposed of. + </p> + <p> + The book that Greening handed him was neat in shape and bound, like + Chilcote's cigarette-case, in lizard-skin. + </p> + <p> + As Loder took it, the gold monogram “J.C.” winked at him in the bright + morning light. The incident moved his sense of humor. He and the book were + cooperators in the fraud, it seemed. He felt an inclination to wink back. + Nevertheless, he opened it with proper gravity and skimmed the pages. + </p> + <p> + The page devoted to the day was almost full. On every other line were + jottings in Chilcote's irregular hand, and twice among the entries + appeared a prominent cross in blue pencilling. Loder's interest quickened + as his eye caught the mark. It had been agreed between them that only + engagements essential to Chilcote's public life need be carried through + during his absence, and these, to save confusion, were to be crossed in + blue pencil. The rest, for the most part social claims, were to be left to + circumstance and Loder's inclination, Chilcote's erratic memory always + accounting for the breaking of trivial promises. + </p> + <p> + But Loder in his new energy was anxious for obligations; the desire for + fresh and greater tests grew with indulgence. He scanned the two lines + with eagerness. The first was an interview with Cresham, one of Chilcote's + supporters in Wark; the other an engagement to lunch with Fraide. At the + idea of the former his interest quickened, but at thought of the latter it + quailed momentarily. Had the entry been a royal command it would have + affected him infinitely less. For a space his assurance faltered; then, by + coincidence, the recollection of Eve and Eve's words of last night came + back to him, and his mind was filled with a new sensation. + </p> + <p> + Because of Chilcote, he was despised by Chilcote's wife! There was no + denying that in all the pleasant excitement of the adventure that + knowledge had rankled. It came to him now linked with remembrance of the + slight, reluctant touch of her fingers, the faintly evasive dislike + underlying her glance. It was a trivial thing, but it touched his pride as + a man. That was how he put it to himself. It wasn't that he valued this + woman's opinion—any woman's opinion; it was merely that it touched + his pride. He turned again to the window and gazed out, the engagement + book still between his hands. What if he compelled her respect? What if by + his own personality cloaked under Chilcote's identity he forced her to + admit his capability? It was a matter of pride, after all—scarcely + even of pride; self-respect was a better word. + </p> + <p> + Satisfied by his own reasoning, he turned back into the room. + </p> + <p> + “See to those letters, Greening,” he said. “And for the rest of the + morning's work you might go on with your Khorasan notes. I believe we'll + all want every inch of knowledge we can get in that quarter before we're + much older. I'll see you again later.” With a reassuring nod he crossed + the room and passed through the door. + </p> + <p> + He lunched with Fraide at his club, and afterwards walked with him to + Westminster. The walk and lunch were both memorable. In that hour he + learned many things that had been sealed to him before. He tasted his + first draught of real elation, his first drop of real discomfiture. He saw + for the first time how a great man may condescend—how + unostentatiously, how fully, how delightfully. He felt what tact and + kindness perfectly combined may accomplish, and he burned inwardly with a + sense of duplicity that crushed and elated him alternately. He was John + Loder, friendless, penniless, with no present and no future, yet he walked + down Whitehall in the full light of day with one of the greatest statesmen + England has known. + </p> + <p> + Some strangers were being shown over the Terrace when he and Fraide + reached the House, and, noticing the open door, the old man paused. + </p> + <p> + “I never refuse fresh air,” he said. “Shall we take another breath of it + before settling down?” He took Loder's arm and drew him forward. As they + passed through the door-way the pressure of his fingers tightened. “I + shall reckon to-day among my pleasantest memories, Chilcote,” he said, + gravely. “I can't explain the feeling, but I seem to have touched Eve's + husband—the real you, more closely this morning than I ever did + before. It has been a genuine happiness.” He looked up with the eyes that, + through all his years of action and responsibility, had remained so + bright. + </p> + <p> + But Loder paled suddenly, and his glance turned to the river-wide, + mysterious, secret. Unconsciously Fraide had stripped the illusion. It was + not John Loder who walked here; it was Chilcote—Chilcote with his + position, his constituency—his wife. He half extricated his arm, but + Fraide held it. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “Don't draw away from me. You have always been too ready to + do that. It is not often I have a pleasant truth to tell. I won't be + deprived of the enjoyment.” + </p> + <p> + “Can the truth ever be pleasant, sir?” Involuntarily Loder echoed + Chilcote. + </p> + <p> + Fraide looked up. He was half a head shorter than his companion, though + his dignity concealed the fact. “Chilcote,” he said, seriously, “give up + cynicism! It is the trade-mark of failure, and I do not like it in my + friends.” + </p> + <p> + Loder said nothing. The quiet insight of the reproof, its mitigating + kindness, touched him sharply. In that moment he saw the rails down which + he had sent his little car of existence spinning, and the sight daunted + him. The track was steeper, the gauge narrower, than he had guessed; there + were curves and sidings upon which he had not reckoned. He turned his head + and met Fraide's glance. + </p> + <p> + “Don't count too much on me, sir,” he said, slowly. “I might disappoint + you again.” His voice broke off on the last word, for the sound of other + voices and of laughter came to them across the Terrace as a group of two + women and three men passed through the open door. At a glance he realized + that the slighter of the two women was Eve. + </p> + <p> + Seeing them, she disengaged herself from her party and came quickly + forward. He saw her cheeks flush and her eyes brighten pleasantly as they + rested on his companion; but he noticed also that after her first cursory + glance she avoided his own direction. + </p> + <p> + As she came towards them, Fraide drew away his hand in readiness to greet + her. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes my godchild!” he said. “I often wish, Chilcote, that I could + do away with the prefix.” He added the last words in an undertone as he + reached them; then he responded warmly to her smile. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he said. “Turning the Terrace into the Garden of Eden in January! + We cannot allow this.” + </p> + <p> + Eve laughed. “Blame Lady Sarah!” she said. “We met at lunch, and she + carried me off. Needless to say I hadn't to ask where.” + </p> + <p> + They both laughed, and Loder joined, a little uncertainly. He had yet to + learn that the devotion of Fraide and his wife was a long-standing jest in + their particular set. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of his tardy laugh Eve turned to him. “I hope I didn't rob + you of all sleep last night,” she said. “I caught him in his den,” she + explained, turning to Fraide, “and invaded it most courageously. I believe + we talked till two.” + </p> + <p> + Again Loder noticed bow quickly she looked from him to Fraide. The + knowledge roused his self-assertion. + </p> + <p> + “I had an excellent night,” he said. “Do I look as if I hadn't slept?” + </p> + <p> + Somewhat slowly and reluctantly Eve looked back. “No,” she said, + truthfully, and with a faint surprise that to Loder seemed the first + genuine emotion she had shown regarding him. “No, I don't think I ever saw + you look so well.” She was quite unconscious and very charming as she made + the admission. It struck Loder that her coloring of hair and eyes gained + by daylight—were brightened and vivified by their setting of sombre + river and sombre stone. + </p> + <p> + Fraide smiled at her affectionately; then looked at Loder. “Chilcote has + got anew lease of nerves, Eve,” he said, quietly. “And I—believe—I + have got a new henchman. But I see my wife beckoning to me. I must have a + word with her before she flits away. May I be excused?” He made a + courteous gesture of apology; then smiled at Eve. + </p> + <p> + She looked after him as he moved away. “I sometimes wonder what I should + do if anything were to happen to the Fraides,” she said, a little + wistfully. Then almost at once she laughed, as if regretting her + impulsiveness. “You heard what he said,” she went on, in a different + voice. “Am I really to congratulate you?” + </p> + <p> + The change of tone stung Loder unaccountably. “Will you always disbelieve + in me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Without answering, she walked slowly across the deserted Terrace and, + pausing by the parapet, laid her hand on the stonework. Still in silence + she looked out across the river. + </p> + <p> + Loder had followed closely. Again her aloofness seemed a challenge. “Will + you always disbelieve in me?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + At last she looked up at him, slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever given me cause to believe!” she asked, in a quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + To this truth he found no answer, though the subdued incredulity nettled + him afresh. + </p> + <p> + Prompted to a further effort, he spoke again. “Patience is necessary with + every person and every circumstance,” he said. “We've all got to wait and + see.” + </p> + <p> + She did not lower her gaze as he spoke; and there seemed to him something + disconcerting in the clear, candid blue of her eyes. With a sudden dread + of her next words, he moved forward and laid his hand beside hers on the + parapet. + </p> + <p> + “Patience is needed for every one,” he repeated, quickly. “Sometimes a man + is like a bit of wreckage; he drifts till some force stronger than himself + gets in his way and stops him.” He looked again at her face. He scarcely + knew what he was saying; he only felt that he was a man in an egregiously + false position, trying stupidly to justify himself. “Don't you believe + that flotsam can sometimes be washed ashore?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + High above them Big Ben chimed the hour. + </p> + <p> + Eve raised her head. It almost seemed to him that he could see her answer + trembling on her lips; then the voice of Lady Sarah Fraide came cheerfully + from behind them. + </p> + <p> + “Eve!” she called. “Eve! We must fly. It's absolutely three o'clock!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X + </h2> + <p> + In the days that followed Fraide's marked adoption of him Loder behaved + with a discretion that spoke well for his qualities. Many a man placed in + the same responsible, and yet strangely irresponsible, position might have + been excused if, for the time at least, he gave himself a loose rein. But + Loder kept free of the temptation. + </p> + <p> + Like all other experiments, his showed unlooked-for features when put to a + working test. Its expected difficulties smoothed themselves away, while + others, scarcely anticipated, came into prominence. Most notable of all, + the physical likeness between himself and Chilcote, the bedrock of the + whole scheme, which had been counted upon to offer most danger, worked + without a hitch. He stood literally amazed before the sweeping credulity + that met him on every hand. Men who had known Chilcote from his youth, + servants who had been in his employment for years, joined issue in the + unquestioning acceptance. At times the ease of the deception bewildered + him; there were moments when he realized that, should circumstances force + him to a declaration of the truth, he would not be believed. Human nature + prefers its own eyesight to the testimony of any man. + </p> + <p> + But in face of this astonishing success he steered a steady course. In the + first exhilaration of Fraide's favor, in the first egotistical wish to + break down Eve's scepticism, he might possibly have plunged into the + vortex of action, let it be in what direction it might; but fortunately + for himself, for Chilcote, and for their scheme, he was liable to + strenuous second thoughts—those wise and necessary curbs that go + further to the steadying of the universe than the universe guesses. + Sitting in the quiet of the House, on the same day that he had spoken with + Eve on the Terrace, he had weighed possibilities slowly and cautiously. + Impressed to the full by the atmosphere of the place that in his eyes + could never lack character, however dull its momentary business, however + prosy the voice that filled it, he had sifted impulse from expedience, as + only a man who has lived within himself can sift and distinguish. And at + the close of that first day his programme bad been formed. There must be + no rush, no headlong plunge, he had decided; things must work round. It + was his first expedition into the new country, and it lay with fate to say + whether it would be his last. + </p> + <p> + He had been leaning back in his seat, his eyes on the ministers opposite, + his arms folded in imitation of Chilcote's most natural attitude, when + this final speculation had come to him; and as it came his lips had + tightened for a moment and his face become hard and cold. It is an + unpleasant thing when a man first unconsciously reckons on the weakness of + another, and the look that expresses the idea is not good to see. He had + stirred uneasily; then his lips had closed again. He was tenacious by + nature, and by nature intolerant of weakness. At the first suggestion of + reckoning upon Chilcote's lapses, his mind had drawn back in disgust; but + as the thought came again the disgust had lessened. + </p> + <p> + In a week—two weeks, perhaps—Chilcote would reclaim his place. + Then would begin the routine of the affair. Chilcote, fresh from + indulgence and freedom, would find his obligations a thousand times more + irksome than before; he would struggle for a time; then— + </p> + <p> + A shadowy smile had touched Loder's lips as the idea formed itself. + </p> + <p> + Then would come the inevitable recall; then in earnest he might venture to + put his hand to the plough. He never indulged in day-dreams, but something + in the nature of a vision had flashed over his mind in that instant. He + had seen himself standing in that same building, seen the rows of faces + first bored, then hesitatingly transformed under his personal domination, + under the one great power he knew himself to possess—the power of + eloquence. The strength of the suggestion had been almost painful. Men who + have attained self-repression are occasionally open to a perilous onrush + of feeling. Believing that they know themselves, they walk boldly forward + towards the high-road and the pitfall alike. + </p> + <p> + These had been Loder's disconnected ideas and speculations on the first + day of his new life. At four o'clock on the ninth day he was pacing with + quiet confidence up and down Chilcote's study, his mind pleasantly busy + and his cigar comfortably alight, when he paused in, his walk and frowned, + interrupted by the entrance of a servant. + </p> + <p> + The man came softly into the room, drew a small table towards the fire, + and proceeded to lay an extremely fine and unserviceable-looking cloth. + </p> + <p> + Loder watched him in silence. He had grown to find silence a very useful + commodity. To wait and let things develop was the attitude he oftenest + assumed. But on this occasion he was perplexed. He had not rung for tea, + and in any case a cup on a salver satisfied his wants. He looked + critically at the fragile cloth. + </p> + <p> + Presently the servant departed, and solemnly reentered carrying a silver + tray, with cups, a teapot, and cakes. Having adjusted them to his + satisfaction, he turned to Loder. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Chilcote will be with you in five minutes, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He waited for some response, but Loder gave none. Again he had found the + advantages of silence, but this time it was silence of a compulsory kind. + He had nothing to say. + </p> + <p> + The man, finding him irresponsive, retired; and, left to himself, Loder + stared at the array of feminine trifles; then, turning abruptly, he moved + to the centre of the room. + </p> + <p> + Since the day they had talked on the Terrace, he had only seen Eve thrice, + and always in the presence e others. Since the night of his first coming, + she has not invaded his domain, and he wondered what this new departure + might mean. + </p> + <p> + His thought of her had been less vivid in the last few days; for, though + still using steady discretion, he had been drawn gradually nearer the + fascinating whirlpool of new interests and new work. Shut his eyes as he + might, there was no denying that this moment, so personally vital to him, + was politically vital to the whole country; and that by a curious + coincidence Chilcote's position well-nigh forced him to take an active + interest in the situation. Again and again the suggestion had arisen that—should + the smouldering fire in Persia break into a flame, Chilcote's commercial + interests would facilitate, would practically compel, his standing in in + the campaign against the government. + </p> + <p> + The little incident of the tea-table, recalling the social side of his + obligations, had aroused the realization of greater things. As he stood + meditatively in the middle of the room he saw suddenly how absorbed he had + become in these greater things. How, in the swing of congenial interests, + he had been borne insensibly forward—his capacities expanding, his + intelligence asserting itself. He had so undeniably found his sphere that + the idea of usurpation had receded gently as by natural laws, until his + own personality had begun to color the day's work. + </p> + <p> + As this knowledge came, he wondered quickly if it held a solution of the + present little comedy; if Eve had seen what others, he knew, had observed—that + Chilcote was showing a grasp of things that he had not exhibited for + years. Then, as a sound of skirts came softly down the corridor, he + squared his shoulders with his habitual abrupt gesture and threw his cigar + into the fire. + </p> + <p> + Eve entered the room much as she had done on her former visit, but with + one difference. In passing Loder she quietly held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + He took it as quietly. “Why am I so honored?” he said. + </p> + <p> + She laughed a little and looked across at the fire. “How like a man! You + always want to begin with reasons. Let's have tea first and explanations + after.” She moved forward towards the table, and he followed. As he did + so, it struck him that her dress seemed in peculiar harmony with the day + and the room, though beyond that he could not follow its details. As she + paused beside the table he drew forward a chair with a faint touch of + awkwardness. + </p> + <p> + She thanked him and sat down. + </p> + <p> + He watched her in silence as she poured out the tea, and the thought + crossed his mind that it was incredibly long since he had seen a woman + preside over a meal. The deftness of her fingers filled him with an + unfamiliar, half-inquisitive wonder. So interesting was the sensation + that, when she held his cup towards him, he didn't immediately see it. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you want any?” She smiled a little. + </p> + <p> + He started, embarrassed by his own tardiness. “I'm afraid I'm dull,” he + said. “I've been so—” + </p> + <p> + “So keen a worker in the last week?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment he felt relieved. Then, as a fresh silence fell, his sense of + awkwardness returned. He sipped his tea and ate a biscuit. He found + himself wishing, for almost the first time, for some of the small society + talk that came so pleasantly to other men. He felt that the position was + ridiculous. He glanced at Eve's averted head, and laid his empty cup upon + the table. + </p> + <p> + Almost at once she turned, and their eyes met. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, “do you guess at all why I wanted to have tea with you?” + </p> + <p> + He looked down at her. “No,” he said, honestly and without embellishment. + </p> + <p> + The curtness of the answer might have displeased another woman. Eve seemed + to take no offence. + </p> + <p> + “I had a talk with the Fraides to-day,” she said “A long talk. Mr. Fraide + said great things of you—things I wouldn't have believed from + anybody but Mr. Fraide.” She altered her position and looked from Loder's + face back into the fire. + </p> + <p> + He took a step forward. “What things?” he said. He was almost ashamed of + the sudden, inordinate satisfaction that welled up at her words. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I mustn't tell you!” She laughed a little. “But you have surprised + him.” She paused, sipped her tea, then looked up again with a change of + expression. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, more seriously, “there is one point that sticks a + little. Will this great change last?” Her voice was direct and even—wonderfully + direct for a woman, Loder thought. It came to him with a certain force + that beneath her remarkable charm might possibly lie a remarkable + character. It was not a possibility that had occurred to him before, and + it caused him to look at her a second time. In the new light he saw her + beauty differently, and it interested him differently. Heretofore he had + been inclined to class women under three heads—idols, amusements, or + encumbrances; now it crossed his mind that a woman might possibly fill + another place—the place of a companion. + </p> + <p> + “You are very sceptical,” he said, still looking down at her. + </p> + <p> + She did not return his glance. “I think I have been made sceptical,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + As she spoke the image of Chilcote shot through his mind. Chilcote, + irritable, vicious, unstable, and a quick compassion for this woman so + inevitably shackled to him followed it. + </p> + <p> + Eve, unconscious of what was passing in his mind, went on with her + subject. + </p> + <p> + “When we were married,” she said, gently, “I had such a great interest in + things, such a great belief in life. I had lived in politics, and I was + marrying one of the coming men—everybody said you were one of the + coming men—I scarcely felt there was anything left to ask for. You + didn't make very ardent love,” she smiled, “but I think I had forgotten + about love. I wanted nothing so much as to be like Lady Sarah—married + to a great man.” She paused, then went on more hurriedly: “For a while + things went right; then slowly things, went wrong. You got your—your + nerves.” + </p> + <p> + Loder changed his position with something of abruptness. + </p> + <p> + She misconstrued the action. + </p> + <p> + “Please don't think I want to be disagreeable,” she said, hastily. “I + don't. I'm only trying to make you understand why—why I lost heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I know,” Loder's voice broke in involuntarily. “Things got worse—then + still worse. You found interference useless. At last you ceased to have a + husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Until a week ago.” She glanced up quickly. Absorbed in her own feelings, + she had seen nothing extraordinary in his words. + </p> + <p> + But at hers, Loder changed color. + </p> + <p> + “It's the most incredible thing in the world,” she said. “It's quite + incredible, and yet I can't deny it. Against all my reason, all my + experience, all my inclination I seem to feel in the last week something + of what I felt at first.” She stopped with an embarrassed laugh. “It seems + that, as if by magic, life has been picked up where I dropped it six years + ago.” Again she stopped and laughed. + </p> + <p> + Loder was keenly uncomfortable, but he could think of nothing to say. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed to begin that night I dined with the Fraides,” she went on. + “Mr. Fraide talked so wisely and so kindly about many things. He recalled + all we had hoped for in you; and—and he blamed me a little.” She + paused and laid her cup aside. “He said that when people have made what + they call their last effort, they should always make just one effort more. + He promised that if I could once persuade you to take an interest in your + work, he would do the rest. He said all that, and a thousand other kinder + things—and I sat and listened. But all the time I thought of nothing + but their uselessness. Before I left I promised to do my best—but my + thought was still the same. It was stronger than ever when I forced myself + to come up here—” She paused again, and glanced at Loder's averted + head. “But I came, and then—as if by conquering myself I had + compelled a reward, you seemed—you somehow seemed different. It + sounds ridiculous, I know.” Her voice was half amused, half deprecating. + “It wasn't a difference in your face, though I knew directly that you were + free from—nerves.” Again she hesitated over the word. “It was a + difference in yourself, in the things you said, more than in the way you + said them.” Once more she paused and laughed a little. + </p> + <p> + Loder's discomfort grew. + </p> + <p> + “But it didn't affect me then.” She spoke more slowly. “I wouldn't admit + it then. And the next day when we talked on the Terrace I still refused to + admit it—though I felt it more strongly than before. But I have + watched you since that day, and I know there is a change. Mr. Fraide feels + the same, and he is never mistaken. I know it's only nine or ten days, but + I've hardly seen you in the same mood for nine or ten hours in the last + three years.” She stopped, and the silence was expressive. It seemed to + plead for confirmation of her instinct. + </p> + <p> + Still Loder could find no response. + </p> + <p> + After waiting for a moment, she leaned forward in her chair and looked up + at him. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, “is it going to last? That's what I came to ask. I don't + want to believe till I'm sure; I don't want to risk a new disappointment.” + Loder felt the earnestness of her gaze, though he avoided meeting it. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't have said this to you a week ago, but to-day I can. I don't + pretend to explain why—the feeling is too inexplicable. I only know + that I can say it now, and that I couldn't a week ago. Will you understand—and + answer?” + </p> + <p> + Still Loder remained mute. His position was horribly incongruous. What + could he say? What dared he say? + </p> + <p> + Confused by his silence, Eve rose. + </p> + <p> + “If it's only a phase, don't try to hide it,” she said. “But if it's going + to last—if by any possibility it's going to last—” She + hesitated and looked up. + </p> + <p> + She was quite close to him. He would have been less than man had he been + unconscious of the subtle contact of her glance, the nearness of her + presence—and no one had ever hinted that manhood was lacking in him. + It was a moment of temptation. His own energy, his own intentions, seemed + so near; Chilcote and Chilcote's claims so distant and unreal. After all, + his life, his ambitions, his determinations, were his own. He lifted his + eyes and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “You want me to tell you that I will go on?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes brightened; she took a step forward. “Yes,” she said, “I want it + more than anything in the world.” + </p> + <p> + There was a wait. The declaration that would satisfy her came to Loder's + lips, but he delayed it. The delay, was fateful. While he stood silent the + door opened and the servant who had brought in the tea reappeared. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the room and handed Loder a telegram. “Any answer, sir?” he + said. + </p> + <p> + Eve moved back to her chair. There was a flush on her cheeks and her eyes + were still alertly bright. + </p> + <p> + Loder tore the telegram open, read it, then threw it Into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “No answer!” he said, laconically. + </p> + <p> + At the brusqueness of his voice, Eve looked up. “Disagreeable news?” she + said, as the servant departed. + </p> + <p> + He didn't look at her. He was watching the telegram withering in the + centre of the fire. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said at last, in a strained voice. “No. Only news that I—that + I had forgotten to expect.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI + </h2> + <p> + There was a silence—an uneasy break—after Loder spoke. The + episode of the telegram was, to all appearances, ordinary enough, calling + forth Eve's question and his own reply as a natural sequence; yet in the + pause that followed it each was conscious of a jar, each was aware that in + some subtle way the thread of sympathy had been dropped, though to one the + cause was inexplicable and to the other only too plain. + </p> + <p> + Loder watched the ghost of his message grow whiter and thinner, then + dissolve into airy fragments and flutter up the chimney. As the last + morsel wavered out of sight, he turned and looked at his companion. + </p> + <p> + “You almost made me commit myself,” he said. In the desire to hide his + feelings his tone was short. + </p> + <p> + Eve returned his glance with a quiet regard, but he scarcely saw it. He + had a stupefied sense of disaster; a feeling of bitter self-commiseration + that for the moment outweighed all other considerations. Almost at the + moment of justification the good of life had crumbled in his fingers, the + soil given beneath his feet, and with an absence of logic, a lack of + justice unusual in him, he let resentment against Chilcote sweep suddenly + over his mind. + </p> + <p> + Eve, still watching him, saw the darkening of his expression, and with a + quiet movement rose from her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Sarah has a theatre-party to-night, and I am dining with her,” she + said. “It is an early dinner, so I must think about dressing. I'm sorry + you think I tried to draw you into anything. I must have explained myself + badly.” She laughed a little, to cover the slight discomfiture that her + tone betrayed, and as she laughed she moved across the room towards the + door. + </p> + <p> + Loder, engrossed in the check to his own schemes, incensed at the + suddenness of Chilcote's recall, and still more incensed at his own folly + in not having anticipated it, was oblivious for the moment of both her + movement and her words. Then, quite abruptly, they obtruded themselves + upon him, breaking through his egotism with something of the sharpness of + pain following a blow. Turning quickly from the fireplace, he faced the + shadowy room across which she had passed, but simultaneously with his + turning she gained the door. + </p> + <p> + The knowledge that she was gone struck him with a sense of double loss. + “Wait!” he called, suddenly moving forward. But almost at once he paused, + chilled by the solitude of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Eve!” he said, using her name unconsciously for the first time. + </p> + <p> + But the corridor, as well as the room, was empty; he was too late. He + stood irresolute; then he laughed shortly, turned, and passed back towards + the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + The blow had fallen, the inevitable come to pass, and nothing remained but + to take the fact with as good a grace as possible. Chilcote's telegram had + summoned him to Clifford's Inn at seven o'clock, and it was now well on + towards six. He pulled out his watch—Chilcote's watch he realized, + with a touch of grim humor as he stooped to examine the dial by the light + of the fire; then, as if the humor had verged to another feeling, he stood + straight again and felt for the electric button in the wall. His fingers + touched it, and simultaneously the room was lighted. + </p> + <p> + The abrupt alteration from shadow to light came almost as a shock. The + feminine arrangement of the tea-table seemed incongruous beside the sober + books and the desk laden with papers—incongruous as his own presence + in the place. The thought was unpleasant, and he turned aside as if to + avoid it; but at the movement his eyes fell on Chilcote's cigarette-box + with its gleaming monogram, and the whimsical suggestion of his first + morning rose again. The idea that the inanimate objects in the room knew + him for what he was—recognized the interloper where human eyes saw + the rightful possessor—returned to his mind. Through all his disgust + and chagrin a smile forced itself to his lips, and, crossing the room for + the second time, he passed into Chilcote's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + There the massive furniture and sombre atmosphere fitted better with his + mood than the energy and action which the study always suggested. Walking + directly to the great bed, he sat on its side and for several minutes + stared straight in front of him, apparently seeing nothing; then at last + the apathy passed from him, as his previous anger against Chilcote had + passed. He stood up slowly, drawing his long limbs together, and recrossed + the room, passing along the corridor and through the door communicating + with the rest of the house. Five minutes later he was in the open air and + walking steadily eastward, his hat drawn forward and his overcoat buttoned + up. + </p> + <p> + As he traversed the streets he allowed himself no thought, Once, as he + waited in Trafalgar Square to find a passage between the vehicles, the + remembrance of Chilcote's voice coming out of the fog on their first night + made itself prominent, but he rejected it quickly, guarding himself from + even an involuntary glance at the place of their meeting. The Strand, with + its unceasing life, came to him as something almost unfamiliar. Since his + identification with the new life no business had drawn him east of Charing + Cross, and his first sight of the narrower stream of traffic struck him as + garish and unpleasant. As the impression came he accelerated his steps, + moved by the wish to make regret and retrospection alike impossible by a + contact with actual forces. + </p> + <p> + Still walking hastily, he entered Clifford's Inn, but there almost + unconsciously his feet halted. There was something in the quiet + immutability of the place that sobered energy, both mental and physical. A + sense of changelessness—the changelessness of inanimate things, that + rises in such solemn contrast to the variableness of mere human nature, + which a new environment, a new outlook, sometimes even a new presence, has + power to upheave and remould. He paused; then with slower and steadier + steps crossed the little court and mounted the familiar stairs of his own + house. + </p> + <p> + As he turned the handle of his own door some one stirred inside the + sitting-room. Still under the influence of the stones and trees that he + had just left, he moved directly towards the sound, and, without waiting + for permission, entered the room. After the darkness of the passage it + seemed well alight, for, besides the lamp with its green shade, a large + fire burned in the grate and helped to dispel the shadows. + </p> + <p> + As he entered the room Chilcote rose and came forward, his figure thrown + into strong relief by the double light. He was dressed in a shabby tweed + suit; his face looked pale and set with a slightly nervous tension, but + besides the look and a certain added restlessness of glance there was no + visible change. Reaching Loder, he held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said, quickly. + </p> + <p> + The other looked at him questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “Well? Well? How has it gone?” + </p> + <p> + “The scheme? Oh, excellently!” Loder's manner was abrupt. Turning from the + restless curiosity in Chilcote's eyes, he moved a little way across the + room and began to draw off his coat. Then, as if struck by the incivility + of the action, he looked back again. “The scheme has gone + extraordinarily,” he said. “I could almost say absurdly. There are some + things, Chilcote, that fairly bowl a man over.” + </p> + <p> + A great relief tinged Chilcote's face. “Good!” he exclaimed. “Tell me all + about it.” + </p> + <p> + But Loder was reticent. The moment was not propitious. It was as if a + hungry man had dreamed a great banquet and had awakened to his starvation. + He was chary of imparting his visions. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing to tell,” he said, shortly. “All that you'll want to know + is here in black and white. I don't think you'll find I have slipped + anything; it's a clear business record.” From an inner pocket he drew out + a bulky note-book, and, recrossing the room, laid it open on the table. It + was a correct, even a minute, record of every action that had been + accomplished in Chilcote's name. “I don't think you'll find any loose + ends,” he said, as he turned back the pages. “I had you and your position + in my mind all through.” He paused and glanced up from the book. “You have + a position that absolutely insists upon attention,” he added, in a + different voice. + </p> + <p> + At the new tone Chilcote looked up as well. “No moral lectures!” he said, + with a nervous laugh. “I was anxious to know if you had pulled it off—and + you have reassured me. That's enough. I was in a funk this afternoon to + know how things were going-one of those sudden, unreasonable funks. But + now that I see you”—he cut himself short and laughed once more “now + that I see you, I'm hanged if I don't want to—to prolong your + engagement.” + </p> + <p> + Loder glanced at him, then glanced away. He felt a quick shame at the + eagerness that rose at the words—a surprised contempt at his own + readiness to anticipate the man's weakness. But almost as speedily as he + had turned away he looked back again. + </p> + <p> + “Tush, man!” he said, with his old, intolerant manner. “You're dreaming. + You've had your holiday and school's begun again. You must remember you + are dining with the Charringtons to-night. Young Charrington's coming of + age—quite a big business. Come along! I want my clothes.” He + laughed, and, moving closer to Chilcote, slapped him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote started; then, suddenly becoming imbued with the other's manner, + he echoed the laugh. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” he said, “you're right! You're quite right! A man must keep his + feet in their own groove.” Raising his hand, he began to fumble with his + tie. + </p> + <p> + But Loder kept the same position. “You'll find the check-book in its usual + drawer,” he said. “I've made one entry of a hundred pounds—pay for + the first week. The rest can stand over until—” He paused abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote shifted his position. “Don't talk about that. It upsets me to + anticipate. I can make out a check to-morrow payable to John Loder.” + </p> + <p> + “No. That can wait. The name of Loder is better out of the book. We can't + be too careful.” Loder spoke with unusual impetuosity. Already a slight, + unreasonable jealousy was coloring his thoughts. Already he grudged the + idea of Chilcote with his unstable glance and restless fingers opening the + drawers and sorting the papers that for one stupendous fortnight had been + his without question. Turning aside, he changed the subject brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “Come into the bedroom,” he said. “It's half-past seven if it's a minute, + and the Charringtons' show is at nine.” Without waiting for a reply, he + walked across the room and held the door open. + </p> + <p> + There was no silence while they exchanged clothes. Loder talked + continuously, sometimes in short, curt sentences, sometimes with ironic + touches of humor; he talked until Chilcote, strangely affected by contact + with another personality after his weeks of solitude, fell under his + influence—his excitement rising, his imagination stirring at the + novelty of change. At last, garbed once more in the clothes of his own + world, he passed from the bedroom back into the sitting-room, and there + halted, waiting for his companion. + </p> + <p> + Almost directly Loder followed. He came into the room quietly, and, moving + at once to the table, picked up the note-book. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not going to preach,” he began, “so you needn't shut me up. But I'll + say just one thing—a thing that will get said. Try and keep your + hold! Remember your responsibilities—and keep your hold!” He spoke + energetically, looking earnestly into Chilcote's eyes. He did not realize + it, but he was pleading for his own career. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote paled a little, as he always did in face of a reality. Then he + extended his hand. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” he said, with a touch of hauteur, “a man can generally + be trusted to look after his own life.” + </p> + <p> + Extricating his hand almost immediately, he turned towards the door and + without a word of farewell passed into the little hall, leaving Loder + alone in the sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII + </h2> + <p> + On the night of Chilcote's return to his own, Loder tasted the lees of + life poignantly for the first time. Before their curious compact had been + entered upon he had been, if not content, at least apathetic; but with + action the apathy had been dispersed, never again to regain its old + position. + </p> + <p> + He realized with bitter certainty that his was no real home-coming. On + entering Chilcote's house he had experienced none of the unfamiliarity, + none of the unsettled awkwardness, that assailed him now. There he had + almost seemed the exile returning after many hardships; here, in the + atmosphere made common by years, he felt an alien. It was illustrative of + the man's character that sentimentalities found no place in his nature. + Sentiments were not lacking, though they lay out of sight, but + sentimentalities he altogether denied. + </p> + <p> + Left alone in the sitting-room after Chilcote's departure, his first + sensation was one of physical discomfort and unfamiliarity. His own + clothes, with their worn looseness, brought no sense of friendliness such + as some men find in an old garment. Lounging, and the clothes that + suggested lounging, had no appeal for him. In his eyes the garb that + implies responsibility was symbolic and even inspiring. + </p> + <p> + And, as with clothes, so with his actual surroundings. Each detail of his + room was familiar, but not one had ever become intimately close. He had + used the place for years, but he had used it as he might use a hotel; and + whatever of his household gods had come with him remained, like himself, + on sufferance. His entrance into Chilcote's surroundings had been + altogether different. Unknown to himself, he had been in the position of a + young artist who, having roughly modelled in clay, is brought into the + studio of a sculptor. To his outward vision everything is new, but his + inner sight leaps to instant understanding. Amid all the strangeness he + recognizes the one essential—the workshop, the atmosphere, the home. + </p> + <p> + On this first night of return Loder comprehended something of his + position; and, comprehending, he faced the problem and fought with it. + </p> + <p> + He had made his bargain and must pay his share. Weighing this, he had + looked about his room with a quiet gaze. Then at last, as if finding the + object really sought for, his eyes had come round to the mantel-piece and + rested on the pipe-rack. The pipes stood precisely as he had left them. He + had looked at them for a long time, then an ironic expression that was + almost a smile had touched his lips, and, crossing the room, he had taken + the oldest and blackest from its place and slowly filled it with tobacco. + </p> + <p> + With the first indrawn breath of smoke his attitude had unbent. Without + conscious determination, he had chosen the one factor capable of easing + his mood. A cigarette is for the trivial moments of life; a cigar for its + fulfilments, its pleasant, comfortable retrospections; but in real + distress—in the solving of question, the fighting of difficulty—a + pipe is man's eternal solace, + </p> + <p> + So he had passed the first night of his return to the actualities of life. + Next day his mind was somewhat settled and outward aid was not so + essential; but though facts faced him more solidly, they were nevertheless + very drab in shade. The necessity for work, that blessed antidote to + ennui, no longer forced him to endeavor. He was no longer penniless; but + the money, he possessed brought with it no desires. When a man has lived + from hand to mouth for years, and suddenly finds himself with a hundred + pounds in his pocket, the result is sometimes curious. He finds with a + vague sense of surprise that he has forgotten how to spend. That + extravagance, like other artificial passions, requires cultivation. + </p> + <p> + This he realized even more fully on the days that followed the night of + his first return; and with it was born a new bitterness. The man who has + friends and no money may find life difficult; but the man who has money + and no friend to rejoice in his fortune or benefit by his generosity is + aloof indeed. With the leaven of incredulity that works in all strong + natures, Loder distrusted the professional beggar—therefore the + charity that bestows easily and promiscuously was denied him; and of other + channels of generosity he was too self-contained to have learned the + secret. + </p> + <p> + When depression falls upon a man of usually even temperament it descends + with a double weight. The mercurial nature has a hundred counterbalancing + devices to rid itself of gloom—a sudden lifting of spirit, a memory + of other moods lived through, other blacknesses dispersed by time; but the + man of level nature has none of these. Depression, when it comes, is + indeed depression; no phase of mind to be superseded by another phase, but + a slackening of all the chords of life. + </p> + <p> + It was through such a depression as this that he labored during three + weeks, while no summons and no hint of remembrance came from Chilcote. His + position was peculiarly difficult. He found no action in the present, and + towards the future he dared not trust himself to look. He had slipped the + old moorings that familiarity had rendered endurable; but having slipped + them, he had found no substitute. Such was his case on the last night of + the three weeks, and such his frame of mind as he crossed Fleet Street + from Clifford's Inn to Middle Temple Lane. + </p> + <p> + It was scarcely seven o'clock, but already the dusk was falling; the + greater press of vehicles had ceased, and the light of the street lamps + gleamed back from the spaces of dry and polished roadway, worn smooth as a + mirror by wheels and hoofs. Something of the solitude of night that sits + so ill on the strenuous city street was making itself felt, though the + throngs of people on the pathway still streamed eastward and westward and + the taverns made a busy trade. + </p> + <p> + Having crossed the roadway, Loder paused for a moment to survey the scene. + But humanity in the abstract made small appeal to him, and his glance + wandered from the passers-by to the buildings massed like clouds against + the dark sky. As his gaze moved slowly from one to the other a clock near + at hand struck seven, and an instant later the chorus was taken up by a + dozen clamorous tongues. Usually he scarcely heard, and never heeded, + these innumerable chimes; but this evening their effect was strange. + Coming out of the darkness, they seemed to possess a personal note, a + human declaration. The impression was fantastic, but it was strong; with a + species of revolt against life and his own personality, he turned slowly + and moved forward in the direction of Ludgate Hill. + </p> + <p> + For a space he continued his course, then, reaching Bouverie Street, he + turned sharply to the right and made his way down the slight incline that + leads to the Embankment. There he paused and drew a long breath. The sense + of space and darkness soothed him. Pulling his cap over his eyes, he + crossed to the river and walked on in the direction of Westminster Bridge. + </p> + <p> + As he walked the great mass, of water by his side looked dense and smooth + as oil with its sweeping width and network of reflected light. On its + farther bank rose the tall buildings, the chimneys, the flaring lights + that suggest another and an alien London; close at hand stretched the + solid stone parapet, giving assurance of protection. + </p> + <p> + All these things he saw with his mental eyes, but with his mental eyes + only, for his physical gaze was fixed ahead where the Houses of Parliament + loomed out of the dusk. From the great building his eyes never wavered + until the Embankment was traversed and Westminster Bridge reached. Then he + paused, resting his arms on the coping of the bridge. + </p> + <p> + In the tense quietude of the darkness the place looked vast and inspiring. + The shadowy Terrace, the silent river, the rows of lighted windows, each + was significant. Slowly and comprehensively his glance passed from one to + the other. He was no sentimentalist and no dreamer; his act was simply the + act of a man whose interests, robbed of their natural outlet, turn + instinctively towards the forms and symbols of the work that is denied + them. His scrutiny was steady—even cold. He was raised to no + exaltation by the vastness of the building, nor was he chilled by any + dwarfing of himself. He looked at it long and thoughtfully; then, again + moving slowly, he turned and retraced his steps. + </p> + <p> + His mind was full as he walked back, still oblivious of the stone parapet + of the Embankment, the bare trees, and the flaring lights of the + advertisements across the water. Turning to the left, he regained Fleet + Street and made for his own habitation with the quiet accuracy that some + men exhibit in moments of absorption. + </p> + <p> + He crossed Clifford's Inn with the same slow, almost listless step; then, + as his own doorway came into view, he stopped. Some one was standing in + its recess. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he wondered if his fancy were playing him a trick; then his + reason sprang to certainty with so fierce a leap that for an instant his + mind recoiled. For we more often stand aghast at the strength of our own + feelings than before the enormity of our neighbor's actions. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Chilcote?” he said, below his breath. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of his voice the other wheeled round. “Hallo!” he said. “I + thought you were the ghost of some old inhabitant. I suppose I am very + unexpected?” + </p> + <p> + Loder took the hand that he extended and pressed the fingers + unconsciously. The sight of this man was like the finding of an oasis at + the point where the desert is sandiest, deadliest, most unbearable. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are—unexpected,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote looked at him, then looked out into the court. “I'm done up,” he + said. “I'm right at the end of the tether.” He laughed as he said it, but + in the dim light of the hall Loder thought his face looked ill and + harassed despite the flush that the excitement of the meeting had brought + to it. Taking his arm, he drew him towards the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “So the rope has run out, eh?” he said, in imitation of the other's tone. + But under the quiet of his manner his own nerves were throbbing with the + peculiar alertness of anticipation; a sudden sense of mastery over life, + that lifted him above surroundings and above persons—a sense of + stature, mental and physical, from which he surveyed the world. He felt as + if fate, in the moment of utter darkness, had given him a sign. + </p> + <p> + As they crossed the hall, Chilcote had drawn away and was already mounting + the stairs. And as Loder followed, it came sharply to his mind that here, + in the slipshod freedom of a door that was always open and stairs that + were innocent of covering, lay his companion's real niche—unrecognized + in outward avowal, but acknowledged by the inward, keener sense that + manifests the individual. + </p> + <p> + In silence they mounted the stairs, but on the first landing Chilcote + paused and looked back, surveying Loder from the superior height of two + steps. + </p> + <p> + “I did very well at first,” he said. “I did very well—I almost + followed your example, for a week or so. I found myself on a sort of + pinnacle—and I clung on. But in the last ten days I've—I've + rather lapsed.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” Loder avoided looking at his face; he kept his eyes fixed + determinately on the spot where his own hand gripped the banister. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” Chilcote repeated. “Oh, the prehistoric tale—weakness + stronger than strength. I'm-I'm sorry to come down on you like this, but + it's the social side that bowls me over. It's the social side I can't + stick.” + </p> + <p> + “The social side? But I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think. I never think; it entails such a constant upsetting of + principles and theories. We did arrange for business only, but one can't + set up barriers. Society pushes itself everywhere nowadays—into + business most of all. I don't want you for theatre-parties or dinners. But + a big reception with a political flavor is different. A man has to be seen + at these things; he needn't say anything or do anything, but it's bad form + if he fails to show up.” + </p> + <p> + Loder raised his head. “You must explain,” he said, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote started slightly at the sudden demand. + </p> + <p> + “I—I suppose I'm rather irrelevant,” he said, quickly. “Fact is, + there's a reception at the Bramfells' to-night. You know Blanche Bramfell—Viscountess + Bramfell, sister to Lillian Astrupp.” His words conveyed nothing to Loder, + but he did not consider that. All explanations were irksome to him and he + invariably chafed to be done with them. + </p> + <p> + “And you've got to put in an appearance—for party reasons?” Loder + broke in. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote showed relief. “Yes. Old Fraide makes rather a point of it—so + does Eve.” He said the last words carelessly; then, as if their sound + recalled something, his expression changed. A touch of satirical amusement + touched his lips and he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-way, Loder,” he said, “my wife was actually tolerant of me for + nine or ten days after my return. I thought your representation was to be + quite impersonal? I'm not jealous,” he laughed. “I'm not jealous, I assure + you; but the burned child shouldn't grow absentminded.” + </p> + <p> + At his tone and his laugh Loder's blood stirred; with a sudden, unexpected + impulse his hand tightened on the banister, and, looking up, he caught + sight of the face above him—his own face, it seemed, alight with + malicious interest. At the sight a strange sensation seized him; his grip + on the banister loosened, and, pushing past Chilcote, he hurriedly mounted + the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Outside his own door the other overtook him. + </p> + <p> + “Loder!” he said. “Loder! I meant no harm. A man must have a laugh + sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + But Loder was facing the door and did not turn round. + </p> + <p> + A sudden fear shook Chilcote. “Loder!” he exclaimed again, “you wouldn't + desert me? I can't go back to-night. I can't go back.” + </p> + <p> + Still Loder remained immovable. + </p> + <p> + Alarmed by his silence, Chilcote stepped closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “Loder! Loder, you won't desert me?” He caught hastily at his arm. + </p> + <p> + With a quick repulsion Loder shook him off; then almost as quickly he + turned round. + </p> + <p> + “What fools we all are!” he said, abruptly. “We, only differ in degree. + Come in, and let us change our clothes.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII + </h2> + <p> + The best moments of a man's life are the moments when, strong in himself, + he feels that the world lies before him. Gratified ambition may be the + summer, but anticipation is the ardent spring-time of a man's career. + </p> + <p> + As Loder drove that night frown Fleet Street to Grosvenor Square he + realized this—though scarcely with any degree of consciousness—for + he was no accomplished self-analyst. But in a wave of feeling too vigorous + to be denied he recognized his regained foothold—the step that + lifted him at once from the pit to the pinnacle. + </p> + <p> + In that moment of realization he looked neither backward nor forward. The + present was all-sufficing. Difficulties might loom ahead, but difficulties + had but one object—the testing and sharpening of a man's strength. + In the first deep surge of egotistical feeling he almost rejoiced in + Chilcote's weakness. The more Chilcote tangled the threads of his life, + the stronger must be the fingers that unravelled them. He was possessed by + a great impatience; the joy of action was stirring in his blood. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the cab, he walked confidently to the door of Chilcote's house and + inserted the latch-key. Even in this small act there was a grain of + individual satisfaction. Then very quietly he opened the door and crossed + the hall. + </p> + <p> + As he entered, a footman was arranging the fire that burned in the big + grate. Seeing the man, he halted. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your mistress?” he asked, in unconscious repetition of his first + question in the same house. + </p> + <p> + The man looked up. “She has just finished dinner, sir. She dined alone in + her own room.” He glanced at Loder in the quick, uncertain way that was + noticeable in all the servants of the household when they addressed their + master. Loder saw the look and wondered what depth of curiosity it + betrayed, how much of insight into the domestic life that he must always + be content to skim. For an instant the old resentment against Chilcote + tinged his exaltation, but he swept it angrily aside. Without further + remark he began to mount the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Gaining the landing, he did not turn as usual to the door that shut off + Chilcote's rooms, but moved onward down the corridor towards Eve's private + sitting-room. He moved slowly till the door was reached; then he, paused + and lifted his hand. There was a moment's wait while his fingers rested on + the handle; then a sensation he could not explain—a reticence, a + reluctance to intrude upon this one precinct—caused his, fingers to + relax. With a slightly embarrassed gesture he drew back slowly and + retraced his steps. + </p> + <p> + Once in Chilcote's bedroom, he walked to the nearest bell and pressed it. + Renwick responded, and at sight of him Loder's feelings warmed with the + same sense of fitness and familiarity that the great bed and sombre + furniture of the room had inspired. + </p> + <p> + But the man did not come forward as he had expected. He remained close to + the door with a hesitation that was unusual in a trained servant. It + struck Loder that possibly his stolidity had exasperated Chilcote, and + that possibly Chilcote had been at no pains to conceal the exasperation. + The idea caused him to smile involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “Come into the room, Renwick,” he said. “It's uncomfortable to see you + standing there. I want to know if Mrs. Chilcote has sent me any message + about to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Renwick studied him furtively as he came forward. “Yes, sir,” he said. + “Mrs. Chilcote's maid said that the carriage was ordered for ten-fifteen, + and she hoped that would suit you.” He spoke reluctantly, as if expecting + a rebuke. + </p> + <p> + At the opening sentence Loder had turned aside, but now, as the man + finished, he wheeled round again and looked at him closely with his keen, + observant eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said. “I can't have you speak to me like that. I may come + down on you rather sharply when my—my nerves are bad; but when I'm + myself I treat you—well, I treat you decently, at any rate. You'll + have to learn to discriminate. Look at me now!” A thrill of risk and of + rulership passed through him as he spoke. “Look at me now! Do I look as I + looked this morning—or yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + The man eyed him half stupidly, half timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” Loder insisted. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” Renwick responded, with some slowness; “you look the same—and + you look different. A healthier color, perhaps, sir—and the eye + clearer.” He grew more confident under Loder's half-humorous, + half-insistent gaze. “Now that I look closer, sir—” + </p> + <p> + Loder laughed. “That's it!” he said. “Now that you look closer. You'll + have to grow observant: observation is an excellent quality in a servant. + Wheat you come into a room in future, look first of all at me—and + take your cue from that. Remember that serving a man with nerves is like + serving two masters. Now you can go; and tell Mrs. Chilcote's maid that I + shall be quite ready at a quarter-past ten.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. And after that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing further. I sha'n't want you again to-night.” He turned away as he + spoke, and moved towards the great fire that was always kept alight in + Chilcote's room. But as the man moved towards the door he wheeled back + again. “Oh, one thing more, Renwick! Bring me some sandwiches and a + whiskey.” He remembered for the first time that he had eaten nothing since + early afternoon. + </p> + <p> + At a few minutes after ten Loder left Chilcote's room, resolutely + descended the stairs, and took up his position in the hall. Resolution is + a strong word to apply to such a proceeding, but something in his bearing, + in the attitude of his shoulders and head, instinctively suggested it. + </p> + <p> + Five or six minutes passed, but he waited without impatience; then at last + the sound of a carriage stopping before the house caused him to lift his + head, and at the same instant Eve appeared at the head of the staircase. + </p> + <p> + She stood there for a second, looking down on him, her maid a pace or two + behind, holding her cloak. The picture she made struck upon his mind with + something of a revelation. + </p> + <p> + On his first sight of her she had appealed to him as a strange blending of + youth and self-possession—a girl with a woman's clearer perception + of life; later he had been drawn to study her in other aspects—as a + possible comrade and friend; now for the first time he saw her as a power + in her own world, a woman to whom no man could deny consideration. She + looked taller for the distance between them, and the distinction of her + carriage added to the effect. Her black gown was exquisitely soft—as + soft as her black hair; above her forehead was a cluster of splendid + diamonds shaped like a coronet, and a band of the same stones encircled + her neck. Loder realized in a glance that only the most distinguished of + women could wear such ornaments and not have her beauty eclipsed. With a + touch of the old awkwardness that had before assailed him in her presence, + he came slowly forward as she descended the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Can I help you with your cloak?” he asked. And as he asked it, something + like surprise at his own timidity crossed his mind. + </p> + <p> + For a second Eve's glance rested on his face. Her expression was quite + impassive, but as she lowered her lashes a faint gleam flickered across + her eyes; nevertheless, her answer, when it came, was studiously + courteous. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she said, “but Marie will do all I want.” + </p> + <p> + Loder looked at her for a moment, then turned aside. He was not hurt by + his rebuff; rather, by an interesting sequence of impressions, he was + stirred by it. The pride that had refused Chilcote's help, and the + self-control that had refused it graciously, moved him to admiration. He + understood and appreciated both by the light of person experience. + </p> + <p> + “The carriage is waiting, sir,” Crapham's voice broke in. + </p> + <p> + Loder nodded, and Eve turned to her maid. “That will do, Marie,” she said. + “I shall want a cup of chocolate when I get back—probably at one o + clock.” She drew her cloak about her shoulders and moved towards the door. + Then she paused and looked back. “Shall we start?” she asked, quietly. + </p> + <p> + Loder, still watching her, came forward at once. “Certainly,” he said, + with unusual gentleness. + </p> + <p> + He followed her as she crossed the footpath, but made no further offer of + help; and when the moment came he quietly took his place beside her in the + carriage. His last impression, as the horses wheeled round, was of the + open hall door—Crapham in his sombre livery and the maid in her + black dress, both silhouetted against the dark background of the hall; + then, as the carriage moved forward smoothly and rapidly, he leaned back + in his seat and closed his eyes. + </p> + <p> + During the first few moments of the drive there was silence. To Loder + there was a strange, new sensation in this companionship, so close and yet + so distant. He was so near to Eve that the slight fragrant scent from her + clothes might almost have belonged to his own. The impression was + confusing yet vaguely delightful. It was years since he had been so close + to a woman of his own class—his own caste. He acknowledged the + thought with a curious sense of pleasure. Involuntarily he turned and + looked at her. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting very straight, her fine profile cut clear against the + carriage window, her diamonds quivering in the light that flashed by them + from the street. For a space the sense of unreality that had pervaded his + first entrance into Chilcote's life touched him again, then another and + more potent feeling rose to quell it. Almost involuntarily as he looked at + her his lips parted. + </p> + <p> + “May I say something?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Eve remained motionless. She did not turn her head, as most women would + have done. “Say anything you like,” she said, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Anything?” He bent a little nearer, filled again by the inordinate wish + to dominate. + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him that her voice sounded forced and a little tired. For a + moment he looked through the window at the passing lights; then slowly his + gaze returned to her face. + </p> + <p> + “You look very beautiful to-night,” he said. His voice was low and his + manner unemotional, but his words had the effect he desired. + </p> + <p> + She turned her head, and her eyes met his in a glance of curiosity and + surprise. + </p> + <p> + Slight as the triumph was, it thrilled him. The small scene with + Chilcote's valet came back to him; his own personality moved him again to + a reckless determination to make his own voice heard. Leaning forward, he + laid his hand lightly on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, quickly—“Eve, do you remember?” Then he paused and + withdrew his hand. The horses had slackened speed, then stopped altogether + as the carriage fell into line outside Bramfell House. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV + </h2> + <p> + Loder entered Lady Bramfell's feeling far more like an actor in a drama + than an ordinary man in a peculiar situation. It was the first time he had + played Chilcote to a purely social audience, and the first time for many + years that he had rubbed shoulders with a well-dressed crowd ostensibly + brought together for amusement. As he followed Eve along the corridor that + led to the reception-rooms he questioned the reality of the position again + and again; then abruptly, at the moment when the sensation of + unfamiliarity was strongest, a cheery voice hailed him, and, turning, he + saw the square shoulders, light eyes, and pointed mustache of Lakeley, the + owner of the 'St. George's Gazette'. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of the man and the sound of his greeting his doubts and + speculations vanished. The essentials of life rose again to the position + they had occupied three weeks ago, in the short but strenuous period when + his dormant activities had been stirred and he had recognized his true + self. He lifted his head unconsciously, the shade of misgiving that had + crossed his confidence passing from him as he smiled at Lakeley with a + keen, alert pleasure that altered his whole face. + </p> + <p> + Eve, looking back, saw the expression. It attracted and held her, like a + sudden glimpse into a secret room. In all the years of her marriage, in + the months of her courtship even, she had never surprised the look on + Chilcote's face. The impression came quickly, and with it a strange, warm + rush of interest that receded slowly, leaving an odd sense of loneliness. + But, at the moment that the feeling came and passed, her attention was + claimed in another direction. A slight, fair-haired boy forced his way + towards her through the press of people that filled the corridor. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Chilcote!” he exclaimed. “Can I believe my luck in finding you + alone?” + </p> + <p> + Eve laughed. It seemed that there was relief in her laugh. “How absurd you + are, Bobby!” she said, kindly. “But you are wrong. My husband is here—I + am waiting for him.” + </p> + <p> + Blessington looked round. “Oh!” he said. “Indeed!” Then he relapsed into + silence. He was the soul of good-nature, but those who knew him best knew + that Chilcote's summary change of secretaries had rankled. Eve, conscious + of the little jar, made haste to smooth it away. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about yourself,” she said. “What have you been doing?” + </p> + <p> + Blessington looked at her, then smiled again, his buoyancy restored. + “Doing?” he said. “Oh, calling every other afternoon at Grosvenor Square—only + to find that a certain lady is never at home.” + </p> + <p> + At his tone Eve laughed again. The boy, with his frank and ingenuous + nature, had beguiled many a dull hour for her in past days, and she had + missed him not a little when his place had been filled by Greening. + </p> + <p> + “But I mean seriously, Bobby. Has something good turned up?” + </p> + <p> + Blessington made a wry face “Something is on its way—that's why I am + on duty to-right. Old Bramfell and the pater are working it between them. + So if Lady Bramfell or Lady Astrupp happen to drop a fan or a handkerchief + this evening, I've got to be here to pick it up. See?” + </p> + <p> + “As you picked up my fans and handkerchiefs last year—and the year + before?” Eve smiled. + </p> + <p> + Blessington's face suddenly looked grave. “I wish you hadn't said that,” + he said. Then he paused abruptly. Out of the hum of talk behind them a + man's laugh sounded. It was not loud, but it was a laugh that one seldom + hears in a London drawing-room—it expressed interest, amusement, and + in an inexplicable may it seemed also to express strength. + </p> + <p> + Eve and Blessington both turned involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” said Blessington + </p> + <p> + Eve said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Loder was parting with Lakely, and his was the laugh that had attracted + them both. The interest excited by his talk was still reflected in his + face and bearing as he made his way towards them. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” said Blessington again. “I never realized that Chilcote was so + tall.” + </p> + <p> + Again Eve said nothing. But silently and with a more subtle meaning she + found herself echoing the words. + </p> + <p> + Until he was quite close to her, Loder did not seem to see her. Then he + stopped quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I was speaking to Lakely,” he said. “He wants me to dine with him one + night at Cadogan Gardens.” + </p> + <p> + But Eve was silent, waiting for him to address Blessington. She glanced at + him quickly, but though their eyes met he did not catch the meaning that + lay in hers. It was a difficult moment. She had known him incredibly, + almost unpardonably, absent-minded, but it had invariably been when he was + “suffering from nerves,” as she phrased it to herself. But to-night he was + obviously in the possession of unclouded faculties. She colored slightly + and glanced under her lashes at Blessington. Had the same idea struck him, + she wondered? But he was studiously studying a suit of Chinese armor that + stood close by in a niche of the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Bobby has been keeping me amused while you talked to Mr. Lakely,” she + said, pointedly. + </p> + <p> + Directly addressed, Loder turned and looked at Blessington. “How d'you + do?” he said, with doubtful cordiality. The name of Bobby conveyed nothing + to him. + </p> + <p> + To his surprise, Eve looked annoyed, and Blessington's fresh-colored face + deepened in tone. With a slow, uncomfortable sensation he was aware of + having struck a wrong note. + </p> + <p> + There was a short, unpleasant pause. Then, more by intuition than actual + sight, Blessington saw Eve's eyes turn from him to Loder, and with quick + tact he saved the situation. + </p> + <p> + “How d'you do, sir?” he responded, with a smile. “I congratulate you on + looking so—so uncommon well. I was just telling Mrs. Chilcote that I + hold a commission for Lady Astrupp to-night. I'm a sort of scout at + present—reporting on the outposts.” He spoke fast and without much + meaning, but his boyish voice eased the strain. + </p> + <p> + Eve thanked him with a smile. “Then we mustn't interfere with a person on + active service,” she said. “Besides, we have our own duties to get + through.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled again, and, touching Loder's arm, indicated the + reception-rooms. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the larger of the two rooms Lady Bramfell was still + receiving her guests. She was a tall and angular woman, who, except for a + certain beauty of hands and feet and a certain similarity of voice, + possessed nothing in common with her sister Lillian. She was speaking to a + group of people as they approached, and the first sound of her sweet and + rather drawling tones touched Loder with a curious momentary feeling—a + vague suggestion of awakened memories. Then the suggestion vanished as she + turned and greeted Eve. + </p> + <p> + “How sweet of you to come!” she murmured. And it seemed to Loder that a + more spontaneous smile lighted up her face. Then she extended her hand to + him. “And you, too!” she added. “Though I fear we shall bore you + dreadfully.” + </p> + <p> + Watching her with interest, he saw the change of expression as her eyes + turned from Eve to him, and noticed a colder tone in her voice as she + addressed him directly. The observation moved him to self-assertion. + </p> + <p> + “That's a poor compliment to me,” he said “To be bored is surely only a + polite way of being inane.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Bramfell smiled. “What!” she exclaimed. “You defending your social + reputation?” + </p> + <p> + Loder laughed a little. “The smaller it is, the more defending it needs,” + he replied. + </p> + <p> + Another stream of arrivals swept by them as he spoke; Eve smiled at their + hostess and moved across the room, and he perforce followed. As he gained + her side, the little court about Lady Bramfell was left well in the rear, + the great throng at the farther end of the room was not yet reached, and + for the moment they were practically alone. + </p> + <p> + There was a certain uneasiness in that moment of companionship. It seemed + to him that Eve wished to speak, but hesitated. Once or twice she opened + and closed the fan that she was carrying, then at last, as if by an + effort, she turned and looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Why were you so cold to Bobby Blessington?” she asked. “Doesn't it seem + discourteous to ignore him as you did?” + </p> + <p> + Her manner was subdued. It was not the annoyed manner that one uses to a + man when he has behaved ill; it was the explanatory tone one might adopt + towards an incorrigible child. Loder felt this; but the gist of a remark + always came to him first, its mode of expression later. The fact that it + was Blessington whom he had encountered—Blessington to whom he had + spoken with vague politeness—came to him with a sense of + unpleasantness. He was not to blame in the matter, nevertheless he blamed + himself. He was annoyed that, he should have made the slip in Eve's + presence. + </p> + <p> + They were moving forward, nearing the press of people in the second room, + when Eve spoke, and the fact filled him with an added sense of annoyance. + People smiled and bowed to her from every side; one woman leaned forward + as they passed and whispered something in her ear. Again the sensation of + futility and vexation filled him; again he realized how palpable was the + place she held in the world. Then, as his feelings reached their height + and speech seemed forced upon him, a small man with a round face, catching + a glimpse of Eve, darted from a circle of people gathered in one of the + windows and came quickly towards them. + </p> + <p> + With an unjust touch of irritation he recognized Lord Bramfell. + </p> + <p> + Again the sense of Eve's aloofness stung him as their host approached. In + another moment she would be lost to him among this throng of strangers—claimed + by them as by right. + </p> + <p> + “Eve—” he said, involuntarily and under his breath. + </p> + <p> + She half paused and turned towards him. “Yes?” she said; and he wondered + if it was his imagination that made the word sound slightly eager. + </p> + <p> + “About that matter of Blessington—” he began. Then he stopped, + Bramfell had reached them. + </p> + <p> + The little man came up smiling and with an outstretched hand. “There's no + penalty for separating husband and wife, is there, Mrs. Chilcote? How are + you, Chilcote?” He turned from one to the other with the quick, noiseless + manner that always characterized him. + </p> + <p> + Loder turned aside to hide his vexation, but Eve greeted their host with + her usual self-possessed smile. + </p> + <p> + “You are exempt from all penalties to-night,” she said. Then she turned to + greet the members of his party who had strolled across from the window in + his wake. + </p> + <p> + As she moved aside Bramfell looked at Loder. “Well, Chilcote, have you + dipped into the future yet?” he asked, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + Loder echoed the laugh but said nothing. In his uncertainty at the + question he reverted to his old resource of silence. + </p> + <p> + Bramfell raised his eyebrows. “What!” he said. “Don't tell me that my + sister-in-law hasn't engaged you as a victim.” Then he turned in Eve's + direction. “You've heard of our new departure, Mrs. Chilcote?” + </p> + <p> + Eve looked round from the lively group by which she was surrounded. + “Lillian's crystal-gazing? Why, of course!” she said. “She should make a + very beautiful seer. We are all quite curious.” + </p> + <p> + Bramfell pursed up his lips. “She has a very beautiful tent at the end of + the conservatory. It took five men as many days to rig it up. We couldn't + hear ourselves talk, for hammering. My wife said it made her feel quite + philanthropic, it reminded her so much of a charity bazaar.” + </p> + <p> + Everybody laughed; and at the same moment Blessington came quickly across + the room and joined the group. + </p> + <p> + “Hallo!” he said. “Anybody seen Witcheston? He's next on my list for the + crystal business.” + </p> + <p> + Again the whole party laughed, and Bramfell, stepping forward, touched + Blessington's arm in mock seriousness. + </p> + <p> + “Witcheston is playing bridge, like a sensible man,” he said. “Leave him + in peace, Bobby.” + </p> + <p> + Blessington made a comical grimace. “But I'm working this on commercial + principles,” he said. “I keep the list, names and hours complete, and Lady + Astrupp gazes, in blissful ignorance as to who her victims are. The whole + thing is great—simple and statistical.” + </p> + <p> + “For goodness' sake, Bobby, shut up!” Bramfell's round eyes were twinkling + with amusement. + </p> + <p> + “But my system—” + </p> + <p> + “Systems! Ah, we all had them when we were as young as you are!” + </p> + <p> + “And they all had flaws, Bobby,” Eve broke in. “We were always finding + gaps that had to be filled up. Never mind about Lord Witcheston. Get a + substitute; it won't count—if Lillian doesn't know.” + </p> + <p> + Blessington wavered as she spoke. His eyes wandered round the party and + again rested on Bramfell. + </p> + <p> + “Not me, Bobby! Remember, I've breathed crystals—practically lived + on them—for the last week. Now, there's Chilcote—” Again his + eyes twinkled. + </p> + <p> + All eyes were turned on Loder, though one or two strayed surreptitiously + to Eve. She, seeming sensitive to the position, laughed quickly. + </p> + <p> + “A very good idea!” she said. “Who wants to see the future, if not a + politician?” + </p> + <p> + Loder glanced from her to Blessington. Then, with a very feminine impulse, + she settled the matter beyond dispute. + </p> + <p> + “Please use your authority, Bobby,” she said. “And when you've got him + safely under canvas, come back to me. It's years since we've had a talk.” + She nodded and smiled, then instantly turned to Bramfell with some trivial + remark. + </p> + <p> + For a second Loder waited, then with a movement of resignation he laid his + hand on Blessington's arm. “Very well!” he said. “But if my fate is black, + witness it was my wife who sent me to it.” His faint pause on the word + wife, the mention of the word itself in the presence of these people, had + a savor of recklessness. The small discomfiture of his earlier slip + vanished before it; he experienced a strong reaction of confidence in his + luck. With a cool head, a steady step, and a friendly pressure of the + fingers on Blessington's arm, he allowed himself to be drawn across the + reception-rooms, through the long corridors, and down the broad flight of + steps that led to the conservatory. + </p> + <p> + The conservatory was a feature of the Bramfell townhouse, and to Loder it + came as something wonderful and unlooked-for—with its clustering + green branches, its slight, unoppressive scents, its temperately pleasant + atmosphere. He felt no wish to speak as, still guided by Blessington, he + passed down the shadowy paths that in the half-light had the warmth and + mystery of a Southern garden. Here and there from the darkness came the + whispering of a voice or the sound of a laugh, bringing with them the + necessary touch of life. Otherwise the place was still. + </p> + <p> + Absorbed by the air of solitude, contrasting so remarkably with the noise + and crowded glitter left behind in the reception-rooms, he had moved + half-way down the long, green aisle before the business in hand came back + to him with a sudden sense of annoyance. It seemed so paltry to mar the + quiet of the place with the absurdity of a side-show. He turned to + Blessington with a touch of abruptness. + </p> + <p> + “What am I expected to do?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Blessington looked up, surprised. “Why, I thought, sir—” he began. + Then he instantly altered his tone: “Oh, just enter into the spirit of the + thing. Lady Astrupp won't put much strain on your credulity, but she'll + make a big call on your solemnity.” He laughed. + </p> + <p> + He had an infectious laugh, and Loder responded to it. + </p> + <p> + “But what am I to do?” he persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing. Being the priestess, she, naturally demands acolytes; but + she'll let you know that she holds the prior place. The tent is so fixed + that she sees nothing beyond your hands; so there's absolutely no + delusion.” He laughed once more. Then suddenly he lowered his voice and + slackened his steps. “Here we are!” he whispered, in pretended awe. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the path the space widened to the full breadth of the + conservatory. The light was dimmer, giving an added impression of + distance; away to the left, Loder heard the sound of splashing water, and + on his right hand he caught his first glimpse of the tent that was his + goal. + </p> + <p> + It was an artistic little structure—a pavilion formed of silky + fabric that showed bronze in the light of an Oriental lamp that hung above + its entrance. As they drew closer, a man emerged from it. He stood for a + moment in uncertainty, looking about him; then, catching sight of them, he + came forward laughing. + </p> + <p> + “By George!” he exclaimed, “it's as dark as limbo in there! I didn't see + you at first. But I say, Blessington, it's a beastly shame to have that + thunder-cloud barrier shutting off the sorceress. If she gazes at the + crystal, mayn't we have something to gaze at, too?” + </p> + <p> + Blessington laughed. “You want too much, Galltry,” he said. “Lady Astrupp + understands the value of the unattainable. Come along, sir!” he added to + Loder, drawing him forward with an energetic pressure of the arm. + </p> + <p> + Loder responded, and as he did so a flicker of curiosity touched his mind + for the first time. He wondered for an instant who this woman was who + aroused so much comment. And with the speculation came the remembrance of + how she had assured Chilcote that on one point, at least he was + invulnerable. He had spoken then from the height of a past experience—an + experience so fully passed that he wondered now if it had been as staple a + guarantee as he had then believed. Man's capacity for outliving is + astonishingly complete. The long-ago incident in the Italian mountains had + faded, like a crayon study in which the tones have merged and gradually + lost character. The past had paled before the present—as golden hair + might pale before black. The simile came with apparent irrelevance. Then + again Blessington pressed his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir!” he said, drawing away and lifting the curtain that hung before + the entrance of the tent. + </p> + <p> + Loder looked at the amused, boyish face lighted by the hanging lamp, and + smiled pleasantly; then, with a shrug of the shoulders, he entered the + pavilion and the curtain fell behind him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV + </h2> + <p> + On entering the pavilion, Loder's first feeling was one of annoyed + awkwardness at finding himself in almost total darkness. But as his eyes + grew accustomed to the gloom, the feeling vanished and the absurdity of + the position came to his mind. + </p> + <p> + The tent was small, heavily draped with silk and smelling of musk. It was + divided into two sections by an immovable curtain that hung from the roof + to within a few feet of the floor. The only furniture on Loder's side was + one low chair, and the only light a faint radiance that, coming from the + invisible half of the pavilion; spread across the floor in a pale band. + For a short space he stood uncertain, then his hesitation was brought to + an end. + </p> + <p> + “Please sit down,” said a low, soft voice. + </p> + <p> + For a further moment he stood undecided. The voice sounded so unexpectedly + near. In the quiet and darkness of the place it seemed to possess a + disproportionate weight—almost the weight of a familiar thing. Then, + with a sudden, unanalyzed touch of relief, he located the impression. It + was the similarity to Lady Bramfell's sweet, slow tones that had stirred + his mind. With a sense of satisfaction he drew the chair forward and sat + down. + </p> + <p> + Then, for the first time, he saw that on the other side of the gauze + partition, and below it by a few inches, was a small table of polished + wood, on which stood an open book, a crystal ball, and a gold dish filled + with ink. These were arranged on the side of the table nearest to him, the + farther side being out of his range of vision. An amused interest touched + him as he made his position more comfortable. Whoever this woman was, she + had an eye for stage management, she knew how to marshal her effects. He + found himself waiting with some curiosity for the next injunction from + behind the curtain. + </p> + <p> + “The art of crystal-gazing,” began the sweet, slow voice after a pause, + “is one of the oldest known arts.” Loder sat forward. The thought of Lady + Bramfell mingled disconcertingly with some other thought more distant and + less easy to secure. + </p> + <p> + “To obtain the best results,” went on the seer, “the subject lays his + uncovered hands outspread upon a smooth surface.” It was evident that the + invisible priestess was reading from the open book, for when the word + “surface” was reached there was a slight stir that indicated the changing + of position; and when the voice came again it was in a different tone. + </p> + <p> + “Please lay your hands, palms downward, upon the table.” + </p> + <p> + Loder smiled to himself in the darkness. He pictured Chilcote with his + nerves and his impatience going through this ordeal; then in good-humored + silence he leaned forward and obeyed the command. His hands rested on the + smooth surface of the table in the bar of light from the unseen lamp. + </p> + <p> + There was a second in which the seer was silent; then he fancied that she + raised her head. + </p> + <p> + “You must take off your rings,” she said smoothly. “Any metal interferes + with the sympathetic current.” + </p> + <p> + At any other time Loder would have laughed; but the request so casually + and graciously made sent all possibility of irony far into the background. + The thought of Chilcote and of the one flaw in their otherwise flawless + scheme rose to his mind. Instinctively he half withdrew his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the sympathetic current?” he asked, quietly. His thoughts were + busy with the question of whether he would or would not be justified in + beating an undignified retreat. + </p> + <p> + “Between you and me, of course,” said the voice, softly. It sounded + languid, but very rational. The idea of retreat seemed suddenly + theatrical. In this world of low voices and shaded lights people never + adopted extreme measures—no occasion made a scene practicable, or + even allowable. He leaned back slowly, while he summed up the situation. + If by any unlucky chance this woman knew Chilcote to have adopted jewelry + and had seen the designs of his rings, the sight of his own scarred finger + would suggest question and comment; if, on the other hand, he left the + pavilion without excuse, or if, without apparent reason, he refused to + remove the rings, he opened up a new difficulty—a fresh road to + curiosity. It came upon him with unusual quickness—the obstacles to, + and the need for, a speedy decision. He glanced round the tent, then + unconsciously he straightened his shoulders. After all, he had stepped + into a tight corner, but there was no need to cry out in squeezing his way + back. Then he realized that the soft, ingratiating tones were sounding + once more. + </p> + <p> + “It's the passing of my hands over yours, while I look into the crystal, + that sets up sympathy”—a slender hand moved swiftly into the light + and picked up the ball—“and makes my eyes see the pictures in your + mind. Now, will you please take off your rings?” + </p> + <p> + The very naturalness of the request disarmed him. It was a risk. But, as + Chilcote had said, risk was the salt of life! + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you think me very troublesome.” The voice came again, + delicately low and conciliatory. + </p> + <p> + For a brief second Loder wondered uncertainly how long or how well + Chilcote knew Lady Astrupp; then he dismissed the question. Chilcote had + never mentioned her until to-night, and then casually as Lady Bramfell's + sister. What a coward he was becoming in throwing the dice with Fate! + Without further delay he drew off the rings, slipped them into his pocket, + and replaced his hands on the smooth table-top. + </p> + <p> + Then, at the moment that he replaced them, a peculiar thing occurred. + </p> + <p> + From the farther side of the dark partition came the quick, rustling stir + of a skirt, and the slight scrape of a chair pushed either backward or + forward. Then there was silence. + </p> + <p> + Now, silence can suggest anything, from profound thought to imbecility; + but in this case its suggestion was nil. That something had happened, that + some change had taken place, was as patent to Loder as the darkness of the + curtain or the band of light that crossed the floor, but what had + occasioned it, or what it stood for, he made no attempt to decide. He sat + bitingly conscious of his hands spread open on the table under the + scrutiny of eyes that were invisible to him vividly aware of the + awkwardness of his position. He felt with instinctive certainty that a new + chord had been struck; but a man seldom acts on instinctive certainties. + If the exposure of his hands had struck this fresh note, then any added + action would but heighten the dilemma. He sat silent and motionless. + </p> + <p> + Whether his impassivity had any bearing on the moment he had no way of + knowing; but no further movement came from behind the partition. Whatever + the emotions that had caused the sharp swish of skirts and the sharp + scrape of the chair, they had evidently subsided or been dominated by + other feelings. + </p> + <p> + The next indication of life that came to him was the laying down of the + crystal ball. It was laid back upon the table with a slight jerk that + indicated a decision come to; and almost simultaneously the seer's voice + came to him again. Her tone was lower now than it had been before, and its + extreme ease seemed slightly shaken—whether by excitement, surprise, + or curiosity, it was impossible to say. + </p> + <p> + “You will think it strange—” she began. “You will think—” Then + she stopped. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, as though she waited for some help, but Loder remained + mute. In difficulty a silent tongue and a cool head are usually man's best + weapons. + </p> + <p> + His silence was disconcerting. He heard her stir again. + </p> + <p> + “You will think it strange—” she began once more. Then quite + suddenly she checked and controlled her voice. “You must forgive me for + what I am going to say,” she added, in a completely different tone, “but + crystal-gazing is such an illusive thing. Directly you put your hands upon + the table I felt that there would be no result; but I wouldn't admit the + defeat. Women are such keen anglers that they can never acknowledge that + any fish, however big, has slipped the hook.” She laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of the laugh Loder shifted his position for the first time. + He could not have told why, but it struck him with a slight sense of + confusion. A precipitate wish to rise and pass through the doorway into + the wider spaces of the conservatory came to him, though he made no + attempt to act upon it. He knew that, for some inexplicable reason, this + woman behind the screen had lied to him—in the controlling of her + speech, in her charge of voice. There had been one moment in which an + impulse or an emotion had almost found voice; then training, instinct, or + it might have been diplomacy, had conquered, and the moment had passed. + There was a riddle in the very atmosphere of the place—and he + abominated riddles. + </p> + <p> + But Lady Astrupp was absorbed in her own concerns. Again she changed her + position; and to Loder, listening attentively, it seemed that she leaned + forward and examined his hands afresh. The sensation was so acute that he + withdrew them involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + Again there was a confused rustle; the crystal ball rolled from the table, + and the seer laughed quickly. Obeying a strenuous impulse, Loder rose. + </p> + <p> + He had no definite notion of what he expected or what he must avoid. He + was only conscious that the pavilion, with its silk draperies, its scent + of musk, and its intolerable secrecy, was no longer endurable. He felt + cramped and confused in mind and muscle. He stood for a second to + straighten his limbs; then he turned, and, moving directly forward, passed + through the portiere. + </p> + <p> + After the dimness of the pavilion the conservatory seemed comparatively + bright; but without waiting to grow accustomed to the altered light he + moved onward with deliberate haste. The long, green alley, was speedily + traversed; in his eyes it no longer possessed greenness, no longer + suggested freshness or repose. It was simply a means to the end upon which + his mind was set. + </p> + <p> + As he passed up the flight of steps he drew his rings from his pocket and + slipped them on again. Then he stepped into the glare of the thronged + corridor. + </p> + <p> + Some one hailed him as he passed through the crowd, but with Chilcote's + most absorbed manner he hurried on. Through the door of the supper-room he + caught sight of Blessington and Eve, and then for the first time his + expression changed, and he turned directly towards them. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, “will you excuse me? I have a word to say to Blessington.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at him in momentary surprise; then she smiled in her quiet, + self-possessed way. + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” she said. “I've been wanting a chat with Millicent Gower, but + Bobby has required so much entertaining—” She smiled again, this + time at Blessington, and moved away towards a pale girl in green who was + standing alone. + </p> + <p> + Instantly she had turned Loder took Blessington's arm. + </p> + <p> + “I know you're tremendously busy,” he began—in an excellent + imitation of Chilcote's hasty manner—“I know you're tremendously + busy, but I'm in a fix.” + </p> + <p> + One glance at Blessington's healthy, ingenuous face told him that plain + speaking was the method to adopt. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir?” In a moment Blessington was on the alert. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And I—I want your help.” + </p> + <p> + The boy reddened. That Chilcote should appeal to him stirred him to an + uneasy feeling of pride and uncertainty. + </p> + <p> + Loder saw his advantage and pressed it home. “It's come about through this + crystal-gazing business. I'm afraid I didn't play my part—rather + made an ass of myself; I wouldn't swallow the thing, and—and Lady + Astrupp—” He paused, measuring Blessington with a glance. “Well, my + dear boy, you—you know what women are!” + </p> + <p> + Blessington was only twenty-three. He reddened again, and assumed an air + of profundity. “I know sir,” he said, with a shake of the head. + </p> + <p> + Loder's sense of humor was keen, but he kept a grave face. “I knew you'd + catch my meaning; but I want you to do something more. If Lady Astrupp + should ask you who was in her tent this past ten minutes, I want you—” + Again he stopped, looking at his companion's face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to tell an immaterial lie for me.” + </p> + <p> + Blessington returned his glance; then he laughed a little uncomfortably. + “But surely, sir—” + </p> + <p> + “She recognized me, you mean?” Loder's eyes were as keen as steel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're wrong. She didn't.” + </p> + <p> + Blessington's eyebrows went up. + </p> + <p> + There was silence. Loder glanced across the room. Eve had parted from the + girl in green and was moving towards them, exchanging smiles and greetings + as she came. + </p> + <p> + “My wife is coming back,” he said. “Will you do this for me, Blessington? + It—it will smooth things—” He spoke quickly, continuing to + watch Eve. As he had hoped, Blessington's eyes turned in the same + direction. “'Twill smooth matters,” he repeated, “smooth them in—in + a domestic way that I can't explain.” + </p> + <p> + The shot told. Blessington looked round. + </p> + <p> + “Right, sir!” he said. “You may leave it to me,” And before Loder could + speak again he had turned and disappeared into the crowd. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI + </h2> + <p> + His business with Blessington over, Loder breathed more freely. If Lady + Astrupp had recognized Chilcote by the rings, and had been roused to + curiosity, the incident would demand settlement sooner or later—settlement + in what proportion he could hazard no guess; if, on the other hand, her + obvious change of manner had arisen from any other source he had a hazy + idea that a woman's behavior could never be gauged by accepted theories—then + he had safeguarded Chilcote's interests and his own by his securing of + Blessington's promise. Blessington he knew would be reliable and discreet. + With a renewal of confidence—a pleasant feeling that his uneasiness + had been groundless—he moved forward to greet Eve. + </p> + <p> + Her face, with its rich, clear coloring, seemed to his gaze to stand out + from the crowd of other faces as from a frame, and a sense of pride + touched him. In every eye but his own her beauty belonged to him. + </p> + <p> + His face looked alive and masterful as she reached his side. “May I + monopolize you?” he said, with the quickness of speech borrowed from + Chilcote. “We see so little of each other.” + </p> + <p> + Almost as if compelled, her lashes lifted and her eyes met his. Her glance + was puzzled, uncertain, slightly confused. There was a deeper color than + usual in her cheeks. Loder felt something within his own consciousness + stir in response. + </p> + <p> + “You know you are yielding,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Again she blushed. + </p> + <p> + He saw the blush, and knew that it was he—his words, his personality—that + had called it forth. In Chilcote's actual semblance he had proved his + superiority over Chilcote. For the first time he had been given a tacit, + personal acknowledgment of his power. Involuntarily he drew nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “Let's get out of this crush.” + </p> + <p> + She made no answer except to bend her head; and it came to him that, for + all her pride, she liked—and unconsciously yielded to—domination. + With a satisfied gesture he turned to make a passage towards the door. + </p> + <p> + But the passage was more easily desired than made. In the few moments + since he had entered the supper-room the press of people had considerably + thickened—until a block had formed about the door-way. Drawing Eve + with him, he moved forward for a dozen paces, then paused, unable to make + further headway. + </p> + <p> + As they stood there, he looked back at her. “What a study in democracy a + crowd always is!” he said. + </p> + <p> + She responded with a bright, appreciative glance, as if surprised into + naturalness. He wondered sharply what she would be like if her enthusiasms + were really aroused. Then a stir in the corridor outside caused a movement + inside the room; and with a certain display of persistence he was enabled + to make a passage to the door. + </p> + <p> + There again they were compelled to halt. But though tightly wedged into + his new position and guarding Eve with one arm, Loder was free to survey + the brilliantly thronged corridor over the head of a man a few inches + shorter than himself, who stood directly in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “What are we waiting for?” he asked, good humoredly, addressing the back + of the stranger's head. + </p> + <p> + The man turned, displaying a genial face, a red mustache, and an + eye-glass. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Chilcote!” he said. “Hope it's not on your feet I'm standing.” + </p> + <p> + Loder laughed. “No,” he said. “And don't change the position. If you were + an inch higher I should be blind as well as crippled.” + </p> + <p> + The other laughed. It was a pleasant surprise to find Chilcote amiable + under discomfort. He looked round again in slight curiosity. + </p> + <p> + Loder felt the scrutiny. To create a diversion he looked out along the + corridor. “I believe we are waiting for something,” he exclaimed. “What's + this?” Then quite abruptly be ceased to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Anything interesting?” Eve touched his arm. + </p> + <p> + He said nothing; he made no effort to look round. His thought as well as + his speech was suddenly suspended. + </p> + <p> + The man in front of him let his eye-glass fall from his eye, then screwed + it in again. + </p> + <p> + “Jove!” he exclaimed. “Here comes our sorceress. It's like the progress of + a fairy princess. I believe this is the meaning of our getting penned in + here,” he chuckled delightedly. + </p> + <p> + Loder said nothing. He stared straight on over the other's head. + </p> + <p> + Along the corridor, agreeably conscious of the hum of admiration she + aroused, came Lillian Astrupp, surrounded by a little court. Her delicate + face was lit up; her eyes shone under the faint gleam of her hair; her + gown of gold embroidery swept round her gracefully. She was radiant and + triumphant, but she was also excited. The excitement was evident in her + laugh, in her gestures, in her eyes, as they turned quickly in one + direction and then another. + </p> + <p> + Loder, gazing in stupefaction over the other man's head, saw it—felt + and understood it with a mind that leaped back over a space of years. As + in a shifting panorama he saw a night of disturbance and confusion in a + far-off Italian valley—a confusion from which one face shone out + with something of the pale, alluring radiance that filtered over the + hillside from the crescent moon. It passed across his consciousness slowly + but with a slow completeness; and in its light the incidents of the past + hour stood out in a new aspect. The echo of recollection stirred by Lady + Bramfell's voice, the re-echo of it in the sister's tones; his own + blindness, his own egregious assurance—all struck across his mind. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the party about Lillian drew nearer. He felt with instinctive + certainty that the supper-room was its destination, but he remained + motionless, held by a species of fatalism. He watched her draw near with + an unmoved face, but in the brief space that passed while she traversed + the corridor he gauged to the full the hold that the new atmosphere, the + new existence, had gained over his mind. With an unlooked-for rush of + feeling he realized how dearly he would part with it. + </p> + <p> + As Lillian came closer, the meaning of her manner became clearer to him. + She talked incessantly, laughing now and then, but her eyes were never + quiet. These skimmed the length of the corridor, then glanced over the + heads crowded in the door-way. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have something quite sweet, Geoffrey,” she was saying to the man + beside her, as she came within hearing. “You know what I like—a sort + of snowflake wrapped up in sugar.” As she said the words her glance + wandered. Loder saw it rest uninterestedly on a boy a yard or two in front + of him, then move to the man over whose head he gazed, then lift itself + inevitably to his face. + </p> + <p> + The glance was quick and direct. He saw the look of recognition spring + across it; he saw her move forward suddenly as the crowd in the corridor + parted to let her pass. Then he saw what seemed to him a miracle. + </p> + <p> + Her whole expression altered, her lips parted, and she colored with + annoyance. She looked like a spoiled child who, seeing a bonbon-box, opens + it—to find it empty. + </p> + <p> + As the press about the door-way melted to give her passage, the red-haired + man in front of Loder was the first to take advantage of the space. “Jove! + Lillian,” he said, moving forward, “you look as if you expected Chilcote + to be somebody else, and are disappointed to find he's only himself!” He + laughed delightedly at his own joke. + </p> + <p> + The words were exactly the tonic that Lillian needed. She smiled her usual + undisturbed smile as she turned her eyes upon him. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Leonard, you're using your eye-glass; when that happens you're + never responsible for what you see.” Her words came more slowly and with a + touch of languid amusement. Her composure was suddenly restored. + </p> + <p> + Then for the first time Loder changed his position. Moved by an impulse he + made no effort to dissect, he stepped back to Eve's side and slipped his + arm through hers—successfully concealing his left hand. + </p> + <p> + The warmth of her skin through her long glove thrilled him unexpectedly. + His impulse had been one of self-defence, but the result was of a + different character. At the quick contact the wish to fight for—to + hold and defend—the position that had grown so dear woke in renewed + force. With a new determination he turned again towards Lillian. + </p> + <p> + “I caught the same impression—without an eyeglass,” he said. “Why + did you look like that?” He asked the question steadily and with apparent + carelessness, though, through it all, his reason stood aghast—his + common-sense cried aloud that it was impossible for the eyes that had seen + his face in admiration, in love, in contempt, to fail now in recognition. + The air seemed breathless while he spoke and waited. His impression of + Lillian was a mere shimmering of gold dress and gold hair; all that he was + really conscious of was the pressure of his hand on Eve's arm and the + warmth of her skin through the soft glove. Then, abruptly, the mist + lifted. He saw Lillian's eyes—indifferent, amused, slightly + contemptuous; and a second later he heard her voice. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Jack,” she said, sweetly, “how absurd of you! It was simply the + contrast of your eyes peering over Leonard's hair It was like a gorgeous + sunset with a black cloud overhead.” She laughed. “Do you see what I mean, + Eve?” She affected to see Eve for the first time. + </p> + <p> + Eve had been looking calmly ahead. She turned now and smiled serenely. + Loder felt no vibration of the arm he held, yet by an instant intuition he + knew that the two women were antagonistic. He experienced it with the + divination that follows upon a moment of acute suspense. He understood it, + as he had understood Lillian's look of recognition when his forehead, + eyes, and nose had shown him to be himself; her blank surprise when his + close-shaven lip and chin had proclaimed him Chilcote. + </p> + <p> + He felt like a man who has looked into an abyss and stepped back from the + edge, outwardly calm but mentally shaken. The commonplaces of life seemed + for the moment to hold deeper meanings. He did not hear Eve's answer, he + paid no heed to Lillian's next remark. He saw her smile and turn to the + red-haired man; finally he saw her move on into the supper-room, followed + by her little court. Then he pressed the arm he was still holding. He felt + an urgent need of companionship—of a human expression to the crisis + he had passed. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we get out of this?” he asked again. + </p> + <p> + Eve looked up. “Out of the room?” she said. + </p> + <p> + He looked down at her, compelling her gaze. “Out of the room—and the + house,” he answered. “Let us go-home.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII + </h2> + <p> + The necessary formalities of departure were speedily got through. The + passing of the corridors, the gaining of the carriage, seemed to Loder to + be marvellously simple proceedings. Then, as he sat by Eve's side and + again felt the forward movement of the horses, he had leisure for the + first time to wonder whether the time that had passed since last he + occupied that position had actually been lived through. + </p> + <p> + Only that night he had unconsciously compared one incident in his life to + a sketch in which the lights and shadows have been obliterated and lost. + Now that picture rose before him, startlingly and incredibly intact. He + saw the sunlit houses of Santasalare, backgrounded by the sunlit hills—saw + them as plainly as when he himself had sketched them on his memory. Every + detail of the scene remained the same, even to the central figure; only + the eye and the hand of the artist had changed. + </p> + <p> + At this point Eve broke in upon his thoughts. Her first words were + curiously coincidental. + </p> + <p> + “What did you think of Lillian Astrupp to-night?” she asked. “Wasn't her + gown perfect?” + </p> + <p> + Loder lifted his head with an almost guilty start. Then he answered + straight from his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “I—I didn't notice it,” he said; “but her eyes reminded me of a + cat's eyes—and she walks like a cat. I never seemed to see it—until + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Eve changed her position. “She was very artistic,” she said, tentatively. + “Don't you think the gold gown was beautiful with her pale-colored hair?” + </p> + <p> + Loder felt surprised. He was convinced that Eve disliked the other and he + was not sufficiently versed in women to understand her praise. “I thought—” + he began. Then he wisely stopped. “I didn't see the gown,” he substituted. + </p> + <p> + Eve looked out of the window. “How unappreciative men are!” she said. But + her tone was strangely free from censure. + </p> + <p> + After this there was silence until Grosvenor Square was reached. Having + left the carriage and passed into the house, Eve paused for a moment at + the foot of the stairs to give an order to Crapham, who was still in + attendance in the hall; and again Loder had an opportunity of studying + her. As he looked, a sharp comparison rose to his mind. + </p> + <p> + “A fairy princess!” he had heard the red-haired man say as Lillian Astrupp + came into view along the Bramfells' corridor, and the simile had seemed + particularly apt. With her grace, her delicacy, her subtle attraction, she + might well be the outcome of imagination. But with Eve it was different. + She also was graceful and attractive—but it was grace and attraction + of a different order. One was beautiful with the beauty of the white rose + that springs from the hot-house and withers at the first touch of cold; + the other with the beauty of the wild rose on the cliffs above the sea, + that keeps its petals fine and transparent in face of salt spray and wet + mist. Eve, too, had her realm, but it was the realm of real things. A + great confidence, a feeling that here one might rely even if all other + faiths were shaken, touched him suddenly. For a moment he stood + irresolute, watching her mount the stairs with her easy, assured step. + Then a determination came to him. Fate favored him to-night; he was in + luck tonight. He would put his fortune to one more test. He swung across + the hall and ran up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + His face was keen with interest as he reached her side. The hard outline + of his features and the hard grayness of his eyes were softened as when he + had paused to talk with Lakely. Action was the breath of his life, and his + face changed under it as another's might change under the influence of + stirring music or good wine. + </p> + <p> + Eve saw the look and again the uneasy expression of surprise crossed her + eyes. She paused, her hand resting on the banister. + </p> + <p> + Loder looked at her directly. “Will you come into the study—as you + came that other night? There's something I want to say.” He spoke quietly. + He felt master of himself and of her. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated, glanced at him, and then glanced away. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come?” he said again. And as he said it his eyes rested on the + sweep of her thick eyelashes, the curve of the black hair. + </p> + <p> + At last her lashes lifted, and the perplexity and doubt in her blue eyes + stirred him. Without waiting for her answer, he leaned forward. + </p> + <p> + “Say yes!” he urged. “I don't often ask for favors.” + </p> + <p> + Still she hesitated; then her decision was made for her. With a new + boldness he touched her arm, drawing her forward gently but decisively + towards Chilcote's rooms. + </p> + <p> + In the study a fire burned brightly, the desk was laden with papers, the + lights were nicely adjusted; even the chairs were in their accustomed + places. Loder's senses responded to each suggestion. It seemed but a day + since he had seen it last. It was precisely as he had left it—the + niche needing but the man. + </p> + <p> + To hide his emotion he crossed the floor quickly and drew a chair forward. + In less than six hours he had run up and down the scale of emotions. He + had looked despair in the face, till the sudden sight of Chilcote had + lifted him to the skies; since then, surprise had assailed him in its + strongest form; he had known the full meaning of the word “risk”; and from + every contingency he had come out conqueror. He bent over the chair as he + pulled it forward, to hide the expression in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” he said, gently. + </p> + <p> + Eve moved towards him. She moved slowly, as if half afraid. Many emotions + stirred her—distrust, uncertainty, and a curious half-dominant, + half-suppressed questioning that it was difficult to define. Loder + remembered her shrinking coldness, her reluctant tolerance on the night of + his first coming, and his individuality, his certainty of power, kindled + afresh. Never had he been so vehemently himself; never had Chilcote seemed + so complete a shadow. + </p> + <p> + As Eve seated herself, he moved forward and leaned over the back of her + chair. The impulse that had filled him in his interview with Renwick, that + had goaded him as he drove to the reception, was dominant again. + </p> + <p> + “I tried to say something as we drove to the Bramfells' to-night,” he + began. Like many men who possess eloquence for an impersonal cause, he was + brusque, even blunt, in the stating of his own case. “May I hark back, and + go on from where I broke off?” + </p> + <p> + Eve half turned. Her face was still puzzled and questioning. “Of course.” + She sat forward again, clasping her hands. + </p> + <p> + He looked thoughtfully at the back of her head, at the slim outline of her + shoulders, the glitter of the diamonds about her neck. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember the day, three weeks ago, that we talked together in this + room? The day a great many things seemed possible?” + </p> + <p> + This time she did not look round. She kept her gaze upon the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember?” he persisted, quietly. In his college days men who + heard that tone of quiet persistence had been wont to lose heart. Eve + heard it now for the first time, and, without being aware, answered to it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “On that day you believed in me—” In his earnestness he no longer + simulated Chilcote; he spoke with his own steady reliance. He saw Eve + stir, unclasp and clasp her hands, but he went steadily on. “On that day + you saw me in a new light. You acknowledged me.” He emphasized the + slightly peculiar word. “But since that day”—his voice quickened + “since that day your feelings have changed—your faith in me has + fallen away.” He watched her closely; but she made no sign, save to lean + still nearer to the fire. He crossed his arms over the back of her chair. + “You were justified,” he said, suddenly. “I've not been—myself since + that day.” As he said the words his coolness forsook him slightly. He + loathed the necessary lie, yet his egotism clamored for vindication. “All + men have their lapses,” he went on; “there are times—there are days + and weeks when I—when my—” The word “nerves” touched his + tongue, hung upon it, then died away unspoken. + </p> + <p> + Very quietly, almost without a sound, Eve had risen and turned towards + him. She was standing very straight, her face a little pale, the hand that + rested on the arm of her chair trembling slightly. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, quickly, “don't say that word? Don't say that hideous + word `nerves'! I don't feel that I can bear it to-night—not just + to-night. Can you understand?” + </p> + <p> + Loder stepped back. Without comprehending, he felt suddenly and strangely + at a loss. Something in her face struck him silent and perplexed. It + seemed that without preparation he had stepped upon dangerous ground. With + an undefined apprehension he waited, looking at her. + </p> + <p> + “I can't explain it,” she went on with nervous haste, “I can't give any + reasons, but quite suddenly the—the farce has grown unbearable. I + used not to think—used not even to care—but suddenly things + have changed—or I have changed.” She paused, confused and + distressed. “Why should it be? Why should things change?” She asked the + question sharp. ly, as if in appeal against her own incredulity. + </p> + <p> + Loder turned aside. He was afraid of the triumph, volcanic and + irrepressible, that her admission roused. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she said again. + </p> + <p> + He turned slowly back. “You forget that I'm not a magician,” he said, + gently. “I hardly know what you are speaking of.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment she was silent, but in that moment her eyes spoke. Pain, + distress, pride, all strove for expression; then at last her lips parted. + </p> + <p> + “Do you say that in seriousness?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + It was no moment for fencing, and Loder knew it. “In seriousness,” he + replied, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall speak seriously, too.” Her voice shook slightly and the + color came back into her face, but the hand on the arm of the chair ceased + to tremble. “For more than four years I have known that you take drugs—for + more than four years I have acquiesced in your deceptions—in your + meannesses—” + </p> + <p> + There was an instant's silence. Then Loder stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + “You knew—for four years?” he said, very slowly. For the first time + that night he remembered Chilcote and forgot himself. + </p> + <p> + Eve lifted her head with a quick gesture—as if, in flinging off + discretion and silence, she appreciated to the full the new relief of + speech. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I knew. Perhaps I should have spoken when I first surprised the + secret, but it's all so past that it's useless to speculate now. It was + fate, I suppose. I was very young, you were very unapproachable, and—and + we had no love to make the way easy.” For a second her glance faltered and + she looked away. “A woman's—a girl's—disillusioning is a very + sad comedy—it should never have an audience.” She laughed a little + bitterly as she looked back again. “I saw all the deceits, all the + subterfuges, all the—lies.” She said the word deliberately, meeting + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Again he thought of Chilcote, but his face paled. + </p> + <p> + “I saw it all. I lived with it all till I grew hard and indifferent—till + I acquiesced in your 'nerves' as readily as the rest of the world that + hadn't suspected and didn't know.” Again she laughed nervously. “And I + thought the indifference would last forever. If one lives in a groove for + years, one gets frozen up; I never felt more frozen than on the night Mr. + Fraide spoke to me of you—asked me to use my influence; then, on + that night—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. On that night?” Loder's voice was tense. + </p> + <p> + But her excitement had suddenly fallen. Whether his glance had quelled it + or whether the force of her feelings had worked itself out it was + impossible to say, but her eyes had lost their resolution. She stood + hesitating for a moment, then she turned and moved to the mantel-piece. + </p> + <p> + “That night you found me—changed?” Loder was insistent. + </p> + <p> + “Changed—and yet not changed.” She spoke reluctantly, with averted + head. + </p> + <p> + “And what did you think?” + </p> + <p> + Again she was silent; then again a faint excitement tinged her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I thought—” she began. “It seemed—” Once more she paused, + hampered by her own uncertainty, her own sense of puzzling incongruity. “I + don't know why I speak like this,” she went on at last, as if in + justification of herself, “or why I want to speak. But a feeling—an + extraordinary, incomprehensible feeling seems to urge me on. The same + feeling that came to me on the day we had tea together—the feeling + that made me—that almost made me believe—” + </p> + <p> + “Believe what?” The words escaped him without volition. + </p> + <p> + At sound of his voice she turned. “Believe that a miracle had happened,” + she said—“that you had found strength—had freed yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “From morphia?” + </p> + <p> + “From morphia.” + </p> + <p> + In the silence that followed, Loder lived through a century of suggestion + and indecision. His first feeling was for himself, but his first clear + thought was for Chilcote and their compact. He stood, metaphorically, on a + stone in the middle of a stream, balancing on one foot, then the other; + looking to the right bank, then to the left. At last, as it always did, + inspiration came to him slowly. He realized that by one plunge he might + save both Chilcote and himself! + </p> + <p> + He crossed quickly to the fireplace and stood by Eve. “You were right in + your belief,” he said. “For all that time from the night you spoke to me + of Fraide to the day you had tea in this room—I never touched a + drug.” + </p> + <p> + She moved suddenly, and he saw her face. “John,” she said, unsteadily, + “you—I—I have known you to lie to me—about other + things.” + </p> + <p> + With a hasty movement he averted his head. The doubt, the appeal in her + words shocked him. The whole isolation of her life seemed summed up in the + one short sentence. For the instant he forgot Chilcote. With a reaction of + feeling he turned to her again. + </p> + <p> + “Look at me!” he said, brusquely. + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe I'm speaking the truth?” + </p> + <p> + She searched his eyes intently, the doubt and hesitancy still struggling + in her face. + </p> + <p> + “But the last three weeks?” she said, reluctantly. “How can you ask me to + believe?” + </p> + <p> + He had expected this, and he met it steadily enough; nevertheless his + courage faltered. To deceive this woman, even to justify himself, had in + the last halfhour become something sacrilegious. + </p> + <p> + “The last three weeks must be buried,” he said, hurriedly. “No man could + free himself suddenly from—from a vice.” He broke off abruptly. He + hated Chilcote; he hated himself. Then Eve's face, raised in distressed + appeal, overshadowed all scruples. “You have been silent and patient for + years,” he said, suddenly. “Can you be patient and silent a little + longer?” He spoke without consideration. He was conscious of no + selfishness beneath his words. In the first exercise of conscious strength + the primitive desire to reduce all elements to his own sovereignty + submerged every other emotion. “I can't enter into the thing,” he said; + “like you, I give no explanations. I can only tell you that on the day we + talked together in this room I was myself—in the full possession of + my reason, the full knowledge of my own capacities. The man you have known + in the last three weeks, the man you have imagined in the last four years, + is a shadow, an unreality—a weakness in human form. There is a new + Chilcote—if you will only see him.” + </p> + <p> + Ewe was trembling as he ceased; her face was flushed; there was a strange + brightness in her eyes She was moved beyond herself. + </p> + <p> + “But the other you—the old you?” + </p> + <p> + “You must be patient.” He looked down into the fire. “Times like the last + three weeks will come again—must come again; they are inevitable. + When they do come, you must shut your eyes—you must blind yourself. + You must ignore them—and me. Is it a compact?” He still avoided her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + She turned to him quietly. “Yes—if you wish it,” she said, below her + breath. + </p> + <p> + He was conscious of her glance, but he dared not meet it. He felt sick at + the part he was playing, yet he held to it tenaciously. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if you could do what few men and fewer women are capable of?” he + asked, at last. “I wonder if you could learn to live in the present?” He + lifted his head slowly and met her eyes. “This is an—an experiment,” + he went on. “And, like all experiments, it has good phases and bad. When + the bad phases come round I—I want you to tell yourself that you are + not altogether alone in your unhappiness—that I am suffering too—in + another way.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence when he had spoken, and for a space it seemed that Eve + would make no response. Then the last surprise in a day of surprises came + to him. With a slight stir, a slight, quick rustle of skirts, she stepped + forward and laid her hand in his. + </p> + <p> + The gesture was simple and very sweet; her eyes were soft and full of + light as she raised her face to his, her lips parted in unconscious + appeal. + </p> + <p> + There is no surrender so seductive as the surrender of a proud woman. + Loder's blood stirred, the undeniable suggestion of the moment thrilled + and disconcerted him in a tumult of thought. Honor, duty, principle rose + in a triple barrier; but honor, duty, and principle are but words to a + headstrong man. The full significance of his position came to him as it + had never come before. His hand closed on hers; he bent towards her, his + pulses beating unevenly. + </p> + <p> + “Eve!” he said. Then at sound of his voice he suddenly hesitated. It was + the voice of a man who has forgotten everything but his own existence. + </p> + <p> + For an instant he stayed motionless; then very quietly he drew away from + her, releasing her hands. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “No—I haven't got the right.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII + </h2> + <p> + That night, for almost the first time since he had adopted his dual role, + Loder slept ill. He was not a man over whom imagination held any powerful + sway—his doubts and misgivings seldom ran to speculation, upon + future possibilities; nevertheless, the fact that, consciously or + unconsciously, he had adopted a new attitude towards Eve came home to him + with unpleasant force during the hours of darkness; and long before the + first hint of daylight had slipped through the heavy window-curtains he + had arranged a plan of action—a plan wherein, by the simple method + of altogether avoiding her, he might soothe his own conscience and + safeguard Chilcote's domestic interests. + </p> + <p> + It was a satisfactory if a somewhat negative arrangement, and he rose next + morning with a feeling that things had begun to shape themselves. But + chance sometimes has a disconcerting knack of forestalling even our + best-planned schemes. He dressed slowly, and descended to his solitary + breakfast with the pleasant sensation of having put last night out of + consideration by the turning over of a new leaf; but scarcely had he + opened Chilcote's letters, scarcely had he taken a cursory glance at the + morning's newspaper, than it was borne in upon him that not only a new + leaf, but a whole sheaf of new leaves, had been turned in his prospects—by + a hand infinitely more powerful and arbitrary than his own. He realized + within the space of a few moments that the leisure Eve might have claimed, + the leisure he might have been tempted to devote to her, was no longer his + to dispose of—being already demanded of him from a quarter that + allowed of no refusal. + </p> + <p> + For the first rumbling of the political earthquake that was to shake the + country made itself audible beyond denial on that morning of March 27th, + when the news spread through England that, in view of the disorganized + state of the Persian army and the Shah's consequent inability to suppress + the open insurrection of the border tribes in the north-eastern districts + of Meshed, Russia, with a great show of magnanimity, had come to the + rescue by despatching a large armed force from her military station at + Merv across the Persian frontier to the seat of the disturbance. + </p> + <p> + To many hundreds of Englishmen who read their papers on that morning this + announcement conveyed but little. That there is such a country as Persia + we all know, that English interests predominate in the south and Russian + interests in the north we have all superficially understood from + childhood; but in this knowledge, coupled with the fact that Persia is + comfortably far away, we are apt to rest content. It is only to the eyes + that see through long-distance glasses, the minds that regard the present + as nothing more nor less than an inevitable link joining the future to the + past, that this distant, debatable land stands out in its true political + significance. + </p> + <p> + To the average reader of news the statement of Russia's move seemed + scarcely more important than had the first report of the border risings in + January, but to the men who had watched the growth of the disturbance it + came charged with portentous meaning. Through the entire ranks of the + opposition, from Fraide himself downward, it caused a thrill of + expectation—that peculiar prophetic sensation that every politician + has experienced at some moment of his career. + </p> + <p> + In no member of his party did this feeling strike deeper root than in + Loder. Imbued with a lifelong interest in the Eastern question, specially + equipped by personal knowledge to hold and proclaim an opinion upon + Persian affairs, he read the signs and portents with instinctive insight. + Seated at Chilcote's table, surrounded by Chilcote's letters and papers, + he forgot the breakfast that was slowly growing cold, forgot the interests + and dangers, personal or pleasurable, of the night before, while his + mental eyes persistently conjured up the map of Persia, travelling with + steady deliberation from Merv to Meshed, from Meshed to Herat, from Herat + to the empire of India! For it was not the fact that the Hazaras had risen + against the Shah that occupied the thinking mind, nor was it the fact that + Russian and not Persian troops were destined to subdue them, but the + deeply important consideration that an armed Russian force had crossed the + frontier and was encamped within twenty miles of Meshed-Meshed, upon which + covetous Russian eyes have rested ever since the days of Peter the Great. + </p> + <p> + So Loder's thoughts ran as he read and reread the news from the varying + political stand-points, and so they continued to run when, some hours + later, an urgent telephone message from the 'St. George's Gazette' asked + him to call at Lakely's office. + </p> + <p> + The message was interesting as well as imperative, and he made an instant + response. The thought of Lakely's keen eyes and shrewd enthusiasms always + possessed strong attractions for his own slower temperament, but even had + this impetus been lacking, the knowledge that at the 'St. George's' + offices, if anywhere, the true feelings of the party were invariably + voiced would have drawn him without hesitation. + </p> + <p> + It was scarcely twelve o'clock when he turned the corner of the tall + building, but already the keen spirit that Lakely everywhere diffused was + making itself felt. Loder smiled to himself as his eyes fell on the day's + placards with their uncompromising headings, and passed onward from the + string of gayly painted carts drawn up to receive their first consignment + of the paper to the troop of eager newsboys passing in and out of the big + swing-doors with their piled-up bundles of the early edition; and with a + renewed thrill of anticipation and energy he passed through the doorway + and ran up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + Passing unchallenged through the long corridor that led to Lakely's + office, he caught a fresh impression of action and vitality from the click + of the tape machines in the subeditors' office, and a glimpse through the + open door of the subeditors themselves, each occupied with his particular + task; then without time for further observation he found himself at + Lakely's door. Without waiting to knock, as he had felt compelled to do on + the one or two previous occasions that business had brought him there, he + immediately turned the handle and entered the room. + </p> + <p> + Editors' offices differ but little in general effect. + </p> + <p> + Lakely's surroundings were rather more elaborate than is usual, as became + the dignity of the oldest Tory evening paper, but the atmosphere was + unmistakable. As Loder entered he glanced up from the desk at which he was + sitting, but instantly returned to his task of looking through and marking + the pile of early evening editions that were spread around him. His coat + was off and hung on the chair behind him, axed he pulled vigorously on a + long cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo! That's right,” he said, laconically. “Make yourself comfortable + half a second, while I skim the 'St. Stephen's'.” + </p> + <p> + His salutation pleased Loder. With a nod of acquiescence he crossed the + office to the brisk fire that burned in, the grate. + </p> + <p> + For a minute or two Lakely worked steadily, occasionally breaking the + quiet by an unintelligible remark or a vigorous stroke of his pencil. At + last he dropped the paper with a gesture of satisfaction and leaned back + in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “what d'you think of this? How's this for a + complication?” + </p> + <p> + Loder turned round. “I think,” he said, quietly, “that we can't + overestimate it.” + </p> + <p> + Lakely laughed and took a long pull at his cigar. “And we mustn't be + afraid to let the Sefborough crowd know it, eh?” He waved his hand to the + poster of the first edition that hung before his desk. + </p> + <p> + Loder, following his glance, smiled. + </p> + <p> + Lakely laughed again. “They might have known it all along, if they'd cared + to deduce,” he said. “Did they really believe that Russia was going to sit + calmly looking across the Heri-Rud while the Shah played at mobilizing? + But what became of you last night? We had a regular prophesying of the + whole business at Bramfell's; the great Fraide looked in for five minutes. + I went on with him to the club afterwards and was there when the news came + in. 'Twas a great night!” + </p> + <p> + Loder's face lighted up. “I can imagine it,” he said, with an unusual + touch of warmth. + </p> + <p> + Lakely watched him intently for a moment. Then with a quick action he + leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. + </p> + <p> + “It's going to be something more than imagination for you, Chilcote,” he + said, impressively. “It's going to be solid earnest!” He spoke rapidly and + with rather more than his usual shrewd decisiveness; then he paused to see + the effect of his announcement. + </p> + <p> + Loder was still studying the flaring poster. At the other's words he + turned sharply. Something in Lakely's voice, something in his manner, + arrested him. A tinge of color crossed his face. + </p> + <p> + “Reality?” he said. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + For a further space his companion watched him; then with a rapid movement + he tilted back his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. “Yes; old Fraide's instincts are never far out. He's quite + right. You're the man!” + </p> + <p> + Still quietly, but with a strange underglow of excitement, Loder left the + fire, and, coming forward, took a chair at Lakely's desk. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind telling me what you're driving at?” he asked, in his old, + laconic voice. + </p> + <p> + Lakely still scrutinized him with an air of brisk satisfaction; then with + a gesture of finality he tossed his cigar away. + </p> + <p> + “My dear chap,” he said, “there's going to be a breach somewhere—and + Fraide says you're the man to step in and fill it! You see, five years + ago, when things looked lively on the Gulf and the Bundar Abbas business + came to light, you did some promising work; and a reputation like that + sticks to a man—even when he turns slacker! I won't deny that you've + slacked abominably,” he added, as Loder made an uneasy movement, “but + slacking has different effects. Some men run to seed, others mature. I had + almost put you down on the black list, but I've altered my mind in the + last two months.” + </p> + <p> + Again Loder stirred in his seat. A host of emotions were stirring in his + mind. Every word wrung from Lakely was another stimulus to pride, another + subtle tribute to the curious force of personality. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said. “Well?” + </p> + <p> + Lakely smiled. “We all know that Sefborough's ministry is—well, + top-heavy,” he said. “Sefborough is building his card house just a story + too high. It's a toss-up what 'll upset the balance. It might be the army, + of course, or it might be education; but it might quite as well be a + matter of foreign policy!” + </p> + <p> + They looked at each other in comprehensive silence. + </p> + <p> + “You know as well as I that it's not the question of whether Russia comes + into Persia, but the question of whether Russia goes out of Persia when + these Hazaras are subdued! I'll lay you what you like, Chilcote, that + within one week we hear that the risings are suppressed, but that Russia, + instead of retiring, has advanced those tempting twenty miles and + comfortably ensconced herself at Meshed—as she ensconced herself on + the island of Ashurada. Lakely's nervous, energetic figure was braced, his + light-blue eyes brightened, by the intensity of his interest. + </p> + <p> + “If this news comes before the Easter recess,” he went on, “the first nail + can be hammered in on the motion for adjournment. And if the right man + does it in the right way, I'll lay my life 'twill be a nail in + Sefborough's coffin.” + </p> + <p> + Loder sat very still. Overwhelming possibilities had suddenly opened + before him. In a moment the unreality of the past months had become real; + a tangible justification of himself and his imposture was suddenly made + possible. In the stress of understanding he, too, leaned forward, and, + resting his elbows on the desk, took his face between his hands. + </p> + <p> + For a space Lakely made no remark. To him man and man's moods came second + in interest to his paper and his party politics. That Chilcote should be + conscious of the glories he had opened up seemed only natural; that he + should show that consciousness in a becoming gravity seemed only right. + For some seconds he made no attempt to disturb him; but at last his own + irrepressible activity made silence unendurable. He caught up his pencil + and tapped impatiently on the desk. + </p> + <p> + “Chilcote,” he said, quickly and with a gleam of sudden anxiety, “you're + not by any chance doubtful of yourself?” + </p> + <p> + At sound of his voice Loder lifted his face; it was quite pale again, but + the energy and resolution that had come into it when Lakely first spoke + were still to be seen. + </p> + <p> + “No, Lakely,” he said, very slowly, “it's not the sort of moment in which + a man doubts himself.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX + </h2> + <p> + And so it came about that Loder was freed from one responsibility to + undertake another. From the morning of March 27th, when Lakely had + expounded the political programme in the offices of the 'St. George's + Gazette', to the afternoon of April 1st he found himself a central figure + in the whirlpool of activity that formed itself in Conservative circles. + </p> + <p> + With the acumen for which he was noted, Lakely had touched the key-stone + of the situation on that morning; and succeeding events, each fraught with + its own importance, had established the precision of his forecast. + </p> + <p> + Minutely watchful of Russia's attitude, Fraide quietly organized his + forces and strengthened his position with a statesmanlike grasp of + opportunity; and to Loder the attributes displayed by his leader during + those trying days formed an endless and absorbing study. Setting the + thought of Chilcote aside, ignoring his own position and the risks he + daily ran, he had fully yielded to the glamour of the moment, and in the + first freedom of a loose rein he had given unreservedly all that he + possessed of activity, capacity, and determination to the cause that had + claimed him. + </p> + <p> + Singularly privileged in a constant, personal contact with Fraide, he + learned many valuable lessons of tact and organization in those five vital + days during which the tactics of a whole party hung upon one item of news + from a country thousands of miles away. For should Russia subdue the + insurgent Hazaras and, laden with the honors of the peacemaker, retire + across the frontier, then the political arena would remain undisturbed; + but should the all-important movement predicted by Lakely become an + accepted fact before Parliament rose for the Easter recess, then the first + blow in the fight that would rage during the succeeding session must + inevitably be struck. In the mean time it was Fraide's difficult position + to wait and watch and yet preserve his dignity. + </p> + <p> + It was early in the afternoon of March 29th that Loder, in response to a + long-standing invitation, lunched quietly with the Fraides. Being delayed + by some communications from Wark, he was a few minutes late in keeping his + appointment, and on being shown into the drawing-room found the little + group of three that was to make up the party already assembled—Fraide, + Lady Sarah—and Eve. As he entered the room they ceased to speak, and + all three turned in his direction. + </p> + <p> + In the first moment he had a vague impression of responding suitably to + Lady Sarah's cordial greeting; but he knew that immediately and + unconsciously his eyes turned to Eve, while a quick sense of surprise and + satisfaction passed through him at sight of her. For an instant he + wondered how she would mark his avoidance of her since their last eventful + interview; then instantly he blamed himself for the passing doubt. For, + before all things, he knew her to be a woman of the world. + </p> + <p> + He took Fraide's outstretched hand; and again he looked towards Eve, + waiting for her to speak. + </p> + <p> + She met his glance, but said nothing. Instead of speaking she smiled at + him—a smile that was far more reassuring than any words, a smile + that in a single second conveyed forgiveness, approbation, and a warm, + almost tender sense of sympathy and comprehension. The remembrance of that + smile stayed with him long after they were seated at table; and far into + the future the remembrance of the lunch itself, with its pleasant private + sense of satisfaction, was destined to return to him in retrospective + moments. The delightful atmosphere of the Fraides' home life had always + been a wonder and an enigma to him; but on this day he seemed to grasp its + meaning by a new light, as he watched Eve soften under its influence and + felt himself drawn imperceptibly from the position of a speculative + outsider to that of an intimate. It was a fresh side to the complex, + fascinating life of which Fraide was the master spirit. + </p> + <p> + These reflections had grown agreeably familiar to his mind; the talk, + momentarily diverted into social channels, was quietly drifting back to + the inevitable question of the “situation” that in private moments was + never far from their lips, when the event that was to mark and separate + that day from those that had preceded it was unceremoniously thrust upon + them. + </p> + <p> + Without announcement or apology, the door was suddenly flung open and + Lakely entered the room. + </p> + <p> + His face was brimming with excitement, and his eyes flashed. In the first + haste of the entry he failed to see that there were ladies in the room, + And, crossing instantly to Fraide, laid an open telegram before him. + </p> + <p> + “This is official, sir,” he said. Then at last he glanced round the table. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Sarah!” he exclaimed. “Can you forgive me? But I'd have given a + hundred pounds to be the first with this!” He glanced back at Fraide. + </p> + <p> + Lady Sarah rose and stretched out her hand. “Mr. Lakely,” she said, “I + more than understand!” There was a thrill in her warm, cordial voice, and + her eyes also turned towards her husband. + </p> + <p> + Of the whole party, Fraide alone was perfectly calm. He sat very still, + his small, thin figure erect and dignified, as his eyes scanned the + message that meant so much. + </p> + <p> + Eve, who had sprung from her seat and passed round the table at sound of + Lakely's news, was leaning over his shoulder, reading the telegram with + him. At the last word she lifted her head, her face flushed with + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “How splendid it must be to be a man!” she exclaimed. And without + premeditation her eyes and Loder's met. + </p> + <p> + In this manner came the news from Persia, and with it Loder's definite + call. In the momentary stress of action it was impossible that any thought + of Chilcote could obtrude itself. Events had followed each other too + rapidly, decisive action had been too much thrust upon him, to allow of + hesitation; and it was in this spirit, under this vigorous pressure, that + he made his attack upon the government on the day that followed Fraide's + luncheon party. + </p> + <p> + That indefinable attentiveness, that alert sensation of impending storm. + that is so strong an index of the parliamentary atmosphere was very keen + on that memorable first of April. It was obvious in the crowded benches on + both sides of the House—in the oneness of purpose that insensibly + made itself felt through the ranks of the Opposition, and found definite + expression in Fraide's stiff figure and tightly shut lips—in the + unmistakable uneasiness that lay upon the ministerial benches. + </p> + <p> + But notwithstanding these indications of battle, the early portion of the + proceedings was unmarked by excitement, being tinged with the purposeless + lack of vitality that had of late marked all affairs of the Sefborough + Ministry; and it was not until the adjournment of the House for the Easter + recess had at last been moved that the spirit of activity hovering in the + air descended and galvanized the assembly into life. It was then, amid a + stir of interest, that Loder slowly rose. + </p> + <p> + Many curious incidents have marked the speech-making annals of the House + of Commons, but it is doubtful whether it has ever been the lot of a + member to hear his own voice raised for the first time on a subject of + vital interest to his party, having been denied all initial assistance of + minor questions asked or unimportant amendments made. Of all those + gathered together in the great building on that day, only one man + appreciated the difficulty of Loder's position—and that man was + Loder himself. + </p> + <p> + He rose slowly and stood silent for a couple of seconds, his body braced, + his fingers touching the sheaf of notes that lay in front of him. To the + waiting House the silence was effective. It might mean over-assurance, or + it might mean a failure of nerve at a critical moment. Either possibility + had a tinge of piquancy. Moved by the same impulse, fifty pairs o eyes + turned upon him with new interest; but up in the Ladies' Gallery Eve + clasped her hands in sudden apprehension; and Fraide, sitting stiffly in + his seat, turned and shot one swift glance at the man on whom, against + prudence and precedent, he had pinned his faith. The glance was swift but + very searching, and with a characteristic movement of his wiry shoulders + he resumed his position and his usual grave, attentive attitude. At the + same moment Loder lifted his head and began to speak. + </p> + <p> + Here at the outset his inexperience met him. His voice, pitched too low, + only reached those directly near him. It was a moment of great strain. + Eve, listening intently, drew a long breath of suspense and let her + fingers drop apart; the sceptical, watchful eyes that faced him, line upon + line, seemed to flash and brighten with critical interest; only Fraide + made no change of expression. He sat placid, serious, attentive, with the + shadow of a smile behind his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Again Loder paused, but this time the pause was shorter. The ordeal he had + dreaded and waited for was passed and he saw his way clearly. With the old + movement of the shoulders he straightened himself and once more began to + speak. This time his voice rang quietly true and commanding across the + floor of the House. + </p> + <p> + No first step can be really great; it must of necessity possess more of + prophecy than of achievement; nevertheless it is by the first step that a + man marks the value, not only of his cause, but of himself. Following + broadly on the lines that tradition has laid down for the Conservative + orator, Loder disguised rather than displayed the vein of strong, + persuasive eloquence that was his natural gift. The occasion that might + possibly justify such a display of individuality might lie with the + future, but it had no application to the present. For the moment his duty + was to voice his party sentiments with as much lucidity, as much logic, + and as much calm conviction as lay within his capacity. + </p> + <p> + Standing quietly in Chilcote's place, he was conscious with a deep sense + of gravity of the peculiarity of his position; and perhaps it was this + unconscious and unstudied seriousness that lent him the tone of weight and + judgment so essential to the cause he had in hand. It has always been + difficult to arouse the interest of the House on matters of British policy + in Persia. Once aroused, it may, it is true, reach fever heat with + remarkable rapidity, but the introductory stages offer that worst danger + to the earnest speaker—the dread of an apathetic audience. But from + this consideration Loder, by his sharp consciousness of personal + difficulties, was given immunity. + </p> + <p> + Pitching his voice in that quietly masterful tone that beyond all others + compels attention, he took up his subject and dealt with it with + dispassionate force. With great skill he touched on the steady southward + advance of Russia into Persian territory from the distant days when, by a + curious irony of fate, Russian and British enterprise combined to make + entry into the country under the sanction of the Grand-Duke of Moscovy, to + the present hour, when this great power of Russia—long since + alienated by interests and desires from her former co-operator—had + taken a step which in the eyes of every thinking man must possess a deep + significance. With quiet persistence he pointed out the peculiar position + of Meshed in the distant province of Khorasan; its vast distance from the + Persian Gulf, round which British interests and influence centre, and the + consequently alarming position of hundreds of traders who, in the security + of British sovereignty, are fighting their way upward from India, from + Afghanistan, even from England herself. + </p> + <p> + Following up his point, he dilated on these subjects of the British crown + who, cut off from adequate assistance, can only turn in personal or + commercial peril to the protective power of the nearest consulate. Then, + quietly demanding the attention of his hearers, he marshalled fact after + fact to demonstrate the isolation and inadequacy of a consulate so + situated; the all but arbitrary power of Russia, who in her new occupation + of Meshed had only two considerations to withhold her from open aggression—the + knowledge of England as a very considerable but also a very distant power; + the knowledge of Persia as an imminent but wholly impotent factor in the + case. + </p> + <p> + Having stated his opinions, he reverted to the motive of his speech—his + desire to put forward a strong protest against the adjournment of the + House without an assurance from the government that immediate measures + would be taken to safeguard British interests in Meshed and throughout the + province of Khorasan. + </p> + <p> + The immediate outcome of Loder's speech was all that his party had + desired. The effect on the House had been marked; and when, no + satisfactory response coming to his demand, he had in still more resolute + and insistent terms called for a division on the motion for adjournment, + the result had been an appreciable fall in the government majority. + </p> + <p> + To Loder himself, the realization that he had at last vindicated and + justified himself by individual action had a peculiar effect. His position + had been altered in one remarkable particular. Before this day he alone + had known himself to be strong; now the knowledge was shared by others and + he was human enough to be susceptible to the change. + </p> + <p> + The first appreciation of it came immediately after the excitement of the + division, when Fraide, singling him out, took his arm and pressed it + affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Chilcote,” he said, “we are all proud of you!” Then, looking up + into his face, he added, in a graver tone, “But keep your mind upon the + future; never be blinded by the present—however bright it seems.” + </p> + <p> + At the touch of his hand, at the spontaneous approval of his first words, + Loder's pride thrilled, and in a vehement rush of ambition his senses + answered to the praise. Then, as Fraide in all unconsciousness added his + second sentence, the hot glow of feeling suddenly chilled. In a sweep of + intuitive reaction the meaning and the danger of his falsely real position + extinguished his excitement and turned his triumph cold. With an + involuntary gesture he withdrew his arm. + </p> + <p> + “You're very good, sir,” he said. “And you're very right. We never should + forget that there is—a future.” + </p> + <p> + The old man glanced up, surprised by the tone. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, Chilcote,” he said, kindly. “But we only advise those in whom + we believe to look towards it. Shall we find my wife? I know she will want + to bear you home with us.” + </p> + <p> + But Loder's joy in himself and his achievement had dropped from him. He + shrank suddenly from Lady Sarah's congratulations and Eve's warm, silent + approbation. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, sir,” he said, “but I don't feel fit for society. A touch of my—nerves, + I suppose.” He laughed shortly. “But do you mind saying to Eve that I hope + I have—satisfied her?” he added this as if in half-reluctant + after-thought. Then, with a short pressure of Fraide's hand, he turned, + evading the many groups that waited to claim him, and passed out of the + House alone. + </p> + <p> + Hailing a cab, he drove to Grosvenor Square. All the exaltation of an hour + ago had turned to ashes. His excitement had found its culmination in a + sense of futility and premonition. + </p> + <p> + He met no one in the hall or on the stairs of Chilcote's house, and on + entering the study he found that also deserted. Greening had been among + the most absorbed of those who had listened to his speech. Passing at once + into the room, he crossed as if by instinct to the desk, and there halted. + On the top of some unopened letters lay the significant yellow envelope of + a telegram—the telegram that in an unformed, subconscious way had + sprung to his expectation on the moment of Fraide's congratulation. + </p> + <p> + Very quietly he picked it up, opened and read it, and, with the automatic + caution that had become habitual, carried it across the room and dropped + it in the fire. This done, he returned to the desk, read the letters that + awaited Chilcote, and, scribbling the necessary notes upon the margins, + left them in readiness for Greening. Then, moving with the same quiet + suppression, he passed from the room, down the stairs, and out into the + street by the way he had come. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX + </h2> + <p> + On the fifth day after the momentous 1st of April on which he had recalled + Loder and resumed his own life Chilcote left his house and walked towards + Bond Street. Though the morning was clear and the air almost warm for the + time of year, he was buttoned into a long overcoat and was wearing a + muffler and a pair of doeskin gloves. As he passed along the street he + kept close to the house fronts to avoid the sun that was everywhere + stirring the winterbound town, like a suffusion of young blood through old + veins. He avoided the warmth because in this instance warmth meant light, + but as he moved he shivered slightly from time to time with the haunting, + permeating cold that of late had become his persistent shadow. + </p> + <p> + He was ill at case as he hurried forward. With each succeeding day of the + old life the new annoyances, the new obligations became more hampering. + Before his compact with Loder this old life had been a net about his feet; + now the meshes seemed to have narrowed, the net itself to have spread till + it smothered his whole being. His own household—his own rooms, even—offered + no sanctuary. The presence of another personality tinged the atmosphere. + It was preposterous, but it was undeniable. The lay figure that he had set + in his place had proved to be flesh and blood—had usurped his life, + his position, his very personality, by sheer right of strength. As he + walked along Bond Street in the first sunshine of the year, jostled by the + well-dressed crowd, he felt a pariah. + </p> + <p> + He revolted at the new order of things, but the revolt was a silent + one-the iron of expediency had entered into his soul. He dared not + jeopardize Loder's position, because he dared not dispense with Loder. The + door that guarded his vice drew him more resistlessly with every + indulgence, and Loder's was the voice that called the “Open Sesame!” + </p> + <p> + He walked on aimlessly. He had been but five days at home, and already the + quiet, grass-grown court of Clifford's Inn, the bare staircase, the + comfortless privacy of Loder's rooms seemed a haven of refuge. The speed + with which this hunger had returned frightened him. + </p> + <p> + He walked forward rapidly and without encountering a check. Then, + suddenly, the spell was broken. From the slowly moving, brilliantly + dressed throng of people some one called him by his name; and turning he + saw Lillian Astrupp. + </p> + <p> + She was stepping from the door of a jeweller's, and as he turned she + paused, holding out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “The very person I would have wished to see!” she exclaimed. “Where have + you been these hundred years? I've heard of nobody but you since you've + turned politician and ceased to be a mere member of Parliament!” She + laughed softly. The laugh suited the light spring air, as she herself + suited the pleasant, superficial scene. + </p> + <p> + He took her hand and held it, while his eyes travelled from her delicate + face to her pale cloth gown, from her soft furs to the bunch of roses + fastened in her muff, The sight of her was a curious relief. Her cool, + slim fingers were so casual, yet so clinging, her voice and her presence + were so redolent of easy, artificial things. + </p> + <p> + “How well you look!” he said, involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + Again she laughed. “That's my prerogative,” she responded, lightly. “But I + was serious in being glad to see you. Sarcastic people are always so + intuitive. I'm looking for some one with intuition.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote glanced up. “Extravagant again?” he said, dryly. + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him sweetly. “Jack!” she murmured with slow reproach. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote laughed quickly. “I understand. You've changed your Minister of + Finance. I'm wanted in some other direction.” + </p> + <p> + This time her reproach was expressed by a glance. “You are always wanted,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + The words seemed to rouse him again to the shadowy self-distrust that the + sight of her had lifted. + </p> + <p> + “It's—it's delightful to meet you like this,” he began, “and I wish + the meeting wasn't momentary. But I'm—I'm rather pressed for time. + You must let me come round one afternoon—or evening, when you're + alone.” He fumbled for a moment with the collar of his coat, and glanced + furtively upward towards Oxford Street. + </p> + <p> + But again Lillian smiled—this time to herself. If she understood + anything on earth it was Chilcote and his moods. + </p> + <p> + “If one may be careless of anything, Jack,” she said, lightly, “surely + it's of time. I can imagine being pressed for anything else in the world. + If it's an appointment you're worrying about, a motor goes ever so much + faster than a cab—” She looked at him tentatively, her head slightly + on one side, her muff raised till the roses and some of the soft fur + touched her cheek. + </p> + <p> + She looked very charming and very persuasive as Chilcote glanced back. + Again she seemed to represent a respite—something graceful and + subtle in a world of oppressive obligations. His eyes strayed from her + figure to the smart motor-car drawn up beside the curb. + </p> + <p> + She saw the glance. “Ever so much quicker,” she insinuated; and, smiling + again, she stepped forward from the door of the shop. After a second's + indecision Chilcote followed her. + </p> + <p> + The waiting car had three seats—one in front for the chauffeur, two + vis-a-vis at the back, offering pleasant possibilities of a tete-a-tete. + </p> + <p> + “The Park—and drive slowly,” Lillian ordered, as she stepped inside, + motioning Chilcote to the seat opposite. + </p> + <p> + They moved up Bond Street smoothly and rapidly. Lillian was absorbed in + the passing traffic until the Marble Arch was reached; then, as they + glided through the big gates, she looked across at her companion. He had + turned up the collar of his coat, though the wind was scarcely + perceptible, and buried, himself in it to the ears. + </p> + <p> + “It is extraordinary!” she exclaimed, suddenly, as her eyes rested on his + face. It was seldom that she felt drawn to exclamation. She was usually + too indolent to show surprise. But now the feeling was called forth before + she was aware. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote looked up. “What's extraordinary?” he said, sensitively. + </p> + <p> + She leaned forward for an instant and touched his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Bear!” she said, teasingly. “Did I rub your fur the wrong way?” Then, + seeing his expression, she tactfully changed her tone. “I'll explain. It + was the same thing that struck me the night of Blanche's party—when + you looked at me over Leonard Kaine's head. You remember?” She glanced + away from him across the Park to where the grass was already showing + greener. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote felt ill at ease. Again he put his hand to his coat collar. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” he said, hastily—“yes.” He wished now that he had + questioned Loder more closely on the proceedings of that party. It seemed + to him, on looking back, that Loder had mentioned nothing on the day of + their last exchange but the political complications that absorbed his + mind. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't explain then,” Lillian went on. “I couldn't explain before a + crowd of people that it wasn't your dark head showing over Leonard's red + one that surprised me, but the most wonderful, the most extraordinary + likeness—” She paused. + </p> + <p> + The car was moving slower; there was a delight in the easy motion through + the fresh, early air. But Chilcote's uneasiness had been aroused. He no + longer felt soothed. + </p> + <p> + “What likeness?” he asked, sharply. + </p> + <p> + She turned to him easily. “Oh, a likeness I have noticed before,” she + said. “A likeness that always seemed strange, but that suddenly became + incredible at Blanche's party.” + </p> + <p> + He moved quickly. “Likenesses are an illusion,” he said, “a mere + imagination of the brain!” His manner was short; his annoyance seemingly + out of all proportion to its cause. Lillian looked at him afresh in + slightly interested surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Yet not so very long ago, you yourself—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” he broke in. “I've always denied likenesses. Such things don't + really exist. Likeness-seeing is purely an individual matter—a + preconception.” He spoke fast; he was uneasy under the cool scrutiny of + her green eyes. And with a sharp attempt at self-control and reassurance + he altered his voice. “After all, we're being very stupid!” he exclaimed. + “We're worrying over something that doesn't exist.” + </p> + <p> + Lillian was still lazily interested. To her own belief, she had seen + Chilcote last on the night of her sister's reception. Then she had been + too preoccupied to notice either his manner or his health, though + superficially it had lingered in her mind that he had seemed unusually + reliant, unusually well on that night. A remembrance of the impression + came to her now as she studied his face, upon which imperceptibly and yet + relentlessly his vice was setting its mark—in the dull restlessness + of eye, the unhealthy sallowness of skin. + </p> + <p> + Some shred of her thought, some suggestion of the comparison running + through her mind, must have shown in her face, for Chilcote altered his + position with a touch of uneasiness. He glanced away across the long sweep + of tan-covered drive stretching between the trees; then he glanced + furtively back. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-way,” he said, quickly, “you wanted me for something?” The memory + of her earlier suggestion came as a sudden boon. + </p> + <p> + She lifted her muff again and smelled her roses thoughtfully. “Oh, it was + nothing, really,” she said. “You sarcastic people give very shrewd + suggestions sometimes, and I've been rather wanting a suggestion on an—an + adventure that I've had.” She looked down at her flowers with a charmingly + attentive air. + </p> + <p> + But Chilcote's restlessness had increased. Looking up, she suddenly caught + the expression, and her own face changed. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Jack,” she said, softly, “what a bore I am! Let's forget tedious + things—and enjoy ourselves.” She leaned towards him caressingly with + an air of concern and reproach. + </p> + <p> + The action was not without effect. Her soothing voice, her smile, her + almost affectionate gesture, each carried weight. With a swift return of + assurance he responded to her tone. + </p> + <p> + “Right!” he said. “Right! We will enjoy ourselves!” He laughed quickly, + and again with a conscious movement lifted his hand to his muffler. + </p> + <p> + “Then we'll postpone the advice?” Lillian laughed, too. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Right! We'll postpone it.” The word pleased him and he caught at it. + “We won't bother about it now, but we won't shelve it altogether. We'll + postpone it.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” She settled herself more comfortably. “You'll dine with me one + night—and we can talk it out then. I see so little of you nowadays,” + she added, in a lower voice. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl, you're unfair!” Chilcote's spirits had risen; he spoke + rapidly, almost pleasantly. “It isn't I who keep away—it's the + stupid affairs of the world that keep me. I'd be with you every hour of + the twelve if I had my way.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at the bare trees. Her expression was a delightful mixture + of amusement, satisfaction, and scepticism. “Then you will dine?” she said + at last. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” His reaction to high spirits carried him forward. + </p> + <p> + “How nice! Shall we fix a day?” + </p> + <p> + “A day? Yes. Yes—if you like.” He hesitated for an instant, then + again the impulse of the previous moment dominated his other feeling. + “Yes,” he said, quickly. “Yes. After all, why not fix it now?” With a + sudden inclination towards amiability he opened his overcoat, thrust his + hand into an inner pocket, and drew out his engagement-book—the same + long, narrow book fitted with two pencils that Loder had scanned so + interestedly on his first morning at Grosvenor Square. He opened it, + turning the pages rapidly. “What day shall it be? Thursday's full—and + Friday—and Saturday. What a bore!” He still talked fast. + </p> + <p> + Lillian leaned across. “What a sweet book!” she said. “But why the blue + crosses?” She touched one of the pages with her gloved finger. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote jerked the book, then laughed with a touch of embarrassment. “Oh, + the crosses? Merely to remind me that certain 'appointments must be kept. + You know my beastly memory! But what about the day? Shall we fix the day?” + His voice was in control, but mentally her trivial question had disturbed + and jarred him. “What day shall we say?” he repeated. “Monday in next + week?” + </p> + <p> + Lillian glanced up with a faint exclamation of disappointment. “How + horribly faraway!” She spoke with engaging petulance, and, leaning forward + afresh, drew the book from Chilcote's hand. “What about to-morrow?” she + exclaimed, turning back a page. “Why not to-morrow? I knew I saw a blank + space.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow! Oh, I—I—” He stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Jack!” Her voice dropped. It was true that she desired Chilcote's opinion + on her adventure, for Chilcote's opinion on men and manners had a certain + bitter shrewdness; but the exercise of her own power added a point to the + desire. If the matter had ended with the gain or loss of a tete-a-tete + with him, it is probable that, whatever its utility, she would not have + pressed it, but the underlying motive was the stronger. Chilcote had been + a satellite for years, and it was unpleasant that any satellite should + drop away into space. + </p> + <p> + “Jack!” she said again, in a lower and still more effective tone; and, + lifting her muff, she buried her face in her flowers. “I suppose I shall + have to dine and go to a music-hall with Leonard—or stay at home by + myself,” she murmured, looking out across the trees. + </p> + <p> + Again Chilcote glanced over the long, tan-strewn ride. They had made the + full circuit of the park. + </p> + <p> + “It's tiresome being by one's self,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + For a while he was irresponsive, then slowly his eyes returned to her + face. He watched her for a second, and, leaning quickly towards her, he + took his book and scribbled something in the vacant space. + </p> + <p> + She watched him interestedly; her face lighted up, and she laid aside her + muff. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Jack!” she said. “How very sweet of you!” + </p> + <p> + Then, as he held the book towards her, her face fell. “Dine 33 Cadogan + Gardens, 8 o'c. Talk with L.,” she read. “Why, you've forgotten the + essential thing!” + </p> + <p> + He looked up. “The essential thing?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled. “The blue cross,” she said. “Isn't it worth even a little + one?” + </p> + <p> + The tone was very soft. Chilcote yielded. + </p> + <p> + “You have the blue pencil,” he said, in sudden response to her mood. + </p> + <p> + She glanced up in quiet pleasure at her Success, and, with a charming + affectation of seriousness, marked the engagement with a big cross. At the + same moment the car slackened speed, as the chauffeur waited for further + orders. + </p> + <p> + Lillian shut the engagement-book and handed it back. “Where can I drop + you?” she asked. “At the club?” + </p> + <p> + The question recalled him to a sense of present things. He thrust the book + into his pocket and glanced about him. + </p> + <p> + They had paused by Hyde Park corner. The crowd of horses and carriages had + thinned as the hour of lunch drew near, and the wide roadway of the park + had an air of added space. The suggested loneliness affected him. The tall + trees, still bereft of leaves, and the colossal gateway incomprehensively + stirred the sense of mental panic that sometimes seized him in face of + vastness of space or of architecture. In one moment, Lillian, the + appointment he had just made, the manner of its making—all left him. + The world was filled with his own personality, his own immediate + inclinations. + </p> + <p> + “Don't bother about me!” he said, quickly. “I can get out here. You've + been very good. It's been a delightful morning.” With a hurried pressure + of her fingers he rose and stepped from the car. + </p> + <p> + Reaching the ground, he paused for a moment and raised his hat; then, + without a second glance, he turned and walked rapidly away. + </p> + <p> + Lillian sat watching him meditatively. She saw him pass through the + gateway, saw him hail a hansom, then she remembered the waiting chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI + </h2> + <p> + On the same day that Chilcote had parted with Lillian—but at three + o'clock in the afternoon—Loder, dressed in Chilcote's clothes and + with Chilcote's heavy overcoat slung over his arm, walked from Fleet + Street to Grosvenor Square. He walked steadily, neither slowly nor yet + fast. The elation of his last journey over the same ground was tempered by + feelings he could not satisfactorily bracket even to himself. There was + less of vehement elation and more of matured determination in his gait and + bearing than there had been on that night, though the incidents of which + they were the outcome were very complex. + </p> + <p> + On reaching Chilcote's house he passed up-stairs; but, still following the + routine of his previous return, he did not halt at Chilcote's door, but + moved onward towards Eve's sitting-room and there paused. + </p> + <p> + In that pause his numberless irregular thoughts fused into one. + </p> + <p> + He had the same undefined sense of standing upon sacred ground that had + touched him on the previous occasion, but the outcome of the sensation was + different. This time he raised his hand almost immediately and tapped on + the door. + </p> + <p> + He waited, but no voice responded to his knock. With a sense of + disappointment he knocked again; then, pressing his determination still + further, he turned the handle and entered the room. + </p> + <p> + No private room is without meaning—whether trivial or the reverse. + In a room, perhaps more even than in speech, in look, or in work, does the + impress of the individual make itself felt. There, on the wax of outer + things, the inner self imprints its seal-enforces its fleeting claim to + separate individuality. This thought, with its arresting interest, made + Loder walk slowly, almost seriously, half-way across the room and then + pause to study his surroundings. + </p> + <p> + The room was of medium size—not too large for comfort and not too + small for ample space. At a first impression it struck him as unlike any + anticipation of a woman's sanctum. The walls panelled in dark wood; the + richly bound books; the beautifully designed bronze ornaments; even the + flowers, deep crimson and violet-blue in tone, had an air of sombre + harmony that was scarcely feminine. With a strangely pleasant impression + he realized this, and, following his habitual impulse, moved slowly + forward towards the fireplace and there paused, his elbow resting on the + mantel-piece. + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely settled comfortably into his position, scarcely entered on + his second and more comprehensive study of the place, than the arrangement + of his mind was altered by the turning of the handle and the opening of + the door. + </p> + <p> + The new-comer was Eve herself. She was dressed in outdoor clothes, and + walked into the room quickly; then, as Loder had done, she too paused. + </p> + <p> + The gesture, so natural and spontaneous, had a peculiar attraction; as she + glanced up at him, her face alight with inquiry, she seemed + extraordinarily much the owner and designer of her surroundings. She was + framed by them as naturally and effectively as her eyes and her face were + framed by her black hair. For one moment he forgot that his presence + demanded explanation; the next she had made explanation needless. She had + been looking at him intently; now she came forward slowly. + </p> + <p> + “John?” she said, half in appeal, half in question. + </p> + <p> + He took a step towards her. “Look at me,” he said, quietly and + involuntarily. In the sharp desire to establish himself in her regard he + forgot that her eyes had never left his face. + </p> + <p> + But the incongruity of the words did not strike her. “Oh!” she exclaimed, + “I—I believe I <i>knew</i>, directly I saw you here.” The quick ring + of life vibrating in her tone surprised him. But he had other thoughts + more urgent than surprise. + </p> + <p> + In the five days of banishment just lived through, the need for a + readjustment of his position with regard to her had come to him forcibly. + The memory of the night when weakness and he had been at perilously close + quarters had returned to him persistently and uncomfortably, spoiling the + remembrance of his triumph. It had been well enough to smother the thought + of that night in days of work. But had the ignoring of it blotted out the + weakness? Had it not rather thrown it into bolder relief? A man strong in + his own strength does not turn his back upon temptation; he faces and + quells it. In the solitary days in Clifford's Inn, in the solitary + night-hours spent in tramping the city streets, this had been the + conviction that had recurred again and again, this the problem to which, + after much consideration, he had found a solution—satisfactory at + least to himself. When next Chilcote called him—It was notable that + he had used the word “when” and not “if.” When next Chilcote called him he + would make a new departure. He would no longer avoid Eve; he would + successfully prove to himself that one interest and one alone filled his + mind—the pursuance of Chilcote's political career. So does man + satisfactorily convince himself against himself. He had this intention + fully in mind as he came forward now. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, slowly, “has it been very hard to have faith—these + last five days?” It was not precisely the tone he had meant to adopt; but + one must begin. + </p> + <p> + Eve turned at his words. Her eyes were brimming with life, her cheeks + still touched to a deep, soft color by the keenness of the wintry air. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered, with a shy, responsive touch of confidence. “I seemed + to keep on believing. You know converts make the best devotees.” She + laughed with slight embarrassment, and glanced up at him. Something in the + blue of her eyes reminded him unexpectedly of spring skies—full of + youth and promise. + </p> + <p> + He moved abruptly, and crossed the room towards the window. “Eve,” he + said, without looking round, “I want your help.” + </p> + <p> + He heard the faint rustling of her dress as she turned towards him, and he + knew that he had struck the right chord. All true women respond to an + appeal for aid as steel answers to the magnet. He could feel her + expectancy in the silence. + </p> + <p> + “You know—we all know—that the present moment is very vital. + That it's impossible to deny the crisis in the air. Nobody feels it more + than I do—nobody is more exorbitantly keen to have a share—a + part, when the real fight comes—” He stopped; then he turned slowly + and their eyes met. “If a man is to succeed in such a desire,” he went on, + deliberately, “he must exclude all others—he must have one purpose, + one interest, one thought. He must forget that—” + </p> + <p> + Eve lifted her head quickly. “—that he has a wife,” she finished, + gently. “I think I understand.” + </p> + <p> + There was no annoyance in her face or voice, no suggestion of selfishness + or of hurt vanity. She had read his meaning with disconcerting clearness, + and responded with disconcerting generosity. A sudden and very human + dissatisfaction with his readjustment scheme fell upon Loder. Opposition + is the whip to action; a too-ready acquiescence the slackened rein. + </p> + <p> + “Did I say that?” he asked, quickly. The tone was almost Chilcote's. + </p> + <p> + She glanced up; then a sudden, incomprehensible smile lighted up her face. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't say, but you thought,” she answered, gravely. “Thoughts are + the same as words to a woman. That's why we are so unreasonable.” Again + she smiled. Some idea, baffling and incomprehensible to Loder, was + stirring in her mind. + </p> + <p> + Conscious of the impression, he moved still nearer. “You jump to + conclusions,” he said, abruptly. “What I meant to imply—” + </p> + <p> + “—was precisely what I've understood.” Again she finished his + sentence. Then she laughed softly. “How very wise, but how very, very + foolish men are! You come to the conclusion that because a woman is—is + interested in you she is going to hamper you in some direction, and after + infinite pains you summon all your tact and you set about saving the + situation.” + </p> + <p> + There was interest, even a touch of amusement, in her tone, her eyes were + still fixed upon his in an indefinable glance. “You think you are being + very diplomatic,” she went on, quietly, “but in reality you are being very + transparent. The woman reads the whole of your meaning in your very first + sentence—if she hasn't known it before you began to speak.” + </p> + <p> + Again Loder made an interruption, but again she checked him. “No,” she + said, still smiling. “You should never attempt such a task. Shall I tell + you why?” + </p> + <p> + He stood silent, puzzled and interested. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” she said, quickly, “when a woman really is—interested, + the man's career ranks infinitely higher in her eyes than any personal + desire for power.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment their eyes met, then abruptly Loder looked away. She had + gauged his intentions incorrectly, yet with disconcerting insight. Again + the suggestion of an unusual personality below the serenity of her manner + recurred to his imagination. + </p> + <p> + With an impulse altogether foreign to him he lifted his head and again met + her glance. Then at last he spoke, but only two words. “Forgive me!” he + said, with simple, direct sincerity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII + </h2> + <p> + After his interview with Eve, Loder retired to the study and spent the + remaining hours of the day and the whole span of the evening in work. At + one o'clock, still feeling fresh in mind and body, he dismissed Greening + and passed into Chilcote's bedroom. The interview with Eve, though widely + different from the one he had anticipated, had left him stimulated and + alert. In the hours that followed it there had been an added anxiety to + put his mind into harness, an added gratification in finding it answer to + the rein. + </p> + <p> + A pleasant sense of retrospection settled upon him as he slowly undressed; + and a pleasant sense of interest touched him as, crossing to the + dressing-table, he caught sight of Chilcote's engagement-book—taken + with other things from the suit he had changed at dinner-time and + carefully laid aside by Renwick. + </p> + <p> + He picked it up and slowly turned the pages. It always held the suggestion + of a lottery—this dipping into another man's engagements and drawing + a prize or a blank. It was a sensation that even custom had not dulled. + </p> + <p> + At first he turned the pages slowly, then by degrees his fingers + quickened. Beyond the fact that this present evening was free, he knew + nothing of his promised movements. The abruptness of Chilcote's arrival at + Clifford's Inn in the afternoon had left no time for superfluous + questions. He skimmed the writing with a touch of interested haste, then + all at once he paused and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Big enough for a tombstone!” he said below his breath as his eyes rested + on a large blue cross. Then he smiled again and held the book to the + light. + </p> + <p> + “Dine 33 Cadogan Gardens, 8 o'c. Talk with L,” he read, still speaking + softly to himself. + </p> + <p> + He stood for a moment pondering on the entry, then once more his glance + reverted to the cross. + </p> + <p> + “Evidently meant it to be seen,” he mused; “but why the deuce isn't he + more explicit?” As he spoke, a look of comprehension suddenly crossed his + face and the puzzled frown between his eyebrows cleared away. + </p> + <p> + With a feeling of satisfaction he remembered Lakely's frequent and + pressing suggestion that he should dine with him at Cadogan Gardens and + discuss the political outlook. + </p> + <p> + Lakely must have written during his absence, and Chilcote, having marked + the engagement, felt no further responsibility. The invitation could + scarcely have been verbal, as Chilcote, he knew, had lain very low in the + five days of his return home. + </p> + <p> + So he argued, as he stood with the book still open in his hands, the blue + cross staring imperatively from the white paper. And from the argument + rose thoughts and suggestions that seethed in his mind long after the + lights had been switched off, long after the fire had died down and he had + been left wrapped in darkness in the great canopied bed. + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that he took his second false step. Once during the + press of the next morning's work it crossed his mind to verify his + convictions by a glance at the directory. But for once the strong wish + that evolves a thought conquered his caution. His work was absorbing; the + need of verification seemed very small. He let the suggestion pass. + </p> + <p> + At seven o'clock he dressed carefully. His mind was full of Lakely and of + the possibilities the night might hold; for more than once before, the + weight of the 'St. George's Gazette', with Lakely at its back, had turned + the political scales. To be marked by him as a coming man was at any time + a favorable portent; to be singled out by him at the present juncture was + momentous. A thrill of expectancy, almost of excitement, passed through + him as he surveyed his appearance preparatory to leaving the house. + </p> + <p> + Passing down-stairs, he moved at once to the hall door; but almost as his + hand touched it he halted, attracted by a movement on the landing above + him. Turning, he saw Eve. + </p> + <p> + She was standing quite still, looking down upon him as she had looked once + before. As their eyes met, she changed her position hastily. + </p> + <p> + “You are going out?” she asked. And it struck Loder quickly that there was + a suggestion, a shadow of disappointment in the tone of her voice. Moved + by the impression, he responded with unusual promptness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. “I'm dining out—dining with Lakely.” + </p> + <p> + She watched him intently while he spoke; then, as the meaning of his words + reached her, her whole face brightened. + </p> + <p> + “With Mr. Lakely?” she said. “Oh, I'm glad—very glad. It is quite—quite + another step.” She smiled with a warm, impulsive touch of sympathy. + </p> + <p> + Loder, looking up at her, felt his senses stir. At sound of her words his + secret craving for success quickened to stronger life. The man whose sole + incentive lies within may go forward coldly and successfully; but the man + who grasps a double inspiration, who, even unconsciously, is impelled by + another force, has a stronger impetus for attack, a surer, more vital + hewing power. Still watching her, he answered instinctively— + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, slowly, “a long step.” And, with a smile of farewell, he + turned, opened the door, and passed into the road. + </p> + <p> + The thrill of that one moment was still warm as he reached Cadogan Gardens + and mounted the steps of No. 33—so vitally warm that he paused for + an instant before pressing the electric bell. Then at last, dominated by + anticipation, he turned and raised his hand. + </p> + <p> + The action was abrupt, and it was only as his fingers pressed the bell + that a certain unexpectedness, a certain want of suitability in the aspect + of the house, struck him. The door was white, the handle and knocker were + of massive silver. The first seemed a disappointing index of Lakely's + private taste, the second a ridiculous temptation to needy humanity. He + looked again at the number of the house, but it stared back at him + convincingly. Then the door opened. + </p> + <p> + So keen was his sense of unfitness that, still trying to fuse his + impression of Lakely with the idea of silver door-fittings, he stepped + into the hall without the usual preliminary question. Suddenly realizing + the necessity, he turned to the servant; but the man forestalled him: + </p> + <p> + “Will you come to the white room, sir? And may I take your coat?” + </p> + <p> + The smooth certainty of the man's manner surprised him. It held another + savor of disappointment—seeming as little in keeping with the keen, + business-like Lakely as did the house. Still struggling with his + impression, he allowed himself to be relieved of his hat and coat and in + silence ushered up the shallow staircase. + </p> + <p> + As the last step was reached it came to him again to mention his host's + name; but simultaneously with the suggestion the servant stepped forward + with a quick, silent movement and threw open a door. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Chilcote!” he announced, in a subdued, discreet voice. + </p> + <p> + Loder's first impression was of a room that seemed unusually luxurious, + soft, and shadowed. Then all impression of inanimate things left him + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + For the fraction of a second he stood in the door-way, while the room + seemed emptied of everything, except a figure that rose slowly from a + couch before the fire at sound of Chilcote's name; then, with a calmness + that to himself seemed incredible, he moved forward into the room. + </p> + <p> + He might, of course, have beaten a retreat and obviated many things; but + life is full of might-have-beens, and retreat never presents itself + agreeably to a strong man. His impulse was to face the difficulty, and he + acted on the impulse. + </p> + <p> + Lillian had risen slowly; and as he neared her she held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Jack!” she exclaimed, softly. “How sweet of you to remember!” + </p> + <p> + The voice and words came to him with great distinctness, and as they came + one uncertainty passed forever from his mind—the question as to what + relation she and Chilcote held to each other. With the realization came + the thought of Eve, and in the midst of his own difficulty his face + hardened. + </p> + <p> + Lillian ignored the coldness. Taking his hand, she smiled. “You're + unusually punctual,” she said. “But your hands are cold. Come closer to + the fire.” + </p> + <p> + Loder was not sensible that his hands were cold, but he suffered himself + to be drawn forward. + </p> + <p> + One end of the couch was in firelight, the other in shadow. By a fortunate + arrangement of chance Lillian selected the brighter end for herself and + offered the other to her guest. With a quick sense of respite he accepted + it. At least he could sit secure from detection while he temporized with + fate. + </p> + <p> + For a moment they sat silent, then Lillian stirred. “Won't you smoke?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + Everything in the room seemed soft and enervating—the subdued glow + of the fire, the smell of roses that hung about the air, and, last of all, + Lillian's slow, soothing voice. With a sense of oppression he stiffened + his shoulders and sat straighter in his place. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I don't think I shall smoke.” + </p> + <p> + She moved nearer to him. “Dear Jack,” she said, pleadingly, “don't say + you're in a bad mood. Don't say you want to postpone again.” She looked up + at him and laughed a little in mock consternation. + </p> + <p> + Loder was at a loss. + </p> + <p> + Another silence followed, while Lillian waited; then she frowned suddenly + and rose from the couch. Like many indolent people, she possessed a touch + of obstinacy; and now that her triumph over Chilcote was obtained, now + that she had vindicated her right to command him, her original purpose + came uppermost again. Cold or interested, indifferent or attentive, she + intended to make use of him. + </p> + <p> + She moved to the fire and stood looking down into it. + </p> + <p> + “Jack,” she began, gently, “a really amazing thing has happened to me. I + do so want you to throw some light.” + </p> + <p> + Loder said nothing. + </p> + <p> + There was a fresh pause while she softly smoothed the silk embroidery that + edged her gown. Then once more she looked up at him. + </p> + <p> + “Did I ever tell you,” she began, “that I was once in a railway accident + on a funny little Italian railway, centuries before I met you?” She + laughed softly; and with a pretty air of confidence turned from the fire + and resumed her seat. + </p> + <p> + “Astrupp had caught a fever in Florence, and I was rushing away for fear + of the infection, when our stupid little train ran off the rails near + Pistoria and smashed itself up. Fortunately we were within half a mile of + a village, so we weren't quite bereft. The village was impossibly like a + toy village, and the accommodation what one would expect in a Noah's Ark, + but it was all absolutely picturesque. I put up at the little inn with my + maid and Ko Ko—Ko Ko was such a sweet dog—a white poodle. I + was tremendously keen on poodles that year.” She stopped and looked + thoughtfully towards the fire. + </p> + <p> + “But to come to the point of the story, Jack, the toy village had a boy + doll!” She laughed again. “He was an Englishman—and the first person + to come to my rescue on the night of the smash-up. He was staying at the + Noah's Ark inn; and after that first night I—he—we—Oh, + Jack, haven't you any imagination?” Her voice sounded petulant and sharp. + The man who is indifferent to the recital of an old love affair implies + the worst kind of listener. “I believe you aren't interested,” she added, + in another and more reproachful tone. + </p> + <p> + He leaned forward. “You're wrong there,” he said, slowly. “I'm deeply + interested.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at him again. His tone reassured her, but his words left her + uncertain; Chilcote was rarely emphatic. With a touch of hesitation she + went on with her tale: + </p> + <p> + “As I told you, he was the first to find us—to find me, I should + say, for my stupid maid was having hysterics farther up the line, and Ko + Ko was lost. I remember the first thing I did was to send him in search of + Ko Ko—” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding his position, Loder found occasion to smile. “Did he + succeed?” he said, dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Succeed? Oh yes, he succeeded.” She also smiled involuntarily. “Poor Ko + Ko was stowed away under the luggage-van; and after quite a lot of trouble + he pulled him out. When it was all done the dog was quite unhurt and + livelier than ever, but the Englishman had his finger almost bitten + through. Ko Ko was a dear, but his teeth and his temper were both very + sharp!” She laughed once more in soft amusement. + </p> + <p> + Loder was silent for a second, then he too laughed—Chilcote's short, + sarcastic laugh. “And you tied up the wound, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + She glanced up, half displeased. “We were both staying at the little inn,” + she said, as though no further explanation could be needed. Then again her + manner changed. She moved imperceptibly nearer and touched his right hand. + His left, which was farther away from her, was well in the shadow of the + cushions. + </p> + <p> + “Jack,” she said, caressingly, “it isn't to tell you this stupid old story + that I've brought you here; it's really to tell you a sort of sequel.” She + stroked his hand gently once or twice. “As I say, I met this man and we—we + had an affair. You understand? Then we quarrelled—quarrelled quite + badly—and I came away. I've remembered him rather longer than I + remember most people—he was one of those dogged individuals who + stick in one's mind. But he has stayed in mine for another reason—” + Again she looked up. “He has stayed because you helped to keep him there. + You know how I have sometimes put my hands over your mouth and told you + that your eyes reminded me of some one else? Well, that some one else was + my Englishman. But you mustn't be jealous; he was a horrid, obstinate + person, and you—well, you know what I think of you—” She + pressed his hand. “But to come to the end of the story, I never saw this + man since that long-ago time, until—until the night of Blanche's + party!” She spoke slowly, to give full effect to her words; then she + waited for his surprise. + </p> + <p> + But the result was not what she expected. He said nothing; and, with an + abrupt movement, he drew his hand from between hers. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you surprised?” she asked at last, with a delicate note of + reproof. + </p> + <p> + He started slightly, as if recalled to the necessity of the moment. + “Surprised?” he said. “Why should I be surprised? One person more or less + at a big party isn't astonishing. Besides, you expect a man to turn up + sooner or later in his own country. Why should I be surprised?” + </p> + <p> + She lay back luxuriously. “Because, my dear boy,” she said, softly, “it's + a mystery! It's one of those fascinating mysteries that come once in a + lifetime.” + </p> + <p> + Loder made no movement. “You must explain,” he said, very quietly. + </p> + <p> + Lillian smiled. “That's just what I want to do. When I was in my tent on + the night of Blanche's party, a man came to be gazed for. He came just + like anybody else, and laid his hands upon the table. He had strong, thin + hands like—well, rather like yours But he wore two rings on the + third finger of his left hand—a heavy signet-ring and a plain gold + one.” + </p> + <p> + Loder moved his hand imperceptibly till the cushion covered it. Lillian's + words caused him no surprise, scarcely even any trepidation. He felt now + that he had expected them, even waited for them, all along. + </p> + <p> + “I asked him to, take off his rings,” she went on, “and just for a second + he hesitated—I could feel him hesitate; then he seemed to make up + his mind, for he drew them off. He drew them off, Jack, and guess what I + saw! Do guess!” + </p> + <p> + For the first time Loder involuntarily drew back into his corner of the + couch. “I never guess,” he said, brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll tell you. His hands were the hands of my Englishman! The rings + covered the scar made by Ko Ko's teeth. I knew it instantly—the + second my eyes rested on it. It was the same scar that I had bound up + dozens of times—that I had seen healed before I left Santasalare.” + </p> + <p> + “And you? What did you do?” Loder felt it singularly difficult and + unpleasant to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that's the point. That's where I was stupid and made my mistake. I + should have spoken to him on the moment, but I didn't. You know how one + sometimes hesitates. Afterwards it was too late.” + </p> + <p> + “But you saw him afterwards—in the rooms?” Loder spoke unwillingly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't—that's the other point. I didn't see him in the rooms, + and I haven't seen him since. Directly he was gone, I left the tent—I + pretended to be hungry and bored; but, though I went through every room, + he was nowhere to be found. Once—” she hesitated and laughed again—“once + I thought I had found him, but it was only you—you, as you stood in + that door-way with your mouth and chin hidden by Leonard Kaine's head. + Wasn't it a quaint mistake?” + </p> + <p> + There was an uncertain pause. Then Loder, feeling the need of speech, + broke the silence suddenly. “Where do I come in?” he asked abruptly. “What + am I wanted for?” + </p> + <p> + “To help to throw light on the mystery! I've seen Blanche's list of + people, and there wasn't a man I couldn't place—no outsider ever + squeezes through Blanche's door. I have questioned Bobby Blessington, but + he can't remember who came to the tent last. And Bobby was supposed to + have kept count!” She spoke in deep scorn; but almost immediately the + scorn faded and she smiled again. “Now that I've explain ed, Jack,” she + added, “what do you suggest?” + </p> + <p> + Then for the first time Loder knew what his presence in the room really + meant; and at best the knowledge was disconcerting. It is not every day + that a man is called upon to unearth himself. + </p> + <p> + “Suggest?” he repeated, blankly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'd rather have your idea of the affair than anybody else's. You are + so dear and sarcastic and keen that you can't help getting straight at the + middle of a fact.” + </p> + <p> + When Lillian wanted anything she could be very sweet. She suddenly dropped + her half-petulant tone; she suddenly ceased to be a spoiled child. With a + perfectly graceful movement she drew quite close to Loder and slid gently + to her knees. + </p> + <p> + This is an attitude that few women can safely assume; it requires all the + attributes of youth, suppleness, and a certain buoyant ease. But Lillian + never acted without justification, and as she leaned towards Loder her + face lifted, her slight figure and pale hair softened by the firelight, + she made a picture that it would have been difficult to criticise. + </p> + <p> + But the person who should have appreciated it stared steadily beyond it to + the fire. His mind was absorbed by one question—the question of how + he might reasonably leave the house before discovery became assured. + </p> + <p> + Lillian, attentively watchful of him, saw the uneasy look, and her own + face fell. But, as she looked, an inspiration came to her—a + remembrance of many interviews with Chilcote smoothed and facilitated by + the timely use of tobacco. + </p> + <p> + “Jack,” she said, softly, “before you say another word I insist on your + lighting a cigarette.” She leaned forward. resting against his knee. + </p> + <p> + At her words Loder's eyes left the fire. His attention was suddenly needed + for a new and more imminent difficulty. “Thanks!” he said, quickly. “I + have no wish to smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't a matter of what you wish but of what I say.” She smiled. She + knew that Chilcote with a cigarette between his lips was infinitely more + tractable than Chilcote sitting idle, and she had no intention of ignoring + the knowledge. + </p> + <p> + But Loder caught at her words. “Before you ordered me to smoke,” he said, + “you told me to give you some advice. Your first command must have prior + claim.” He grasped unhesitatingly at the less risky theme. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him. “You're always nicer when you smoke,” she persisted, + caressingly. “Light a cigarette—and give me one.” + </p> + <p> + Loder's mouth became set. “No,” he said, “we'll stick to this advice + business. It interests me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “No, now. You want to find out why this Englishman from Italy was at your + sister's party, and why he disappeared?” + </p> + <p> + There are times when a malignant obstinacy seems to affect certain people. + The only answer Lillian made was to pass her hand over Loder's waistcoat, + and, feeling his cigarette-case, to draw it from the pocket. + </p> + <p> + He affected not to see it. “Do you think he recognized you in that tent?” + he insisted, desperately. + </p> + <p> + She held out the case. “Here are your cigarettes. You know we're always + more social when we smoke.” + </p> + <p> + In the short interval while she looked up into his face several ideas + passed through Loder's mind. He thought of standing up suddenly and so + regaining his advantage; he wondered quickly whether one hand could + possibly suffice for the taking out and lighting of two cigarettes. Then + all need for speculation was pushed suddenly aside. + </p> + <p> + Lillian, looking into his face, saw his fresh look of disturbance, and + from long experience again changed her tactics. Laying the cigarette-case + on the couch, she put one hand on his shoulder, the other on his left arm. + Hundreds of times this caressing touch had quieted Chilcote. + </p> + <p> + “Dear old boy!” she said, soothingly, her hand moving slowly down his arm. + </p> + <p> + In a flash of understanding the consequences of this position came to him. + Action was imperative, at whatever risk. With an abrupt gesture he rose. + </p> + <p> + The movement was awkward. He got to his feet precipitately; Lillian drew + back, surprised and startled, catching involuntarily at his left hand to + steady her position. + </p> + <p> + Her fingers grasped at, then held his. He made no effort to release them. + With a dogged acknowledgment, he admitted himself worsted. + </p> + <p> + How long she stayed immovable, holding his hand, neither of them knew. The + process of a woman's instinct is so subtle, so obscure, that it would be + futile to apply to it the commonplace test of time. She kept her hold + tenaciously, as though his fingers possessed some peculiar virtue; then at + last she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Rings, Jack?” she said, very slowly. And under the two short words a + whole world of incredulity and surmise made itself felt. + </p> + <p> + Loder laughed. + </p> + <p> + At the sound she dropped his hand and rose from her knees. What her + suspicions, what her instincts were she could not have clearly defined, + but her action was unhesitating. Without a moment's uncertainty she turned + to the fireplace, pressed the electric button, and flooded the room with + light. + </p> + <p> + There is no force so demoralizing as unexpected light. Loder took a step + backward, his hand hanging unguarded by his side; and Lillian, stepping + forward, caught it again before he could protest. Lifting it quickly, she + looked scrutinizingly at the two rings. + </p> + <p> + All women jump to conclusions, and it is extraordinary how seldom they + jump short. Seeing only what Lillian saw, knowing only what she knew, no + man would have staked a definite opinion; but the other sex takes a + different view. As she stood gazing at the rings her thoughts and her + conclusions sped through her mind like arrows—all aimed and all + tending towards one point. She remembered the day when she and Chilcote + had talked of doubles, her scepticism and his vehement defence of the + idea; his sudden interest in the book 'Other Men's Shoes', and his + anathema against life and its irksome round of duties. She remembered her + own first convinced recognition of the eyes that had looked at her in the + doorway of her sister's house; and, last of all, she remembered Chilcote's + unaccountable avoidance of the same subject of likenesses when she had + mentioned it yesterday driving through the Park—and with it his + unnecessarily curt repudiation of his former opinions. She reviewed each + item, then she raised her head slowly and looked at Loder. + </p> + <p> + He was prepared for the glance and met it steadily. + </p> + <p> + In the long moment that her eyes searched his face it was she and not he + who changed color. She was the first to speak. “You were the man whose + hands I saw in the tent,” she said. She made the statement in her usual + soft tones, but a slight tremor of excitement underran her voice. Poodles, + Persian kittens, even crystal gazing-balls, seemed very far away in face + of this tangible, fabulous, present interest. “You are not Jack Chilcote,” + she said, very slowly. “You are wearing his clothes, and speaking in his + voice but you are not Jack Chilcote.” Her tone quickened with a touch of + excitement. “You needn't keep silent and look at me,” she said. “I know + quite well what I am saying—though I don't understand it, though I + have no real proof—” She paused, momentarily disconcerted by her + companion's silent and steady gaze, and in the pause a curious and + unexpected thing occurred. + </p> + <p> + Loder laughed suddenly—a full, confident, reassured laugh. All the + web that the past half-hour had spun about him, all the intolerable sense + of an impending crash, lifted suddenly. He saw his way clearly—and + it was Lillian who had opened his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Still looking at her, he smiled—a smile of reliant determination, + such as Chilcote had never worn in his life. And with a calm gesture he + released his hand. + </p> + <p> + “The greatest charm of woman is her imagination,” he said, quietly. + “Without it there would be no color in life; we would come into and drop + out of it with the same uninteresting tone of drab reality.” He paused and + smiled again. + </p> + <p> + At his smile, Lillian involuntarily drew back, the color deepening in her + cheeks. “Why do you say that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He lifted his head. With each moment he felt more certain of himself. + “Because that is my attitude,” he said. “As a man I admire your + imagination, but as a man I fail to follow your reasoning.” + </p> + <p> + The words and the tone both stung her. “Do you realize the position?” she + asked, sharply. “Do you realize that, whatever your plans are, I can spoil + them?” + </p> + <p> + Loder still met her eyes. “I realize nothing of the sort,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then you admit that you are not Jack Chilcote?” + </p> + <p> + “I neither deny nor admit. My identity is obvious. I can get twenty men to + swear to it at any moment that you like. The fact that I haven't worn + rings till now will scarcely interest them.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do admit—to me, that you are not Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “I deny nothing—and admit nothing. I still offer my + congratulations.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon what?” + </p> + <p> + “The same possession—your imagination.” + </p> + <p> + Lillian stamped her foot. Then, by a quick effort, she conquered her + temper. “Prove me to be wrong!” she said, with a fresh touch of + excitement. “Take off your rings and let me see your hand.” + </p> + <p> + With a deliberate gesture Loder put his hand behind his back. “I never + gratify childish curiosity,” he said, with another smile. + </p> + <p> + Again a flash of temper crossed her eyes. “Are you sure,” she said, “that + it's quite wise to talk like that?” + </p> + <p> + Loder laughed again. “Is that a threat?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it's an empty one.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Before replying he waited a moment, looking down at her. + </p> + <p> + “I conclude,” he began, quietly, “that your idea is to spread this wild, + improbable story—to ask people to believe that John Chilcote, whom + they see before them, is not John Chilcote, but somebody else. Now you'll + find that a harder task than you imagine. This is a sceptical world, and + people are absurdly fond of their own eyesight. We are all journalists + nowadays—we all want facts. The first thing you will be asked for is + your proof. And what does your proof consist of? The circumstance that + John Chilcote, who has always despised jewelry, has lately taken to + wearing rings! Your own statement, unattended by any witnesses, that with + those rings off his finger bears a scar belonging to another man! No; on + close examination I scarcely imagine that your case would hold.” He + stopped, fired by his own logic. The future might be Chilcote's but the + present was his; and this present—with its immeasurable + possibilities—had been rescued from catastrophe. “No,” he said, + again. “When you get your proof perhaps we'll have another talk; but till + then—” + </p> + <p> + “Till then?” She looked up quickly; but almost at once her question died + away. + </p> + <p> + The door had opened, and the servant who had admitted Loder stood in the + opening. + </p> + <p> + “Dinner is served!” he announced, in his deferential voice. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII + </h2> + <p> + And Loder dined with Lillian Astrupp. We live in an age when society + expects, even exacts, much. He dined, not through bravado and not through + cowardice, but because it seemed the obvious, the only thing to do. To him + a scene of any description was distasteful; to Lillian it was unknown. In + her world people loved or hated, were spiteful or foolish, were even + quixotic or dishonorable, but they seldom made scenes. Loder tacitly saw + and tacitly accepted this. + </p> + <p> + Possibly they ate extremely little during the course of the dinner, and + talked extraordinarily much on subjects that interested neither; but the + main point at least was gained. They dined. The conventionalities were + appeased; the silent, watchful servants who waited on them were given no + food for comment. The fact that Loder left immediately after dinner, the + fact that he paused on the door-step after the hall door had closed behind + him, and drew a long, deep breath of relief, held only an individual + significance and therefore did not count. + </p> + <p> + On reaching Chilcote's house he passed at once to the study and dismissed + Greening for the night. But scarcely had he taken advantage of his + solitude by settling into an arm-chair and lighting a cigar, than Renwick, + displaying an unusual amount of haste and importance, entered the room + carrying a letter. + </p> + <p> + Seeing Loder, he came forward at once. “Mr. Fraide's man brought this, + sir,” he explained. “He was most particular to give it into my hands—making + sure 'twould reach you. He's waiting for an answer, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Loder rose and took the letter, a quick thrill of speculation and interest + springing across his mind. During his time of banishment he had followed + the political situation with feverish attention, insupportably chafed by + the desire to share in it, apprehensively chilled at the thought of + Chilcote's possible behavior. He knew that in the comparatively short + interval since Parliament had risen no act of aggression had marked the + Russian occupation of Meshed, but he also knew that Fraide and his + followers looked askance at that great power's amiable attitude, and at + sight of his leader's message his intuition stirred. + </p> + <p> + Turning to the nearest lamp, he tore the envelope open and scanned the + letter anxiously. It was written in Fraide's own clear, somewhat + old-fashioned writing, and opened with a kindly rebuke for his desertion + of him since the day of his speech; then immediately, and with + characteristic clearness, it opened up the subject nearest the writer's + mind. + </p> + <p> + Very slowly and attentively Loder read the letter; and with the extreme + quiet that with him invariably covered emotion, he moved to the desk, + wrote a note, and handed it to the waiting servant. As the man turned + towards the door he called him. + </p> + <p> + “Renwick!” he said, sharply, “when you've given that letter to Mr. + Fraide's servant, ask Mrs. Chilcote if she can spare me five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + When Renwick had gone and closed the door behind him, Loder paced the room + with feverish activity. In one moment the aspect of life had been changed. + Five minutes since he had been glorying in the risk of a barely saved + situation; now that situation with its merely social complications had + become a matter of small importance. + </p> + <p> + His long, striding steps had carried him to the fireplace, and his back + was towards the door when at last the handle turned. He wheeled round to + receive Eve's message; then a look of pleased surprise crossed his face. + It was Eve herself who stood in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + Without hesitation his lips parted. “Eve,” he said, abruptly, “I have had + great news! Russia has shown her teeth at last. Two caravans belonging to + a British trader were yesterday interfered with by a band of Cossacks. The + affair occurred a couple of miles outside Meshed; the traders + remonstrated, but the Russians made summary use of their advantage. Two + Englishmen were wounded and one of them has since died. Fraide has only + now received the news—which cannot be overrated. It gives the + precise lever necessary for the big move at the reassembling.” He spoke + with great earnestness and unusual haste. As he finished he took a step + forward. “But that's not all!” he added. “Fraide wants the great move set + in motion by a great speech—and he has asked me to make it.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Eve waited. She looked at him in silence; and in that silence + he read in her eyes the reflection of his own expression. + </p> + <p> + “And you?” she asked, in a suppressed voice. “What answer did you give?” + </p> + <p> + He watched her for an instant, taking a strange pleasure in her flushed + face and brilliantly eager eyes; then the joy of conscious strength, the + sense of opportunity regained, swept all other considerations out of + sight. + </p> + <p> + “I accepted,” he said, quickly. “Could any man who was merely human have + done otherwise?” + </p> + <p> + That was Loder's attitude and action on the night of his jeopardy and his + success, and the following day found his mood unchanged. He was one of + those rare individuals who never give a promise overnight and regret it in + the morning. He was slow to move, but when he did the movement brushed all + obstacles aside. In the first days of his usurpation he had gone + cautiously, half fascinated, half distrustful; then the reality, the + extraordinary tangibility of the position had gripped him when, matching + himself for the first time with men of his own caliber, he had learned his + real weight on the day of his protest against the Easter adjournment. With + that knowledge had been born the dominant factor in his whole scheme—the + overwhelming, insistent desire to manifest his power. That desire that is + the salvation or the ruin of every strong man who has once realized his + strength. Supremacy was the note to which his ambition reached. To trample + out Chilcote's footmarks with his own had been his tacit instinct from the + first; now it rose paramount. It was the whole theory of creation—the + survival of the fittest—the deep, egotistical certainty that he was + the better man. + </p> + <p> + And it was with this conviction that he entered on the vital period of his + dual career. The imminent crisis, and his own share in it, absorbed him + absolutely. + </p> + <p> + In the weeks that followed his answer to Fraide's proposal he gave himself + ungrudgingly to his work. He wrote, read, and planned with tireless + energy; he frequently forgot to eat, and slept only through sheer + exhaustion; in the fullest sense of the word he lived for the culminating + hour that was to bring him failure or success. + </p> + <p> + He seldom left Grosvenor Square in the days that followed, except to + confer with his party. All his interest, all his relaxation even, lay in + his work and what pertained to it. His strength was like a solid wall, his + intelligence was sharp and keen as steel. The moment was his; and by sheer + mastery of will he put other considerations out of sight. He forgot + Chilcote and forgot Lillian—not because they escaped his memory, but + because he chose to shut them from it. + </p> + <p> + Of Eve he saw but little in this time of high pressure. When a man touches + the core of his capacities, puts his best into the work that in his eyes + stands paramount, there is little place for, and no need of, woman. She + comes before—and after. She inspires, compensates, or completes; but + the achievement, the creation, is man's alone. And all true women + understand and yield to this unspoken precept. + </p> + <p> + Eve watched the progress of his labor, and in the depth of her own heart + the watching came nearer to actual living than any activity she had known. + She was an on-looker—but an on-looker who stood, as it were, on the + steps of the arena, who, by a single forward movement, could feel the sand + under her feet, the breath of the battle on her face; and in this + knowledge she rested satisfied. + </p> + <p> + There were hours when Loder seemed scarcely conscious of her existence; + but on those occasions she smiled in her serene way—and went on + waiting. She knew that each day, before the afternoon had passed, he would + come into her sitting-room, his face thoughtful, his hands full of books + or papers, and, dropping into one of the comfortable, studious chairs, + would ask laconically for tea. This was her moment of triumph and + recompense—for the very unconsciousness of his coming doubled its + value. He would sit for half an hour with a preoccupied glance, or with + keen, alert eyes fixed on the fire, while his ideas sorted themselves and + fell into line. Sometimes he was silent for the whole half-hour, sometimes + he commented to himself as he scanned his notes; but on other and rarer + occasions he talked, speaking his thoughts and his theories aloud, with + the enjoyment of a man who knows himself fully in his depth, while Eve + sipped her tea or stitched peacefully at a strip of embroidery. + </p> + <p> + On these occasions she made a perfect listener. Here and there she + encouraged him with an intelligent remark, but she never interrupted. She + knew when to be silent and when to speak; when to merge her own + individuality and when to make it felt. In these days of stress and + preparation he came to her unconsciously for rest; he treated her as he + might have treated a younger brother—relying on her discretion, + turning to her as by right for sympathy, comprehension, and friendship. + Sometimes, as they sat silent in the richly colored, homelike room, Eve + would pause over her embroidery and let her thoughts spin momentarily + forward—spin towards the point where, the brunt of his ordeal + passed, he must, of necessity, seek something beyond mere rest. But there + her thoughts would inevitably break off and the blood flame quickly into + her cheek. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Loder worked persistently. With each day that brought the crisis + of Fraide's scheme nearer, his activity increased—and with it an + intensifying of the nervous strain. For if he had his hours of exaltation, + he also had his hours of black apprehension. It is all very well to + exorcise a ghost by sheer strength of will, but one has also to eliminate + the idea that gave it existence. Lillian Astrupp, with her unattested + evidence and her ephemeral interest, gave him no real uneasiness; but + Chilcote and Chilcote's possible summons were matters of graver + consideration; and there were times when they loomed very dark and + sinister: What if at the very moment of fulfilment—? But invariably + he snapped the thread of the supposition and turned with fiercer ardor to + his work of preparation. + </p> + <p> + And so the last morning of his probation dawned, and for the first time he + breathed freely. + </p> + <p> + He rose early on the day that was to witness his great effort and dressed + slowly. It was a splendid morning; the spirit of the spring seemed + embodied in the air, in the pale-blue sky, in the shafts of cool sunshine + that danced from the mirror to the dressing-table, from the dressing-table + to the pictures on the walls of Chilcote's vast room. Inconsequently with + its dancing rose a memory of the distant past—a memory of + long-forgotten days when, as a child, he had been bidden to watch the same + sun perform the same fantastic evolutions. The sight and the thought + stirred him curiously with an unlooked-for sense of youth. He drew himself + together with an added touch of decision as he passed out into the + corridor; and as he walked down-stairs he whistled a bar or two of an + inspiriting tune. + </p> + <p> + In the morning-room Eve was already waiting. She looked up, colored, and + smiled as he entered. Her face looked very fresh and young and she wore a + gown of the same pale blue that she had worn on his first coming. + </p> + <p> + She looked up from an open letter as he came into the room, and the sun + that fell through the window caught her in a shaft of light, intensifying + her blue eyes, her blue gown, and the bunch of violets fastened in her + belt. To Loder, still under the influence of early memories, she seemed + the embodiment of some youthful ideal—something lost, sought for, + and found again. Realization of his feeling for her almost came to him as + he stood there looking at her. It hovered about him; it tipped him, as it + were, with its wings; then it rose again and soared away. Men like him—men + keen to grasp an opening where their careers are concerned, and tenacious + to hold it when once grasped—are frequently the last to look into + their own hearts. He glanced at Eve, he acknowledged the stir of his + feeling, but he made no attempt to define its cause. He could no more have + given reason for his sensations than he could have told the precise date + upon which, coming down-stairs at eight o'clock, he had first found her + waiting breakfast for him. The time when all such incidents were to stand + out, each to a nicety in its appointed place, had not yet arrived. For the + moment his youth had returned to him; he possessed the knowledge of work + done, the sense of present companionship in a world of agreeable things; + above all, the steady, quiet conviction of his own capacity. All these + things came to him in the moment of his entering the room, greeting Eve, + and passing to the breakfast-table; then, while his eyes still rested + contentedly on the pleasant array of china and silver, while his senses + were still alive to the fresh, earthly scent of Eve's violets, the blow so + long dreaded—so slow in coming fell with accumulated force. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV + </h2> + <p> + The letter through which the blow fell was not voluminous. It was written + on cheap paper in a disguised hand, and the contents covered only half a + page. Loder read it slowly, mentally articulating every word; then he laid + it down, and as he did so he caught Eve's eyes raised in concern. Again he + saw something of his own feelings reflected in her face, and the shock + braced him; he picked up the letter, tearing it into strips. + </p> + <p> + “I must go out,” he said, slowly. “I must go now—at once.” His voice + was hard. + </p> + <p> + Eve's surprised, concerned eyes still searched his. “Now—at once?” + she repeated. “Now—without breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not hungry.” He rose from his seat, and, carrying the slips of paper + across the room, dropped them into the fire. He did it, not so much from + caution, as from an imperative wish to do something, to move, if only + across the room. + </p> + <p> + Eve's glance followed him. “Is it bad news?” she asked, anxiously. It was + unlike her to be insistent, but she was moved to the impulse by the + peculiarity of the moment. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said shortly. “It's—business. This was written yesterday; I + should have got it last night.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes widened. “But nobody does business at eight in the morning—” + she began, in astonishment; then she suddenly broke off. + </p> + <p> + Without apology or farewell, Loder had left the fireplace and walked out + of the room. + </p> + <p> + He passed through the hall hurriedly, picking up a hat as he went; and, + reaching the pavement outside, he went straight forward until Grosvenor + Square was left behind; then he ran. At the risk of reputation, at the + loss of dignity, he ran until he saw a cab. Hailing it, he sprang inside, + and, as the cabman whipped up and the horse responded to the call, he + realized for the first time the full significance of what had occurred. + </p> + <p> + Realization, like the need for action, came to him slowly, but when it + came it was with terrible lucidity. He did not swear as he leaned back in + his seat, mechanically watching the stream of men on their way to + business, the belated cars of green produce blocking the way between the + Strand and Covent Garden. He had no use for oaths; his feelings lay deeper + than mere words. But his mouth was sternly set and his eyes looked cold. + </p> + <p> + Outside the Law Courts he dismissed his cab and walked forward to + Clifford's Inn. As he passed through the familiar entrance a chill fell on + him. In the clear, early light it seemed more than ever a place of dead + hopes, dead enterprises, dead ambitions. In the onward march of life it + had been forgotten. The very air had a breath of unfulfilment. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the court rapidly, but his mouth set itself afresh as he passed + through the door-way of his own house and crossed the bare hall. + </p> + <p> + As he mounted the well-known stairs, he received his first indication of + life in the appearance of a cat from the second-floor rooms. At sight of + him, the animal came forward, rubbed demonstratively against his legs, and + with affectionate persistence followed him up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + Outside his door he paused. On the ground stood the usual morning can of + milk—evidence that Chilcote was not yet awake or that, like himself, + he had no appetite for breakfast. He smiled ironically as the idea struck + him, but it was a smile that stiffened rather than relaxed his lips. Then + he drew out the duplicate key he always carried, and, inserting it + quietly, opened the door. A close, unpleasant smell greeted him as he + entered the small passage that divided the bed and sitting rooms—a + smell of whiskey mingling with the odor of stale smoke. With a quick + gesture he pushed open the bedroom door; then on the threshold he paused, + a look of contempt and repulsion passing over his face. + </p> + <p> + In his first glance he scarcely grasped the details of the scene, for the + half-drawn curtains kept the light dim, but as his eyes grew accustomed to + the obscurity he gathered their significance. + </p> + <p> + The room had a sleepless, jaded air—the room that under his own + occupation had shown a rigid, almost monastic severity. The plain + dressing-table was littered with cigarette ends and marked with black and + tawny patches where the tobacco had been left to burn itself out. On one + corner of the table a carafe of water and a whiskey-decanter rested one + against the other, as if for support, and at the other end an overturned + tumbler lay in a pool of liquid. The whole effect was sickly and + nauseating. His glance turned involuntarily to the bed, and there halted. + </p> + <p> + On the hard, narrow mattress, from which the sheets and blankets had + fallen in a disordered heap, lay Chilcote. He was fully dressed in a + shabby tweed suit of Loder's; his collar was open, his lip and chin + unshaven; one hand was limply grasping the pillow, while the other hung + out over the side of the bed. His face, pale, almost earthy in hue, might + have been a mask, save for the slight convulsive spasms that crossed it + from time to time, and corresponded with the faint, shivering starts that + passed at intervals over his whole body. To complete his repellent + appearance, a lock of hair had fallen loose and lay black and damp across + his forehead. + </p> + <p> + Loder stood for a space shocked and spellbound by the sight. Even in the + ghastly disarray, the likeness—the extraordinary, sinister likeness + that had become the pivot upon which he himself revolved—struck him + like a blow. The man who lay there was himself-bound to him by some + subtle, inexplicable tie of similarity. As the idea touched him he turned + aside and stepped quickly to the dressing-table; there, with unnecessary + energy, he flung back the curtains and threw the window wide; then again + he turned towards the bed. He had one dominant impulse—to waken + Chilcote, to be free of the repulsive, inert presence that chilled him + with so personal a horror. Leaning over the bed, he caught the shoulder + nearest to him and shook it. It was not the moment for niceties, and his + gesture was rough. + </p> + <p> + At his first touch Chilcote made no response—his brain, dulled by + indulgence in his vice, had become a laggard in conveying sensations; but + at last, as the pressure on his shoulder increased, his nervous system + seemed suddenly to jar into consciousness. A long shudder shook him; he + half lifted himself and then dropped back upon the pillow. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he exclaimed, in a trembling breath. “Oh!” The sound seemed drawn + from him by compulsion. + </p> + <p> + Its uncanny tone chilled Loder anew. “Wake up, man!” he said, suddenly. + “Wake up! It's I—Loder.” + </p> + <p> + Again the other shuddered; then he turned quickly and nervously. “Loder?” + he said, doubtfully. “Loder?” Then his face changed. “Good God!” he + exclaimed, “what a relief!” + </p> + <p> + The words were so intense, so spontaneous and unexpected, that Loder took + a step back. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote laughed discordantly, and lifted a shaky hand to protect his eyes + from the light. + </p> + <p> + “It's—it's all right, Loder! It's all right! It's only that I—that + I had a beastly dream. But, for Heaven's sake, shut that window!” He + shivered involuntarily and pushed the lock of damp hair from his forehead + with a weak touch of his old irritability. + </p> + <p> + In silence Loder moved back to the window and shut it. He was affected + more than he would own even to himself by the obvious change in Chilcote. + He had seen him moody, restless, nervously excited; but never before had + he seen him entirely demoralized. With a dull feeling of impotence and + disgust he stood by the closed window, looking unseeingly at the roofs of + the opposite houses. + </p> + <p> + But Chilcote had followed his movements restlessly; and now, as he watched + him, a flicker of excitement crossed his face. “God! Loder,” he said, + again, “'twas a relief to see you! I dreamed I was in hell—a + horrible hell, worse than the one they preach about.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed to reassure himself, but his voice shook pitiably. + </p> + <p> + Loder, who had come to fight, stood silent and inert. + </p> + <p> + “It was horrible—beastly,” Chilcote went on. “There was no fire and + brimstone, but there was something worse. It was a great ironic scheme of + punishment by which every man was chained to his own vice—by which + the thing he had gone to pieces over, instead of being denied him, was + made compulsory. You can't imagine it.” He shivered nervously and his + voice rose. “Fancy being satiated beyond the limit of satiety, being + driven and dogged by the thing you had run after all your life!” + </p> + <p> + He paused excitedly, and in the pause Loder found resolution. He shut his + ears to the panic in Chilcote's voice, he closed his consciousness to the + sight of his shaken face. With a surge of determination he rallied his + theories. After all, he had himself and his own interests to claim his + thought. At the moment Chilcote was a wreck, with no desire towards + rehabilitation; but there was no guarantee that in an hour or two he might + not have regained control over himself, and with it the inclination that + had prompted his letter of the day before. No; he had himself to look to. + The survival of the fittest was the true, the only principle. Chilcote had + had intellect, education, opportunity, and Chilcote had deliberately cast + them aside. Fortifying himself in the knowledge, he turned from the window + and moved slowly back to the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he began, “you wrote for me last night—” His voice was + hard; he had come to fight. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote glanced up quickly. His mouth was drawn and there was anew + anxiety in his eyes. “Loder!” he exclaimed, quickly. “Loder, come here! + Come nearer!” + </p> + <p> + Reluctantly Loder obeyed. Stepping closer to the side of the bed, he bent + down. + </p> + <p> + The other put up his hand and caught his arm. His fingers trembled and + jerked. “I say, Loder,” he said, suddenly, “I—I've had such a + beastly night—my nerves, you know—” + </p> + <p> + With a quick, involuntary disgust Loder drew back. “Don't you think we + might shove that aside?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + But Chilcote's gaze had wandered from his face and strayed to the + dressing-table; there it moved feverishly from one object to another. + </p> + <p> + “Loder,” he exclaimed, “do you see—can you see if there's a tube of + tabloids on the mantel-shelf—or on the dressing-table?” He lifted + himself nervously on his elbow and his eyes wandered uneasily about the + room. “I—I had a beastly night; my nerves are horribly jarred; and I + thought—I think—” He stopped. + </p> + <p> + With his increasing consciousness his nervous collapse became more marked. + At the first moment of waking, the relief of an unexpected presence had + surmounted everything else; but now, as one by one his faculties stirred, + his wretched condition became patent. With a new sense of perturbation + Loder made his next attack. + </p> + <p> + “Chilcote—” he began, sternly. + </p> + <p> + But again Chilcote caught his arm, plucking at the coat-sleeve. “Where is + it?” he said. “Where is the tube of tabloids—the sedative? I'm—I'm + obliged to take something when my nerves go wrong—” In his weakness + and nervous tremor he forgot that Loder was the sharer of his secret. Even + in his extremity his fear of detection clung to him limply—the lies + that had become second nature slipped from him without effort. Then + suddenly a fresh panic seized him; his fingers tightened spasmodically, + his eyes ceased to rove about the room and settled on his companion's + face. “Can you see it, Loder?” he cried. “I can't—the light's in my + eyes. Can you see it? Can you see the tube?” He lifted himself higher, an + agony of apprehension in his face. + </p> + <p> + Loder pushed him back upon the pillow. He was striving hard to keep his + own mind cool, to steer his own course straight through the chaos that + confronted him. “Chilcote,” he began once more, “you sent for me last + night, and I came the first thing this morning to tell you—” But + there he stopped. + </p> + <p> + With an excitement that lent him strength, Chilcote pushed aside his + hands. “God!” he said, suddenly, “suppose 'twas lost—suppose 'twas + gone!” The imaginary possibility gripped him. He sat up, his face livid, + drops of perspiration showing on his forehead, his whole shattered system + trembling before his thought. + </p> + <p> + At the sight, Loder set his lips. “The tube is on the mantel-shelf,” he + said, in a cold, abrupt voice. + </p> + <p> + A groan of relief fell from Chilcote and the muscles of his face relaxed. + For a moment he lay back with closed eyes; then the desire that tortured + him stirred afresh. He lifted his eyelids and looked at his companion. + “Hand it to me,” he said, quickly. “Give it to me. Give it to me, Loder. + Quick as you can! There's a glass on the table and some whiskey and water. + The tabloids dissolve, you know—” In his new excitement he held out + his hand. + </p> + <p> + But Loder stayed motionless. He had come to fight, to demand, to plead—if + need be—for the one hour for which he had lived; the hour that was + to satisfy all labor, all endeavor, all ambition. With dogged persistence + he made one more essay. + </p> + <p> + “Chilcote, you wrote last night to recall me—” Once again he paused, + checked by a new interruption. Sitting up again, Chilcote struck out + suddenly with his left hand in a rush of his old irritability. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you!” he cried, suddenly, “what are you talking about? Look at me! + Get me the stuff. I tell you it's imperative.” In his excitement his + breath failed and he coughed. At the effort his whole frame was shaken. + </p> + <p> + Loder walked to the dressing-table, then back to the bed. A deep agitation + was at work in his mind. + </p> + <p> + Again Chilcote's lips parted. “Loder,” he said, faintly—“Loder, I + must—I must have it. It's imperative.” Once more he attempted to + lift himself, but the effort was futile. + </p> + <p> + Again Loder turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Loder—for God's sake—” + </p> + <p> + With a fierce gesture the other turned on him. “Good heavens! man—” + he began. Then unaccountably his voice changed. The suggestion that had + been hovering in his mind took sudden and definite shape. “All right!” he + said, in a lower voice. “All right! Stay as you are.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed to where the empty tumbler stood and hastily mixed the whiskey + and water; then crossing to the mantel-piece where lay the small glass + tube containing the tightly packed tabloids, he paused and glanced once + more towards the bed. “How many?” he said, laconically. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote lifted his head. His face was pitiably drawn, but the feverish + brightness in his eyes had increased. “Five,” he said, sharply. “Five. Do + you hear, Loder?” + </p> + <p> + “Five?” Involuntarily Loder lowered the hand that held the tube. From + previous confidences of Chilcote's he knew the amount of morphia contained + in each tabloid, and realized that five tabloids, if not an absolutely + dangerous, was at least an excessive dose, even for one accustomed to the + drug. For a moment his resolution failed; then the dominant-note of his + nature—the unconscious, fundamental egotism on which his character + was based—asserted itself beyond denial. It might be reprehensible, + it might even be criminal to accede to such a request, made by a man in + such a condition of body and mind; yet the laws of the universe demanded + self-assertion—prompted every human mind to desire, to grasp, and to + hold. With a perception swifter than any he had experienced, he realized + the certain respite to be gained by yielding to his impulse. He looked at + Chilcote with his haggard, anxious expression, his eager, restless eyes; + and a vision of himself followed sharp upon his glance. A vision of the + untiring labor of the past ten days, of the slowly kindling ambition, of + the supremacy all but gained. Then, as the picture completed itself, he + lifted his hand with an abrupt movement and dropped the five tabloids one + after another into the glass. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV + </h2> + <p> + Having taken a definite step in any direction, it was not in Loder's + nature to wish it retraced. His face was set, but set with determination, + when he closed the outer door of his own rooms and passed quietly down the + stairs and out into the silent court. The thought of Chilcote, his + pitiable condition, his sordid environments, were things that required a + firm will to drive into the background of the imagination; but a whole + inferno of such visions would not have daunted Loder on that morning as, + unobserved by any eyes, he left the little court-yard with its grass, its + trees, its pavement—all so distastefully familiar—and passed + down the Strand towards life and action. + </p> + <p> + As he walked, his steps increased in speed and vigor. Now, for the first + time, he fully appreciated the great mental strain that he had undergone + in the past ten days—the unnatural tension; the suppressed, but + perpetual, sense of impending recall; the consequently high pressure at + which work, and even existence, had been carried on. And as he hurried + forward the natural reaction to this state of things came upon him in a + flood of security and confidence—a strong realization of the + temporary respite and freedom for which no price would have seemed too + high. The moment for which he had unconsciously lived ever since + Chilcote's first memorable proposition was within reach at last—safeguarded + by his own action. + </p> + <p> + The walk from Clifford's Inn to Grosvenor Square was long enough to dispel + any excitement that his interview had aroused; and long before the + well-known house came into view he felt sufficiently braced mentally and + physically to seek Eve in the morning-room—where he instinctively + felt she would still be waiting for him. + </p> + <p> + Thus he encountered and overpassed the obstacle that had so nearly + threatened ruin; and, with the singleness of purpose that always + distinguished him, he was able, once having passed it, to dismiss it + altogether from his mind. From the moment of his return to Chilcote's + house no misgiving as to his own action, no shadow of doubt, rose to + trouble his mind. His feelings on the matter were quite simple. He had + inordinately desired a certain opportunity; one factor had arisen to debar + that opportunity, and he, claiming the right of strength, had set the + barrier aside. In the simplicity of the reasoning lay its power to + convince; and were a tonic needed to brace him for his task, he was + provided with one in the masterful sense of a difficulty set at nought. + For the man who has fought and conquered one obstacle feels strong to + vanquish a score. + </p> + <p> + It was on this day, at the reassembling of Parliament, that Fraide's great + blow was to be struck. In the ten days since the affair of the caravans + had been reported from Persia public feeling had run high, and it was upon + the pivot of this incident that Loder's attack was to turn; for, as Lakely + was fond of remarking, “In the scales of public opinion, one dead + Englishman has more weight than the whole Eastern Question!” It had been + arranged that, following the customary procedure, Loder was to rise after + questions at the morning sitting and ask leave to move the adjournment of + the House on a definite matter of urgent public importance; upon which—leave + having been granted by the rising of forty members in his support—the + way was to lie open for his definite attack at the evening sitting. And it + was with a mind attuned to this plan of action that he retired to the + study immediately he had breakfasted, and settled to a final revision of + his speech before an early party conference should compel him to leave the + house. But here again circumstances were destined to change his programme. + Scarcely had he sorted his notes and drawn his chair to Chilcote's desk + than Renwick entered the room with the same air of important haste that he + had shown on a previous occasion. + </p> + <p> + “A letter from Mr. Fraide, sir. But there's no answer,” he said, with + unusual brevity. + </p> + <p> + Loder waited till he had left the room, then he tore the letter open. He + read: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR CHILCOTE,—Lakely is the recipient of special and very vital + news from Meshed—unofficial, but none the less alarming. Acts of + Russian aggression towards British traders are reported to be rapidly + increasing, and it is stated that the authority of the Consulate is + treated with contempt. Pending a possible confirmation of this, I would + suggest that you keep an open mind on the subject of to-night's speech. By + adopting an anticipatory—even an unprepared—attitude you may + find your hand materially strengthened. I shall put my opinions before you + more explicitly when we meet. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Yours faithfully, + HERBERT FRAIDE.” + </pre> + <p> + The letter, worded with Fraide's usual restraint, made a strong impression + on its recipient. The thought that his speech might not only express + opinions already tacitly held, but voice a situation of intense and + national importance, struck him with full force. For many minutes after he + had grasped the meaning of Fraide's message he sat neglectful of his + notes, his elbows resting on the desk, his face between his hands, stirred + by the suggestion that here might lie a greater opportunity than any he + had anticipated. + </p> + <p> + Still moved by this new suggestion, he attended the party conclave that + Fraide had convened, and afterwards lunched with and accompanied his + leader to the House. They spoke very little as they drove to Westminster, + for each was engrossed by his own thoughts. Only once did Fraide allude to + the incident that was paramount in both their minds. Then, turning to + Loder with a smile of encouragement, he had laid his fingers for an + instant on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Chilcote,” he had said, “when the time comes, remember you have all my + confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Looking back upon that day, Loder often wondered at the calmness with + which he bore the uncertainty. To sit apparently unmoved, and wait without + emotion for news that might change the whole tenor of one's action, would + have tried the stoicism of the most experienced; to the novice it was + wellnigh unendurable. And it was under these conditions, and fighting + against these odds, that he sat through the long afternoon in Chilcote's + place, obeying the dictates of his chief. But if the day was fraught with + difficulties for him, it was fraught with dulness and disappointment for + others; for the undercurrent of interest that had stirred at the Easter + adjournment, and risen with added force on this first day of the new + session, was gradually but surely threatened with extinction, as hour + after hour passed, bringing no suggestion of the battle that had on every + side been tacitly expected. Slowly and unmistakably speculation and + dissatisfaction crept into the atmosphere of the House, as moment + succeeded moment, and the Opposition made no sign. Was Fraide shirking the + attack? Or was he playing a waiting game? Again and again the question + arose, filling the air with a passing flicker of interest; but each time + it sprang up only to die down again, as the ordinary business of the day + dragged itself out. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, as the afternoon wore on, daylight began to fade. Loder, + sitting rigidly in Chilcote's place, watched with suppressed inquiry the + faces of the men who entered through the constantly swinging doors; but + not one face, so eagerly scanned, carried the message for which he waited. + Monotonously and mechanically the time passed. The Government, adopting a + neutral attitude, carefully skirted all dangerous subjects; while the + Opposition, acting under Fraide's suggestion, assisted rather than + hindered the programme of postponement. For the moment the eagerly + anticipated reassembling threatened dismal failure; and it was with a + universal movement of weariness and relief that at last the House rose to + dine. + </p> + <p> + But there are no possibilities so elastic as those of politics. At + half-past seven the House rose in a spirit of boredom and disappointment; + and at eight o'clock the lobbies, the dining-room, the entire space of the + vast building, was stirred into activity by the arrival of a single + telegraphic message. + </p> + <p> + The new development for which Fraide had waited came indeed, but it came + with a force he had little anticipated. With a thrill of awe and + consternation men heard and repeated the astounding news that—while + personally exercising his authority on behalf of British traders—Sir + William Brice-Field, Consul-General at Meshed, had been fired at by a + Russian officer and instantly killed. + </p> + <p> + The interval immediately following the receipt of this news was too + confused for detailed remembrance. Two ideas made themselves slowly felt—a + deep horror that such an event could obtrude itself upon our high + civilization, and a strong personal dismay that so honored, distinguished, + and esteemed a representative as Sir William Brice-Field could have been + allowed to meet death in so terrible a manner. + </p> + <p> + It was in the consciousness of this feeling—the consciousness that, + in his own person, he might voice, not only the feelings of his party, but + those of the whole country—that Loder rose an hour later to make his + long-delayed attack. + </p> + <p> + He stood silent for a moment, as he had done on an earlier occasion; but + this time his motive was different. Roused beyond any feeling of + self-consciousness, he waited as by right for the full attention of the + House; then quietly, but with self-possessed firmness, he moved the motion + for adjournment. + </p> + <p> + Like a match to a train of powder, the words set flame to the excitement + that had smouldered for weeks; and in an atmosphere of stirring activity, + a scene of such tense and vital concentration as the House has rarely + witnessed, he found inspiration for his great achievement. + </p> + <p> + To give Loder's speech in mere words would be little short of futile. The + gift of oratory is too illusive, too much a matter of eye and voice and + individuality, to allow of cold reproduction. To those who heard him speak + on that night of April 18th the speech will require no recalling; and to + those who did not hear him there would be no substitute in bare + reproduction. + </p> + <p> + In the moment of action it mattered nothing to him that his previous + preparations were to a great extent rendered useless by this news that had + come with such paralyzing effect. In the sweeping consciousness of his own + ability, he found added joy in the freedom it opened up. He ceased to + consider that by fate he was a Conservative, bound by traditional + conventionalities: in that great moment he knew himself sufficiently a man + to exercise whatever individuality instinct prompted. He forgot the + didactic methods by which he had proposed to show knowledge of his subject—both + as a past and a future factor in European politics. With his own strong + appreciation of present things, he saw and grasped the vast present + interest lying beneath his hand. + </p> + <p> + For fifty minutes he held the interest of the House, speaking insistently, + fearlessly, commandingly on the immediate need of action. He + unhesitatingly pointed out that the news which had just reached England + was not so much an appalling fact as a sinister warning to those in whose + keeping lay the safety of the country's interests. Lastly, with a fine + touch of eloquence, he paid tribute to the steadfast fidelity of such men + as Sir William Brice-Field, who, whatever political complications arise at + home, pursue their duty unswervingly on the outposts of the empire. + </p> + <p> + At his last words there was silence—the silence that marks a genuine + effect—then all at once, with vehement, impressive force, the storm + of enthusiasm broke its bounds. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those stupendous bursts of feeling that no etiquette, no + decorum is powerful enough to quell. As he resumed his seat, very pale, + but exalted as men are exalted only once or twice in a lifetime, it rose + about him—clamorous, spontaneous, undeniable. Near at hand were the + faces of his party, excited and triumphant; across the house were the + faces of Sefborough and his Ministry, uncomfortable and disturbed. + </p> + <p> + The tumult swelled, then fell away; and in the partial lull that followed + Fraide leaned over the back of his seat. His quiet, dignified expression + was unaltered, but his eyes were intensely bright. + </p> + <p> + “Chilcote,” he whispered, “I don't congratulate you—or myself. I + congratulate the country on possessing a great man!” + </p> + <p> + The remaining features of the debate followed quickly one upon the other; + the electric atmosphere of the House possessed a strong incentive power. + Immediately Loder's ovation had subsided, the Under-Secretary for Foreign + Affairs rose and in a careful and non-incriminating reply defended the + attitude of the Government. + </p> + <p> + Next came Fraide, who, in one of his rare and polished speeches, touched + with much feeling upon his personal grief at the news reported from + Persia, and made emphatic indorsement of Loder's words. + </p> + <p> + Following Fraide came one or two dissentient Liberals, and then Sefborough + himself closed the debate. His speech was masterly and fluent; but though + any disquietude he may have felt was well disguised under a tone of + reassuring ease, the attempt to rehabilitate his position—already + weakened in more than one direction—was a task beyond his strength. + </p> + <p> + Amid extraordinary excitement the division followed—and with it a + Government defeat. + </p> + <p> + It was not until half an hour after the votes had, been taken that Loder, + freed at last from persistent congratulations, found opportunity to look + for Eve. In accordance with a promise made that morning, he was to find + her waiting outside the Ladies' Gallery at the close of the debate. + </p> + <p> + Disengaging himself from the group of men who had surrounded and followed + him down the lobby, he discarded the lift and ran up the narrow staircase. + Reaching the landing, he went forward hurriedly; then with a certain + abrupt movement he paused. In the doorway leading to the gallery Eve was + waiting for him. The place was not brightly lighted, and she was standing + in the shadow; but it needed only a glance to assure his recognition. He + could almost have seen in the dark that night, so vivid were his + perceptions. He took a step towards her, then again he stopped. In a + second glance he realized that her eyes were bright with tears; and it was + with the strangest sensation he had ever experienced that the knowledge + flashed upon him. Here, also, he had struck the same note—the + long-coveted note of supremacy. It had rung out full and clear as he stood + in Chilcote's place dominating the House; it had besieged him clamorously + as he passed along the lobbies amid a sea of friendly hands and voices; + now in the quiet of the deserted gallery it came home to him with deeper + meaning from the eyes of Chilcote's wife. + </p> + <p> + Without a thought he put out his hands and caught hers. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't get away,” he said. “I'm afraid I'm very late.” + </p> + <p> + With a smile that scattered her tears Eve looked up. “Are you?” she said, + laughing a little. “I don't know what the time is. I scarcely know whether + it's night or day.” + </p> + <p> + Still holding one of her hands, he drew her down the stairs; but as they + reached the last step she released her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “In the carriage!” she said, with another little laugh of nervous + happiness. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the stairs they were surrounded. Men whose faces Loder + barely knew crowded about him. The intoxication of excitement was still in + the air—the instinct that a new force had made itself felt, a new + epoch been entered upon, stirred prophetically in every mind. + </p> + <p> + Passing through the enthusiastic concourse of men, they came unexpectedly + upon Fraide and Lady Sarah surrounded by a group of friends. The old + statesman came forward instantly, and, taking Loder's arm, walked with him + to Chilcote's waiting brougham. He said little as they slowly made their + way to the carriage, but the pressure of his fingers was tense and an + unwonted color showed in his face. When Eve and Loder had taken their + seats he stepped to the edge of the curb. They were alone for the moment, + and, leaning close to the carriage, he put his hand through the open + window. In silence he took Eve's fingers and held them in a long, + affectionate pressure; then he released them and took Loder's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Chilcote,” he said. “You have proved yourself worthy of her. + Good-night.” He turned quickly and rejoined his waiting friends. In + another second the horses had wheeled round, and Eve and Loder were + carried swiftly forward into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + In the great moments of man's life woman comes before—and after. + Some shadow of this truth was in, Eve's mind as she lay back in her seat + with closed eyes, and parted lips. It seemed that life came to her now for + the first time—came in the glad, proud, satisfying tide of things + accomplished. This was her hour: and the recognition of it brought the + blood to her face in a sudden, happy rush. There had been no need to + precipitate its coming; it had been ordained from the first. Whether she + desired it or no, whether she strove to draw it nearer or strove to ward + it off, its coming had been inevitable. She opened her eyes suddenly and + looked out into the darkness—the darkness throbbing with multitudes + of lives, all awaiting, all desiring fulfilment. She was no longer lonely, + no longer aloof; she was kin with all this pitiful, admirable, sinning, + loving humanity. Again tears of pride and happiness filled her eyes. Then + suddenly the thing she had waited for came to pass. + </p> + <p> + Loder leaned close to her. She was conscious of his nearer presence, of + his strong, masterful personality. With a thrill that caught her breath, + she felt his arm. about her shoulder and heard the sound of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said,—“I love you. Do you understand I love you.” And + drawing her close to him he bent and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + With Loder, to do was to do fully. When he gave, he gave generously; when + he swept aside a barrier he left no stone standing. He had been slow to + recognize his capacities—slower still to recognize his feelings. But + now that the knowledge came he received it openly. In this matter of newly + comprehended love he gave no thought to either past or future. That they + loved and were alone was all he knew or questioned. She was as much Eve—the + one woman—as though they were together in the primeval garden; and + in that spirit he claimed her. + </p> + <p> + He neither spoke nor behaved extravagantly in that great moment of + comprehension. He acted quietly, with the completeness of purpose that he + gave to everything. He had found a new capacity within himself, and he was + strong enough to dread no weakness in displaying it. + </p> + <p> + Holding her close to him, he repeated his declaration again and again, as + though repetition ratified it. He found no need to question her feeling + for him—he had divined it in a flash of inspiration as she stood + waiting in the doorway of the gallery; but his own surrender was a + different matter. + </p> + <p> + As the carriage passed round the corner of Whitehall and dipped into the + traffic of Piccadilly he bent down again until her soft hair brushed his + face; and the warm personal contact, the slight, fresh smell of violets so + suggestive of her presence, stirred' him afresh. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, vehemently, “do you understand? Do you know that I have + loved you always—from the very first?” As he said it he bent still + nearer, kissing her lips, her forehead, her hair. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment the horses slackened speed and then stopped, arrested + by one of the temporary blocks that so often occur in the traffic of + Piccadilly Circus. + </p> + <p> + Loder, preoccupied with his own feelings, scarcely noticed the halt, but + Eve drew away from him laughing. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't!” she said, softly. “Look!” + </p> + <p> + The carriage had stopped beside one of the small islands that intersect + the place; a group of pedestrians were crowded upon it, under the light of + the electric lamp—wayfarers who, like themselves, were awaiting a + passage. Loder took a cursory glance at them, then turned back to Eve. + </p> + <p> + “What are they, after all, but men and women?” he said. “They'd understand—every + one of them.” He laughed in his turn; nevertheless he withdrew his arm. + Her feminine thought for conventionalities appealed to him. It was an + acknowledgment of dependency. + </p> + <p> + For a while they sat silent, the light of the street lamp flickering + through the glass of the window, the hum of voices and traffic coming to + them in a continuous rise and fall of sound. At first the position was + interesting; but, as the seconds followed each other, it gradually became + irksome. Loder, watching the varying expressions of Eve's face, grew + impatient of the delay, grew suddenly eager to be alone again in the + fragrant darkness. + </p> + <p> + Impelled by the desire, he leaned forward and opened the window. + </p> + <p> + “Let's find the meaning of this,” he said. “Is there nobody to regulate + the traffic?” As he spoke he half rose and leaned out of the window. There + was a touch of imperious annoyance in his manner. Fresh from the + realization of power, there was something irksome in this commonplace + check to his desires. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it possible to get out of this?” Eve heard him call to the + coachman. Then she heard no more. + </p> + <p> + He had leaned out of the carriage with the intention of looking onward + towards the cause of the delay; instead, by that magnetic attraction that + undoubtedly exists, he looked directly in front of him at the group of + people waiting on the little island—at one man who leaned against + the lamp-post in an attitude of apathy—a man with a pallid, unshaven + face and lustreless eyes, who wore a cap drawn low over his forehead. + </p> + <p> + He looked at this man, and the man saw and returned his glance. For a + space that seemed interminable they held each other's eyes; then very + slowly Loder drew back into the carriage. + </p> + <p> + As he dropped into his seat, Eve glanced at him anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, “has anything happened? You look ill.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to her and tried to smile. + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.” He spoke quickly, but + his voice had suddenly become flat. All the command, all the domination + had dropped away from it. + </p> + <p> + Eve bent close to him, her face lighting up with anxious tenderness. “It + was the excitement,” she said, “the strain of tonight.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her; but he made no attempt to press the fingers that clasped + his own. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, slowly. “Yes. It was the excitement of to-night—and + the reaction.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI + </h2> + <p> + The next morning at eight o'clock, and again without breakfast, Loder + covered the distance between Grosvenor Square and Clifford's Inn. He left + Chilcote's house hastily—with a haste that only an urgent motive + could have driven him to adopt. His steps were quick and uneven as he + traversed the intervening streets; his shoulders lacked their decisive + pose, and his pale face was marked with shadows beneath the eyes—shadows + that bore witness to the sleepless night spent in pacing Chilcote's vast + and lonely room. By the curious effect of circumstances the likeness + between the two men had never been more significantly marked than on that + morning of April 19th, when Loder walked along the pavements crowded with + early workers and brisk with insistent news-venders already alive to the + value of last night's political crisis. + </p> + <p> + The irony of this last element in the day's concerns came to him fully + when one newsboy, more energetic than his fellows, thrust a paper in front + of him. + </p> + <p> + “Sensation in the 'Ouse, sir! Speech by Mr. Chilcote! Government defeat!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Loder stopped and his face reddened. The tide of emotions + still ran strong. His hand went instinctively to his pocket; then his lips + set. He shook his head and walked on. + </p> + <p> + With the same hard expression about his mouth, he turned into Clifford's + Inn, passed through his own doorway, and mounted the stairs. + </p> + <p> + This time there was no milk-can on the threshold of his rooms and the door + yielded to his pressure without the need of a key. With a strange + sensation of reluctance he walked into the narrow passage and paused, + uncertain which room to enter first. As he stood hesitating a voice from + the sitting-room settled the question. + </p> + <p> + “Who's there?” it called, irritably. “What do you want?” + </p> + <p> + Without further ceremony the intruder pushed the door open and entered the + room. As he did so he drew a quick breath—whether of disappointment + or relief it was impossible to say. Whether he had hoped for or dreaded + it, Chilcote was conscious. + </p> + <p> + As Loder entered he was sitting by the cheerless grate, the ashes of + yesterday's fire showing charred and dreary where the sun touched them. + His back was to the light, and about his shoulders was an old plaid rug. + Behind him on the table stood a cup, a teapot, and the can of milk; + farther off a kettle was set to boil upon a tiny spirit-stove. + </p> + <p> + In all strong situations we are more or less commonplace. Loder's first + remark as he glanced round the disordered room seemed strangely + inefficient. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Robins?” he asked, in a brusque voice. His mind teemed with big + considerations, yet this was his first involuntary question. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote had started at the entrance of his visitor; now he sat staring at + him, his hands holding the arms of his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Robins?” Loder asked again. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. She—I—We didn't hit it off. She's gone—went + yesterday.” He shivered and drew the rug about him. + </p> + <p> + “Chilcote—” Loder began, sternly; then he paused. There was + something in the other's look and attitude that arrested him. A change of + expression passed over his own face; he turned about with an abrupt + gesture, pulled off his coat and threw it on a chair; then crossing + deliberately to the fireplace, he began to rake the ashes from the grate. + </p> + <p> + Within a few minutes he had a fire crackling where the bed of dead cinders + had been, and, having finished the task, he rose slowly from his knees, + wiped his hands, and crossed to the table. On the small spirit-stove the + kettle had boiled and the cover was lifting and falling with a tinkling + sound. Blowing out the flame, Loder picked up the teapot, and with hands + that were evidently accustomed to the task set about making the tea. + </p> + <p> + During the whole operation he never spoke, though all the while he was + fully conscious of Chilcote's puzzled gaze. The tea ready, he poured it + into the cup and carried it across the room. + </p> + <p> + “Drink this!” he said, laconically. “The fire will be up presently.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote extended a cold and shaky hand. “You see—” he began. + </p> + <p> + But Loder checked him almost savagely. “I do—as well as though I had + followed you from Piccadilly last night! You've been hanging about, God + knows where, till the small hours of the morning; then you've come back—slunk + back, starving for your damned poison and shivering with cold. You've + settled the first part of the business, but the cold has still to be + reckoned with. Drink the tea. I've something to say to you.” He mastered + his vehemence, and, walking to the window, stood looking down into the + court. His eyes were blank, his face hard; his ears heard nothing but the + faint sound of Chilcote's swallowing, the click of the cup against his + teeth. + </p> + <p> + For a time that seemed interminable he stood motionless; then, when he + judged the tea finished, he turned slowly. Chilcote had drawn closer to + the fire. He was obviously braced by the warmth; and the apathy that hung + about him was to some extent dispelled. Still moving slowly, Loder went + towards him, and, relieving him of the empty cup, stood looking down at + him. + </p> + <p> + “Chilcote,” he said, very quietly, “I've come to fell you that the thing + must end.” + </p> + <p> + After he spoke there was a prolonged pause; then, as if shaken with sudden + consciousness, Chilcote rose. The rug dropped from one shoulder and hung + down ludicrously; his hand caught the back of the chair for support; his + unshaven face looked absurd and repulsive in its sudden expression of + scared inquiry. Loder involuntarily turned away. + </p> + <p> + “I mean it,” he said, slowly. “It's over; we've come to the end.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” Chilcote articulated, blankly. “Why? Why?” In his confusion he + could think of no better word. + </p> + <p> + “Because I throw it up. My side of the bargain's off!” + </p> + <p> + Again Chilcote's lips parted stammeringly. The apathy caused by physical + exhaustion and his recently administered drug was passing from him; the + hopelessly shattered condition of mind and body was showing through it + like a skeleton through a thin covering of flesh. + </p> + <p> + “But why?” he said again. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Still Loder avoided the frightened surprise of his, eyes. “Because I + withdraw,” he answered, doggedly. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly Chilcote's tongue was loosened. “Loder,” he cried, + excitedly, “you can't do it! God! man, you can't do it!” To reassure + himself he laughed—a painfully thin echo of his old, sarcastic + laugh. “If it's a matter of greater opportunity—” he began, “of more + money—” + </p> + <p> + But Loder turned upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Be quiet!” he said, so menacingly that the other stopped. Then by an + effort he conquered himself, “It's not a matter of money, Chilcote,” he + said, quietly; “it's a matter of necessity.” He brought the word out with + difficulty. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote glanced up. “Necessity?” he repeated. “How? Why?” + </p> + <p> + The reiteration roused Loder. “Because there was a great scene in the + House last night,” he began, hurriedly; “because when you go back you'll + find that Sefborough has smashed up over the assassination of Sir William + Brice-Field at Meshed, and that you have made your mark in a big speech; + and because—” Abruptly he stopped. The thing he had come to say—the + thing he had meant to say—would not be said. Either his tongue or + his resolution failed him, and for the instant he stood as silent and + almost as ill at ease as his companion. Then all at once inspiration came + to him, in the suggestion of a wellnigh forgotten argument by which he + might influence Chilcote and save his own self-respect. “It's all over, + Chilcote,” he said, more quietly; “it has run itself out.” And in a dozen + sentences he sketched the story of Lillian Astrupp—her past + relations with himself, her present suspicions. It was not what he had + meant to say; it was not what he had come to say; but it served the + purpose—it saved him humiliation. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote listened to the last word; then, as the other finished, he + dropped nervously back into his chair. “Good heavens! man,” he said, “why + didn't you tell me—why didn't you warn me, instead of filling my + mind with your political position? Your political position!” He laughed + unsteadily. The long spells of indulgence that had weakened his already + maimed faculties showed in the laugh, in the sudden breaking of his voice. + “You must do something, Loder!” he added, nervously, checking his + amusement; “you must do something!” + </p> + <p> + Loder looked down at him. “No,” he said, decisively. “It's your turn now. + It's you who've got to do something.” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote's face turned a shade grayer. “I can't,” he said, below his + breath. + </p> + <p> + “Can't? Oh yes, you can. We can all do—anything. It's not too late; + there's just sufficient time. Chilcote,” he added, suddenly, “don't you + see that the thing has been madness all along—has been like playing + with the most infernal explosives? You may thank whatever you have faith + in that nobody has been smashed up! You are going back. Do you understand + me? You are going back—now, to-day, before it's too late.” There was + a great change in Loder; his strong, imperturbable face was stirred; he + was moved in both voice and manner. Time after time he repeated his + injunction—reasoning, expostulating, insisting. It almost seemed + that he fought some strenuous invisible force rather than the shattered + man before him. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote moved nervously in his seat. It was the first real clash of + personalities. He felt it—recognized it by instinct. The sense of + domination had fallen on him; he knew himself impotent in the other's + hands. Whatever he might attempt in moments of solitude, he possessed no + voice in presence of this invincible second self. For a while he struggled—he + did not fight, he struggled to resist—then, lifting his eyes, he met + Loder's. “And what will you do?” he said, weakly. + </p> + <p> + Loder returned his questioning gaze; but almost immediately he turned + aside. “I?” he said. “Oh, I shall leave London.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII + </h2> + <p> + But Loder did not leave London. And the hour of two on the day following + his dismissal of Chilcote found him again in his sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + He sat at the centre-table surrounded by a cloud of smoke; a pipe was + between his lips and the morning's newspapers lay in a heap beside his + elbow. To the student of humanity his attitude was intensely interesting. + It was the attitude of a man trammelled by the knowledge of his strength. + Before him, as he sat smoking, stretched a future of absolute nothingness; + and towards this blank future one portion of his consciousness—a + struggling and as yet scarcely sentient portion—pushed him + inevitably; while another—a vigorous, persistent, human portion—cried + to him to pause. So actual, so clamorous was this silent mental combat + that had raged unceasingly since the moment of his renunciation that at + last in physical response to it he pushed back his chair. + </p> + <p> + “It's too late!” he said, aloud. “I'm a fool. It's too late!” + </p> + <p> + Then abruptly, astonishingly, as though in direct response to his spoken + thought, the door opened and Chilcote walked into the room. + </p> + <p> + Slowly Loder rose and stared at him. The feeling he acknowledged to + himself was anger; but below the anger a very different sensation ran + riotously strong. + </p> + <p> + And it was in time to this second feeling, this sudden, lawless joy, that + his pulses beat as he turned a cold face on the intruder. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said, sternly. + </p> + <p> + But Chilcote was impervious to sternness. He was mentally shaken and + distressed, though outwardly irreproachable, even to the violets in the + lapel of his coat—the violets that for a week past had been brought + each morning to the door of Loder's rooms by Eve's maid. For one second, + as Loder's eyes' rested on the flowers, a sting of ungovernable jealousy + shot through him; then as suddenly it died away, superseded by another + feeling—a feeling of new, spontaneous joy. Worn by Chilcote or by + himself, the flowers were a symbol! + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said again, in a gentler voice. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote had walked to the table and laid down his hat. His face was white + and the muscles of his lips twitched nervously as he drew off his gloves. + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven, you're here!” he said, shortly. “Give me something to + drink.” + </p> + <p> + In silence Loder brought out the whiskey and set it on the table; then + instinctively he turned aside. As plainly as though he saw the action, he + mentally figured Chilcote's furtive glance, the furtive movement of his + fingers to his waistcoat-pocket, the hasty dropping of the tabloids into + the glass. For an instant the sense of his tacit connivance came to him + sharply; the next, he flung it from him. The human, inner voice was + whispering its old watchword. The strong man has no time to waste over his + weaker brother! + </p> + <p> + When he heard Chilcote lay down his tumbler he looked back again. “Well, + what is it?” he said. “What have you come for?” He strove resolutely to + keep his voice severe, but, try as he might, he could not quite subdue the + eager force that lay behind his words. Once again, as on the night of + their second interchange, life had become a phoenix, rising to fresh + existence even while he sifted its ashes. “Well?” he said, once again. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote had set down his glass. He was nervously passing his handkerchief + across his lips. There was something in the gesture that attracted Loder. + Looking at him more attentively, he saw what his own feelings and the + other's conventional dress had blinded him to—the almost piteous + panic and excitement in his visitor's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Something's gone wrong!” he said, with abrupt intuition. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote started. “Yes—no—that is, yes,” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + Loder moved round the table. “Something's gone wrong,” he repeated. “And + you've come to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + The tone unnerved Chilcote; he suddenly dropped into a chair. “It—it + wasn't my fault,” he began. “I—I have had a horrible time!” + </p> + <p> + Loder's lips tightened. “Yes,” he said, “yes—I understand.” + </p> + <p> + The other glanced up with a gleam of his old suspicion “'Twas all my + nerves, Loder—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Yes, of course.” Loder's interruption was curt. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote eyed him doubtfully. Then recollection took the place of doubt, + and a change passed over his expression. “It wasn't my fault,” he began, + hastily. “On my soul, it wasn't! It was Crapham's beastly fault for + showing her into the morning-room—” + </p> + <p> + Loder kept silent. His curiosity had flared into sudden life at the + other's words, but he feared to break the shattered train of thought even + by a word. + </p> + <p> + In the silence Chilcote moved uneasily. “You see,” he went on, at last, + “when I was here with you I—I felt strong. I—I—” He + stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. When you were here with me you felt strong.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's it. While I was here, I felt I could do the thing. But when I + went home—when I went up to my rooms—” Again he paused, + passing his handkerchief across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “When you went up to your rooms?” Loder strove hard to keep his control. + </p> + <p> + “To my room—? Oh, I—I forget about that. I forget about the + night” He hesitated confusedly. “All I remember is the coming down to + breakfast next morning—this morning—at twelve o'clock—” + </p> + <p> + Loder turned to the table and poured himself out some whiskey. “Yes,” he + acquiesced, in a very quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + At the word Chilcote rose from his seat. His disquietude was very evident. + “Oh, there was breakfast on the table when I came down-stairs—breakfast + with flowers and a horrible, dazzling glare of sun. It was then, Loder, as + I stood and looked into the room, that the impossibility of it all came to + me—that I knew I couldn't stand it—couldn't go on.” + </p> + <p> + Loder swallowed his whiskey slowly. His sense of overpowering curiosity + held him very still; but he made no effort to prompt his companion. + </p> + <p> + Again Chilcote shifted his position agitatedly. “It, had to be done,” he + said, disjointedly. “I had to do it—then and there. The things were + on the bureau—the pens and ink and telegraph forms. They tempted + me.” + </p> + <p> + Loder laid down his glass suddenly. An exclamation rose to his lips, but + he checked it. + </p> + <p> + At the slight sound of the tumbler touching the table Chilcote turned; but + there was no expression on the other's face to affright him. + </p> + <p> + “They tempted me,” he repeated, hastily. “They seemed like magnets—they + seemed to draw me towards them. I sat at the bureau staring at them for a + long time; then a terrible compulsion seized me—something you could + never understand—and I caught up the nearest pen and wrote just what + was in my mind. It wasn't a telegram, properly speaking—it was more + a letter. I wanted you back and I had to make myself plain. The writing of + the message seemed to steady me; the mere forming of the words quieted my + mind. I was almost cool when I got up from the bureau and pressed the bell—” + </p> + <p> + “The bell?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I rang for a servant. I had to send the wire myself, so I had to get + a cab.” His voice rose to irritability. “I pressed the bell several times; + but the thing had gone wrong—'twouldn't work. At last I gave it up + and went into the corridor to call some one.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” In the intense suspense of the moment the word escaped Loder. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I went out of the room; but there at the door, before I could call + anybody, I knocked up against that idiot Greening. He was looking for me—for + you, rather—about some beastly Wark affair. I tried to explain that + I wasn't in a state for business; I tried to shake him off, but he was + worse than Blessington. At last, to be rid of the fellow, I went with him + to the study—” + </p> + <p> + “But the telegram?” Loder began; then again he checked himself. “Yes—yes—I + understand,” he added, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm getting to the telegram! I wish you wouldn't jar me with sudden + questions. I wasn't in the study more than a minute—more than five + or six minutes—” His voice became confused; the strain of the + connected recital was telling upon him. With nervous haste he made a rush + for the end of his story. “I wasn't more than seven or eight minutes in + the study; then, as I came down-stairs, Crapham met me in the hall. He + told me that Lillian Astrupp had called and wished to see me. And that he + had shown her into the morning-room—” + </p> + <p> + “The morning-room?” Loder suddenly stepped back from the table. “The + morning-room? With your telegram lying on the bureau?” + </p> + <p> + His sudden speech and movement startled Chilcote. The blood rushed to his + face, then died out, leaving it ashen. “Don't do that, Loder!” he cried. + “I—I can't bear it!” + </p> + <p> + With an immense effort Loder controlled himself. “Sorry!” he said. “Go + on!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going on! I tell you I'm going on. I got a horrid shock when Chapham + told me. Your story came clattering through my mind. I knew Lillian had + come to see you—I knew there was going to be a scene—” + </p> + <p> + “But the telegram? The telegram?” + </p> + <p> + Chilcote paid no heed to the interruption. He was following his own train + of ideas. “I knew she had come to see you—I knew there was going to + be a scene. When I got to the morning-room my hand was shaking so that I + could scarcely turn the handle; then, as the door opened, I could have + cried out with relief. Eve was there as well!” + </p> + <p> + “Eve?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I don't think I was ever so glad to see her in my life.” He laughed + almost hysterically. “I was quite civil to her, and she was—quite + sweet to me—” Again he laughed. + </p> + <p> + Loder's lips tightened. + </p> + <p> + “You see, it saved the situation. Even if Lillian wanted to be nasty, she + couldn't, while Eve was there. We talked for about ten minutes. We were + quite an amiable trio. Then Lillian told me why she'd called. She wanted + me to make a fourth in a theatre party at the 'Arcadian' to-night, and I—I + was so pleased and so relieved that I said yes!” He paused and laughed + again unsteadily. + </p> + <p> + In his tense anxiety, Loder ground his heel into the floor. “Go on!” he + said, fiercely. “Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” Chilcote exclaimed. “I'm going on—I'm going on.” He passed + his handkerchief across his lips. “We talked for ten minutes or so, and + then Lillian left. I went with her to the hall door, but Chapham was there + too—so I was still safe. She laughed and chatted and seemed in high + spirits as we crossed the hall, and she was still smiling as she waved to + me from her motor. But then, Loder—then, as I stood in the hall, it + all came to me suddenly. I remembered that Lillian must have been alone in + the morning-room before Eve found her! I remembered the telegram! I ran + back to the room, meaning to question Eve as to how long Lillian had been + alone, but she had left the room. I ran to the bureau—but the + telegram wasn't there!” + </p> + <p> + “Gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, gone. That's why I've come straight here.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment they confronted each other. Then, moved by a sudden impulse, + Loder pushed Chilcote aside and crossed the room. An instant later the + opening and shutting of doors, the hasty pulling out of drawers and moving + of boxes, came from the bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Chilcote, shaken and nervous, stood for a minute where his companion had + left him; at last, impelled by curiosity, he too crossed the narrow + passage and entered the second room. + </p> + <p> + The full light streamed in through the open window; the keen spring air + blew freshly across the house-tops; and on the window-sill a band of + grimy, joyous sparrows twittered and preened themselves. In the middle of + the room stood Loder. His coat was off, and round him on chairs and floor + lay an array of waistcoats, gloves, and ties. + </p> + <p> + For a space Chilcote stood in the doorway staring at him; then his lips + parted and he took a step forward. “Loder—” he said, anxiously. + “Loder, what are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + Loder turned. His shoulders were stiff, his face alight with energy. “I'm + going back,” he said, “to unravel the tangle you have made.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + Loder's plan of action was arrived at before he reached Trafalgar Square. + The facts of the case were simple. Chilcote had left an incriminating + telegram on the bureau in the morning-room at Grosvenor Square; by an + unlucky chance Lillian Astrupp had been shown up into that room, where she + had remained alone until the moment that Eve, either by request or by + accident, had found her there. The facts resolved themselves into one + question. What use had Lillian made of those solitary moments? Without + deviation, Loder's mind turned towards one answer. Lillian was not the + woman to lose an opportunity, whether the space at her command were long + or short. True, Eve too had been alone in the room, while Chilcote had + accompanied Lillian to the door; but of this he made small account. Eve + had been there, but Lillian had been there first. Judging by precedent, by + personal character, by all human probability, it was not to be supposed + that anything would have been left for the second comer. + </p> + <p> + So convinced was he that, reaching Trafalgar Square, he stopped and hailed + a hansom. + </p> + <p> + “Cadogan Gardens!” he called. “No. 33.” + </p> + <p> + The moments seemed very few before the cab drew up beside the curb and he + caught his second glimpse of the enamelled door with its silver fittings. + The white and silver gleamed in the sunshine; banks of cream colored + hyacinths clustered on the window-sills, filling the clear air with a warm + and fragrant scent. With that strange sensation of having lived through + the scene before, Loder left the cab and walked up the steps. Instantly he + pressed the bell the door was opened by Lillian's discreet, deferential + man-servant. + </p> + <p> + “Is Lady Astrupp at home?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The man looked thoughtful. “Her ladyship lunched at home, sir—” he + began, cautiously. + </p> + <p> + But Loder interrupted him. “Ask her to see me,” he said, laconically. + </p> + <p> + The servant expressed no surprise. His only comment was to throw the door + wide. + </p> + <p> + “If you'll wait in the white room, sir,” he said, “I'll inform her + ladyship.” Chilcote was evidently a frequent and a favored visitor. + </p> + <p> + In this manner Loder for the second time entered the house so unfamiliar—and + yet so familiar in all that it suggested. Entering the drawing-room, he + had leisure to look about him. It was a beautiful room, large and lofty; + luxury was evident on every hand, but it was not the luxury that palls or + offends. Each object was graceful, and possessed its own intrinsic value. + The atmosphere was too effeminate to appeal to him, but he acknowledged + the taste and artistic delicacy it conveyed. Almost at the moment of + acknowledgment the door opened to admit Lillian. + </p> + <p> + She wore the same gown of pale-colored cloth, warmed and softened by rich + furs, that she had worn on the day she and Chilcote had driven in the + park. + </p> + <p> + She was drawing on her gloves as she came into the room; and pausing near + the door, she looked across at Loder and, laughed in her slow, amused way. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it would be you,” she said, enigmatically. + </p> + <p> + Loder came forward. “You expected me?” he said, guardedly. A sudden + conviction filled him that it was not the evidence of her eyes, but + something at once subtler and more definite, that prompted her recognition + of him. + </p> + <p> + She smiled. “Why should I expect you? On the contrary, I'm waiting to know + why you're here?” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for an instant; then he answered in her own light tone. “As + far as that goes,” he said, “let's make it my duty call-having dined with + you. I'm an old-fashioned person.” + </p> + <p> + For a full second she surveyed him amusedly; then at last she spoke. “My + dear Jack”—she laid particular stress on the name—“I never + imagined you punctilious. I should have thought bohemian would have been + more the word.” + </p> + <p> + Loder felt disconcerted and annoyed. Either, like himself, she was fishing + for information, or she was deliberately playing with him. In his + perplexity he glanced across the room towards the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + Lillian saw the look. “Won't you sit down?” she said, indicating the + couch. “I promise not to make you smoke. I sha'n't even ask you to take + off your gloves!” + </p> + <p> + Loder made no movement. His mind was unpleasantly upset. It was nearly a + fortnight since he had seen Lillian, and in the interval her attitude had + changed, and the change puzzled him. It might mean the philosophy of a + woman who, knowing herself without adequate weapons, withdraws from a + combat that has proved fruitless; or it might imply the merely catlike + desire to toy with a certainty. He looked quickly at the delicate face, + the green eyes somewhat obliquely set, the unreliable mouth; and instantly + he inclined to the latter theory. The conviction that she possessed the + telegram filled him suddenly, and with it came the desire to put his + belief to the test—to know beyond question whether her smiling + unconcern meant malice or mere entertainment. + </p> + <p> + “When you first came into the room,” he said, quietly, “you said 'I + thought it would be you.' Why did you say that?” + </p> + <p> + Again she smiled—the smile that might be malicious or might be + merely amused. “Oh,” she answered at last, “I only meant that though I had + been told Jack Chilcote wanted me, it wasn't Jack Chilcote I expected to + see!” + </p> + <p> + After her statement there was a pause. Loder's position was difficult. + Instinctively convinced that, strong in the possession of her proof, she + was enjoying his tantalized discomfort, he yet craved the actual evidence + that should set his suspicions to rest. Acting upon the desire, he made a + new beginning. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why I came?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Lillian looked up innocently. “It's so hard to be certain of anything in + this world,” she said. “But one is always at liberty to guess.” + </p> + <p> + Again he was perplexed. Her attitude was not quite the attitude of one who + controls the game, and yet—He looked at her with a puzzled scrutiny. + Women for him had always spelled the incomprehensible; he was at his best, + his strongest, his surest in the presence of men. Feeling his + disadvantage, yet determined to gain his end, he made a last attempt. + </p> + <p> + “How did you amuse yourself at Grosvenor Square this morning before Eve + came to you?” he asked. The effort was awkwardly blunt, but it was direct. + </p> + <p> + Lillian was buttoning her glove. She did not raise her head as he spoke, + but her fingers paused in their task. For a second she remained + motionless, then she looked up slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” she said, sweetly, “so I was right in my guess? You did come to find + out whether I sat in the morning-room with my hands in my lap—or + wandered about in search of entertainment?” + </p> + <p> + Loder colored with annoyance and apprehension. Every look, every tone of + Lillian's was distasteful to him. No microscope could have revealed her + more fully to him than did his own eyesight. But it was not the moment for + personal antipathies; there were other interests than his own at stake. + With new resolution he returned her glance. + </p> + <p> + “Then I must still ask my first question, why did you say, 'I thought it + would be you?'” His gaze was direct—so direct that it disconcerted + her. She laughed a little uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Because I knew.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—” she began; then again she laughed. “Because,” she added, + quickly, as if moved by a fresh impulse, “Jack Chilcote made it very + obvious to any one who was in his morning-room at twelve o'clock today + that it would be you and not he who would be found filling his place this + afternoon! It's all very well to talk about honor, but when one walks into + an empty room and sees a telegram as long as a letter open on a bureau—” + </p> + <p> + But her sentence was never finished. Loder had heard what he came to hear; + any confession she might have to offer was of no moment in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” he broke in, brusquely, “don't trouble! I should make a + most unsatisfactory father confessor.” He spoke quickly. His color was + still high, but not of annoyance. His suspense was transformed into + unpleasant certainty; but the exchange left him surer of himself. His + perplexity had dropped to a quiet sense of self-reliance; his paramount + desire was for solitude in which to prepare for the task that lay before + him; the most congenial task the world possessed—the unravelling of + Chilcote's tangled skeins. Looking into Lillian's eyes, he smiled. + “Good-bye!” he said, holding out his hand. “I think we've finished—for + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + She slowly extended her fingers. Her expression and attitude were slightly + puzzled—a puzzlement that was either spontaneous or singularly well + assumed. As their hands touched she smiled again. + </p> + <p> + “Will you drop in at the 'Arcadian' to-night?” she said. “It's the + dramatized version of 'Other Men's Shoes!' The temptation to make you see + it was too irresistible—as you know.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause while she waited for his answer—her head inclined + to one side, her green eyes gleaming. + </p> + <p> + Loder, conscious of her regard, hesitated for a moment. Then his face + cleared. “Right!” he said, slowly. “'The Arcadian' tonight!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIX + </h2> + <p> + Loder's frame of mind as he left Cadogan Gardens was peculiar. Once more + he was living in the present—the forceful, exhilarating present, and + the knowledge braced him. Upon one point his mind was satisfied. Lillian + Astrupp had found the telegram, and it remained to him to render her find + valueless. How he proposed to do this, how he proposed to come out + triumphant in face of such a situation, was a matter that as yet was + shapeless in his mind; nevertheless, the danger—the sense of + impending conflict—had a savor of life after the inaction of the day + and night just passed. Chilcote in his weakness and his entanglement had + turned to him; and he in his strength and capacity had responded to the + appeal. + </p> + <p> + His step was firm and his bearing assured as he turned into Grosvenor + Square and walked towards the familiar house. + </p> + <p> + The habit of self-deceit is as insidious and tenacious as any vice. For + one moment on the night of his great speech, as he leaned out of + Chilcote's carriage and met Chilcote's eyes, Loder had seen himself—and + under the shock of revelation had taken decisive action. But in the hours + subsequent to that action the plausible, inner voice had whispered + unceasingly, soothing his wounded self-esteem, rebuilding stone by stone + the temple of his egotism; until at last when Chilcote, panic-stricken at + his own action, had burst into his rooms ready to plead or to coerce, he + had found no need for either coercion or entreaty. By a power more subtle + and effective than any at his command, Loder had been prepared for his + coming—unconsciously ready with an acquiescence before his appeal + had been made. It was the fruit of this preparation, the inevitable + outcome of it, that strengthened his step and steadied his hand as he + mounted the steps and opened the hall door of Chilcote's house on that + eventful afternoon. + </p> + <p> + The dignity, the air of quiet solidity, impressed him as it never failed + to do, as he crossed the large hall and ascended the stairs—the same + stairs that he had passed down almost as an outcast not so many hours + before. He was filled with the sense of things regained; belief in his own + star lifted him as it had done a hundred times before in these same + surroundings. + </p> + <p> + He quickened his steps as the sensation came to him. Then, reaching the + head of the stairs, he turned directly towards Eve's sitting-room, and, + gaining the door, knocked. The strength of his eagerness, the quick + beating of his pulse as he waited for a response, surprised him. He had + told himself many times that his passion, however strong, would never + again conquer as it had done two nights ago—and the fact that he had + come thus candidly to Eve's room was to his mind a proof that temptation + could be dared. Nevertheless there was something disconcerting to a strong + man in this merely physical perturbation; and when Eve's voice came to + him, giving permission to enter, he paused for an instant to steady + himself; then with sudden decision he opened the door and walked into the + room. + </p> + <p> + The blinds were partly drawn, there was a scent of violets in the air, and + a fire glowed warmly in the grate. He noted these things carefully, + telling himself that a man should always be alertly sensible of his + surroundings; then all at once the nice balancing of detail suddenly gave + way. He forgot everything but the one circumstance that Eve was standing + in the window—her back to the light, her face towards him. With his + pulses beating faster and an unsteady sensation in his brain, he moved + forward holding out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Eve—?” he said below his breath. + </p> + <p> + But Eve remained motionless. As he came into the room she had glanced at + him—a glance of quick, searching question; then with equal + suddenness she had averted her eyes. As he drew close to her now, she + remained immovable. + </p> + <p> + “Eve—” he said again. “I wanted to see you—I wanted to explain + about yesterday and about this morning.” He paused, suddenly disturbed. + The full remembrance of the scene in the brougham had surged up at sight + of her—had risen a fierce, unquenchable recollection. “Eve—” + he began again in a new, abrupt tone. + </p> + <p> + And then it was that Eve showed herself in a fresh light. From his + entrance into the room she had stayed motionless, save for her first + glance of acute inquiry; but now her demeanor changed. For almost the + first time in Loder's knowledge of her the vitality and force that he had + vaguely apprehended below her quiet, serene exterior sprang up like a + flame within whose radius things are illuminated. With a quick gesture she + turned towards him, her warm color deepening, her eyes suddenly alight. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” she said, “I understand. Don't try to explain! Can't you + see that it's enough to—to see you as you are—?” + </p> + <p> + Loder was surprised. Remembering their last passionate scene, and the + damper Chilcote's subsequent presence must inevitably have cast upon it, + he had expected to be doubtfully received; but the reality of the + reception left him bewildered. Eve's manner was not that of the ill-used + wife; its vehemence, its note of desire and depreciation, were more + suggestive of his own ardent seizing of the present, as distinguished from + past or future. With an odd sense of confusion he turned to her afresh. + </p> + <p> + “Then I am forgiven?” he said. And unconsciously, as he moved nearer, he + touched her arm. + </p> + <p> + At his touch she started. All the yielding sweetness, all the submission, + that had marked her two nights ago was gone; in its place she was + possessed by a curious excitement that stirred while it perplexed. + </p> + <p> + Loder, moved by the sensation, took another step forward. “Then I am + forgiven?” he repeated, more softly. + </p> + <p> + Her face was averted as he spoke, but he felt hen arm quiver; and when at + last she lifted her head, their eyes met. Neither spoke, but in an instant + Loder's arms were round her. + </p> + <p> + For a long, silent space they stood holding each other closely. Then, with + a sharp movement, Eve freed Herself. Her color was still high, her eyes + still peculiarly bright, but the bunch of violets she had worn in her belt + had fallen to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “John—” she said, quickly; but on the word her breath caught. With a + touch of nervousness she stooped to pick up the flowers. + </p> + <p> + Loder noticed both voice and gesture. “What is it?” he said. “What were + you going to say?” + </p> + <p> + But she made no answer. For a second longer she searched for the violets; + then, as he bent to assist her, she stood up quickly and laughed—a + short, embarrassed laugh. + </p> + <p> + “How absurd and nervous I am!” she exclaimed. “Like a schoolgirl instead + of a woman of twenty-four. You must help me to be sensible.” Her cheeks + still burned, her manner was still excited, like one who holds an emotion + or an impulse at bay. + </p> + <p> + Loder looked at her uncertainly. “Eve—” he began afresh with his + odd, characteristic perseverance, but she instantly checked him. There was + a finality, a faint suggestion of fear, in her protest. + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” she said. “Don't! I don't want explanations. I want to—to + enjoy the moment without having things analyzed or smoothed away. Can't + you understand? Can't you see that I'm wonderfully, terribly happy to—to + have you—as you are!” Again her voice broke—a break that might + have been a laugh or a sob. + </p> + <p> + The sound was an emotional crisis, as such a sound invariably is. It + arrested and steadied her. For a moment she stood absolutely still; then, + with something very closely resembling her old repose of manner, she + stooped again and quietly picked up the flowers still lying at her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she said, quietly, “I must say what I've wanted to say all along. + How does it feel to be a great man?” Her manner was controlled, she looked + at him evenly and directly; save for the faint vibration in her voice + there was nothing to indicate the tumult of a moment ago. + </p> + <p> + But Loder was still uncertain. He caught her hand, his eyes searching + hers. + </p> + <p> + “But Eve—” he began. + </p> + <p> + Then Eve played the last card in her mysterious game. Laughing quickly and + nervously, she freed her hand and laid it over his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she said. “Not one word! All this past fortnight has belonged to + you; now it's my turn. To-day is mine.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXX + </h2> + <p> + And so, once again, the woman conquered. Whatever Eve's intentions were, + whatever she wished to evade or ward off, she was successful in gaining + her end. For more than two hours she kept Loder at her side. There may + have been moments in those two hours when the tension was high, when the + efforts she made to interest and hold him were somewhat strained. But if + this was so, it escaped the notice of the one person concerned; for it was + long after tea had been served, long after Eve had offered to do penance + for her monopoly of him by driving him to Chilcote's club, that Loder + realized with any degree of distinctness that it was she and not he who + had taken the lead in their interview; that it was she and not he who had + bridged the difficult silences and given a fresh direction to dangerous + channels of talk. It was long before he recognized this; but it was still + longer before he realized the far more potent fact that, without any + coldness, without any lessening of the subtle consideration she always + showed him, she had given him no further opportunity of making love. + </p> + <p> + Talking continuously, elated with the sense of conflict still to come, he + drove with her to the club. Considering that drive in the light of after + events, his own frame of mind invariably filled him with incredulity. + </p> + <p> + In the eyes of any sane man his position was not worth an hour's purchase; + yet in the blind self-confidence of the moment he would not have changed + places with Fraide himself. The great song of Self was sounding in his + ears as he drove through the crowded streets, conscious of the cool, crisp + air, of Eve's close presence, of the numberless infinitesimal things that + went to make up the value of life. It was this acknowledgment of + personality that upheld him; the personality, the power that had carried + him unswervingly through eleven colorless years; that had impelled him + towards this new career when the new career had first been opened to him; + that had hewn a way for him in this fresh existence against colossal odds. + The indomitable force that had trampled out Chilcote's footmarks in public + life, in private life—in love. It was a triumphant paean that + clamored in his ears, something persistent and prophetic with an undernote + of menace. The cry of the human soul that has dared to stand alone. + </p> + <p> + His glance was keen and bright as he waited for a moment at the carriage + door and took Eve's hand before entering the club. + </p> + <p> + “You're dining out to-night?” he said. His fingers, always tenacious and + masterful, continued to hold hers. The compunction that had driven him + temporarily towards sacrifice had passed. His pride, his confidence, and + with them his desire, had flowed back in full measure. + </p> + <p> + Eve, watching him attentively, paled a little. “Yes,” she said, “I'm + dining with the Bramfells.” + </p> + <p> + “What time will you get home?” He scarcely realized why he put the + question. The song of Self still sounded triumphantly, and he responded + without reflection. + </p> + <p> + His eyes held hers, his fingers pressed her hand; the intense mastery of + his will passed through her in a sudden sense of fear. Her lips parted in + deprecation, but he—closely attentive of her expression—spoke + again quickly. + </p> + <p> + “When can I see you?” he asked, very quietly. + </p> + <p> + Again she was about to speak. She leaned forward, as if some thought long + suppressed trembled on her lips; then her courage or her desire failed + her. She leaned back, letting her lashes droop over her eyes. “I shall be + home at eleven,” she said below her breath. + </p> + <p> + Loder dined with Lakely at Chilcote's club; and so absorbing were the + political interests of the hour—the resignation of Sir Robert + Sefborough, the King's summoning of Fraide, the probable features of the + new ministry—that it was after nine o'clock when at last he freed + himself and drove to the “Arcadian” Theatre. + </p> + <p> + The sound of music came to him as he entered the theatre—light, + measured music suggestive of tiny streams, toy lambs, and painted + shepherdesses. It sounded singularly inappropriate to his mood—as + inappropriate as the theatre itself with its gay gilding, its pale tones + of pink and blue. It was the setting of a different world—a world of + laughter, light thoughts, and shallow impulses, in which he had no part. + He halted for an instant outside the box to which the attendant had shown + him; then, as the door was thrown open, he straightened himself resolutely + and stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + It was the interval between the first and second acts. + </p> + <p> + The box was in shadow, and Loder's first impression was of voices and + rustling skirts, broken in upon by the murmur of frequent, amused + laughter; later, as his eyes grew accustomed to the light, he + distinguished the occupants—two women and a man. The man was + speaking as he entered, and the story he was relating was evidently + interesting from the faint exclamations of question and delight that + punctuated it in the listeners' higher, softer voices. As the new-comer + entered they all three turned and looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, here comes the legislator!” exclaimed Leonard Kaine. For it was he + who formed the male element in the party. + </p> + <p> + “The Revolutionary, Lennie!” Lillian corrected, softly. “Bramfell says he + has changed the whole face of things—” She laughed softly and + meaningly as she closed her fan. “So good of you to come, Jack!” she + added. “Let me introduce you to Miss Esseltyn; I don't think you two have + met. This is Mr. Chilcote, Mary—the great, new Mr. Chilcote.” Again + she laughed. + </p> + <p> + Loder bowed and moved to the front of the box, nodding to Kaine as he + passed. + </p> + <p> + “It's only for an hour,” he explained to Lillian. “I have an appointment + for eleven.” He turned and bowed to the third occupant of the box—a + remarkably young and well-dressed girl with wide-awake eyes and a + retrousse nose. + </p> + <p> + “Only an hour! Oh, how unkind! How should I punish him, Lennie?” Lillian + looked round at Kaine with a lingering, caressing glance. + </p> + <p> + He bent towards her in quick response and answered in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + She laughed and replied in an equally low tone. + </p> + <p> + Loder, to whom both remarks had been inaudible dropped into the vacant + seat beside Mary Esseltyn. He had the unsettled feeling that things were + not falling out exactly as he had calculated. + </p> + <p> + “What is the play like?” he hazarded as he looked towards his companion. + At all times social trivialities bored him; to-night they were + intolerable. He had come to fight, but all at once it seemed that there + was no opponent. Lillian's attitude disturbed him; her careless + graciousness, her evident ignoring of him for Kaine, might mean nothing—but + also it might mean much. + </p> + <p> + So he speculated as he put his question and spurred his attention towards + the girl's answer; but with the speculation came the resolve to hold his + own—to meet his enemy upon whatever ground she chose to appropriate. + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at him with interest. She, too, had heard of his triumph. + </p> + <p> + “It is a good play,” she responded. “I like it better than the book. + You've read the book, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” Loder tried hard to fix his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “It's amusing—but far-fetched.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” He picked up the programme lying on the edge of the box. His + ears were strained to catch the tone of Lillian's voice as she laughed and + whispered with Kaine. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; men exchanging identities, you know.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up and caught the girl's self-possessed glance. “Oh?” he said. + “Indeed?” Then again he looked away. It was intolerable this feeling of + being caged up! A sense of anger crept through his mind. It almost seemed + that Lillian had brought him there to prove that she had finished with him—had + cast him aside, having used him for the day's excitement as she had used + her poodles, her Persian cats, her crystal-gazing. All at once the + impotency and uncertainty of his position goaded him. Turning swiftly in + his seat, he glanced back to where she sat, slowly swaying her fan, her + pale, golden hair and her pale-colored gown delicately silhouetted against + the background of the box. + </p> + <p> + “What's your idea of the play, Lillian?” he said, abruptly. To his own + ears there was a note of challenge in his voice. + </p> + <p> + She looked round languidly. “Oh, it's quite amusing,” she said. “It makes + a delicious farce—absolutely French.” + </p> + <p> + “French?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite. Don't you think so, Lennie?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite,” Kaine agreed. + </p> + <p> + “They mean that it's so very light—and yet so very subtle, Mr. + Chilcote,” Mary Esseltyn explained. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” he said. “Then my imagination was at fault. I thought the piece + was serious.” + </p> + <p> + “Serious!” Lillian smiled again. “Why, where's your sense of humor? The + motive of the play debars all seriousness.” + </p> + <p> + Loder looked down at the programme still between his hands. “What is the + motive?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Lillian waved her fan once or twice, then closed it softly. “Love is the + motive,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Now the balancing—the adjusting of impression and inspirations, of + all processes in life, the most delicately fine. The simple sound of the + word “love” coming at that precise juncture changed the whole current of + Loder's thought. It fell like a seed; and like a seed in ultra-productive + soil, it bore fruit with amazing rapidity. + </p> + <p> + The word itself was small and the manner in which it was spoken trivial, + but Loder's mind was attracted and held by it. The last time it had met + his ears his environment had been vastly different; and this echo of it in + an uncongenial atmosphere stung him to resentment. The vision of Eve, the + thought of Eve, became suddenly dominant. + </p> + <p> + “Love?” he repeated, coldly. “So love is the motive?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” This time it was Kaine who responded in his methodical, contented + voice. “The motive of the play is love, as Lillian says. And when was love + ever serious in a three-act comedy—on or off the stage?” He leaned + forward in his seat, screwed in his eye-glass, and lazily scanned the + stalls. + </p> + <p> + The orchestra was playing a Hungarian dance—its erratic harmonies + and wild alternations of expression falling abruptly across the pinks and + blues, the gilding and lights of the pretty, conventional theatre. + Something in the suggestion of unfitness appealed to Loder. It was the + force of the real as opposed to the ideal. With a new expression on his + face, he turned again to Kaine. + </p> + <p> + “And how does it work?” he said. “This treatment that you find so—French?” + </p> + <p> + His voice as well as his expression had changed. He still spoke quietly, + but he spoke with interest. He was no longer conscious of his vague and + uneasiness; a fresh chord had been struck in his mind, and his curiosity + had responded to it. For the first time it occurred to him that love—the + dangerous, mysterious garden whose paths had so suddenly stretched out + before his own feet—was a pleasure-ground that possessed many doors—and + an infinite number of keys. He was stirred by the desire to peer through + another entrance than his own, to see the secret, alluring byways from + another stand-point. He waited with interest for the answer to his + question. + </p> + <p> + For a second or two Kaine continued to survey the house; then his + eye-glass dropped from his eye and he turned round. + </p> + <p> + “To understand the thing,” he said, pleasantly, “you must have read the + book. Have you read the book?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Kaine,” Mary Esseltyn interrupted, “Mr. Chilcote hasn't read the + book.” + </p> + <p> + Lillian laughed. “Outline the story for him, Lennie,” she said. “I love to + see other people taking pains.” + </p> + <p> + Kaine glanced at her admiringly. “Well, to begin with,” he said, amiably, + “two men, an artist and a millionaire, exchange lives. See?” + </p> + <p> + “You may presume that he does see, Lennie.” + </p> + <p> + “Right! Well, then, as I say, these beggars change identities. They're as + like as pins; and to all appearances one chap's the other chap—and + the other chap's the first chap. See?” + </p> + <p> + Loder laughed. The newly quickened interest was enhanced by treading on + dangerous ground. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they change for a lark, of course, but there's one fact they both + overlook. They're men, you know, and they forget these little things!” He + laughed delightedly. “They overlook the fact that one of 'em has got a + wife!” + </p> + <p> + There was a crash of music from the orchestra. Loder sat straighter in his + seat; he was conscious that the blood had rushed into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed?” he said, quickly. “One of them had a wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” Again Kaine chuckled. “And the point of the joke is that the + wife is the least larky person under the sun. See?” + </p> + <p> + A second hot wave passed over Loder's face; a sense of mental disgust + filled him. This, then, was the wonderful garden seen from another + stand-point! He looked from Lillian, graceful, sceptical, and shallow, to + the young girl beside him, so frankly modern in her appreciation of life. + This, then, was love as seen by the eyes of the world—the world that + accepts, judges, and condemns in a slang phrase or two! Very slowly the + blood receded from his face. + </p> + <p> + “And the end of the story?” he asked, in a strained voice. + </p> + <p> + “The end? Oh, usual end, of course. Chap makes a mess of things and the + bubble bursts.” + </p> + <p> + “And the end of the wife?” + </p> + <p> + “The end of the wife?” Lillian broke in, with a little laugh. “Why, the + end of all stupid people who, instead of going through life with a lot of + delightfully human stumbles, come just one big cropper. She naturally ends + in the divorce court!” + </p> + <p> + They all laughed boisterously. Then laughter, story, and denouement were + all drowned in a tumultuous crash of music. The orchestra ceased; there + was a slight hum of applause; and the curtain rose on the second act of + the comedy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXI + </h2> + <p> + A few minutes before the curtain fell on the second act of 'Other Men's + Shoes' Loder rose from his seat and made his apologies to Lillian. + </p> + <p> + At any other moment he might have pondered over her manner of accepting + them—the easy indifference with which she let him go. But vastly + keener issues were claiming his attention, issues whose results were wide + and black. + </p> + <p> + He left the theatre, and, refusing the overtures of cabmen, set himself to + walk to Chilcote's house. His face was hard and emotionless as he hurried + forward, but the chaos in his mind found expression in the unevenness of + his pace. To a strong man the confronting of difficulties is never + alarming and is often fraught with inspiration; but this applies + essentially to the difficulties evolved through the weakness, the folly, + or the force of another; when they arise from within the matter is of + another character. It is in presence of his own soul—and in that + presence alone—that a man may truly measure himself. + </p> + <p> + As Loder walked onward, treading the whole familiar length of + traffic-filled street, he realized for the first time that he was standing + before that solemn tribunal that the hour had come when he must answer to + himself for himself. The longer and deeper an oblivion the more painful + the awakening. For months the song of self had beaten about his ears, + deadening all other sounds; now abruptly that song had ceased—not + considerately, not lingeringly, but with a suddenness that made the + succeeding silence very terrible. + </p> + <p> + He walked onward, keeping his direction unseeingly. He was passing through + the fire as surely as though actual flames rose about his feet; and + whatever the result, whatever the fibre of the man who emerged from the + ordeal, the John Loder who had hewn his way through the past weeks would + exist no more. The triumphant egotist—the strong man—who, by + his own strength, had kept his eyes upon one point, refusing to see in + other directions, had ceased to be. + </p> + <p> + Keen though it was, his realization of this crisis in his life had come + with characteristic slowness. When Lillian Astrupp had given her dictum, + when the music of the orchestra had ceased and the curtain risen on the + second act of the play, nothing but a sense of stupefaction had filled his + mind. In that moment the great song was silenced, not by any portentous + episode, not by any incident that could have lent dignity to its end, but—with + the full measure of life's irony—by a trivial social commonplace. In + the first sensation of blank loss his faculties had been numbed; in the + quarter of an hour that followed the rise of the curtain he had sat + staring at the stage, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, filled with the + enormity of the void that suddenly surrounded him. Then, from habit, from + constitutional tendency, he had begun slowly and perseveringly to draw + first one thread and then another from the tangle of his thoughts—to + forge with doubt and difficulty the chain that was to draw him towards the + future. + </p> + <p> + It was upon this same incomplete and yet tenacious chain that his mind + worked as he traversed the familiar streets and at last gained the house + he had so easily learned to call home. + </p> + <p> + As he inserted the latch-key and felt it move smoothly in the lock, a + momentary revolt against his own judgment, his own censorship swung him + sharply towards reaction. But it is only the blind who can walk without a + tremor on the edge of an abyss, and there was no longer a bandage across + his eyes. The reaction flared up like a strip of lighted paper; then, like + a strip of lighted paper, it dropped back to ashes. He pushed the door + open and slowly crossed the hall. + </p> + <p> + The mounting of a staircase is often the index to a man's state of mind. + As Loder ascended the stairs of Chilcote's house his shoulders lacked + their stiffness, his head was no longer erect; he moved as though his feet + were weighted. He had ceased to be the man of achievement whose smallest + opinion compels consideration; in the privacy of solitude he was the mere + human flotsam to which he had once compared himself—the flotsam + that, dreaming it has found a harbor, wakes to find itself the prey of the + incoming tide. + </p> + <p> + He paused at the head of the stairs to rally his resolutions; then, still + walking heavily, he passed down the corridor to Eve's room. It was + suggestive of his character that, having made his decision, he did not + dally over its performance. Without waiting to knock, he turned the handle + and walked into the room. + </p> + <p> + It looked precisely as it always looked, but to Loder the rich, subdued + coloring of books and flowers—the whole air of culture and repose + that the place conveyed—seemed to hold a deeper meaning than before; + and it was on the instant that his eyes, crossing the inanimate objects, + rested on their owner that the true force of his position, the enormity of + the task before him, made itself plain. Realization came to him with + vivid, overwhelming force; and it must be accounted to his credit, in the + summing of his qualities, that then, in that moment of trial, the thought + of retreat, the thought of yielding did not present itself. + </p> + <p> + Eve was standing by the mantel-piece. She wore a beautiful gown, a long + string of diamonds was twisted about her neck, and her soft, black hair + was coiled high after a foreign fashion, and held in place by a large + diamond comb. As he entered she turned hastily, almost nervously, and + looked at him with the rapid, searching glance he had learned to expect + from her; then, almost directly, her expression changed to one of quick + concern. With a faint exclamation of alarm she stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” she said. “You look like a ghost.” + </p> + <p> + Loder made no answer. Moving into the room, he paused by the oak table + that stood between the fireplace and the door. + </p> + <p> + They made an unconscious tableau as they stood there—he with his + hard, set face, she with her heightened color, her inexplicably bright + eyes. They stood completely silent for a space—a space that for + Loder held no suggestion of time; then, finding the tension unbearable, + Eve spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “Has anything happened?” she asked. “Is any thing wrong?” + </p> + <p> + Had he been less engrossed the intensity of her concern might have struck + him; but in a mind so harassed as his there was only room for one + consideration—the consideration of himself. The sense of her + question reached him, but its significance left him untouched. + </p> + <p> + “Is anything wrong?” she reiterated for the second time. + </p> + <p> + By an effort he raised his eyes. No man, he thought, since the beginning + of the world was ever set a task so cruel as his. Painfully and slowly his + lips parted. + </p> + <p> + “Everything in the world is wrong,” he said, in a slow, hard voice. + </p> + <p> + Eve said nothing but her color suddenly deepened. + </p> + <p> + Again Loder was unobservant. But with the dogged resolution that marked + him he forced himself to his task. + </p> + <p> + “You despise lies,” he said, at last. “Tell me what you would think of a + man whose whole life was one elaborated lie?” The words were slightly + exaggerated, but their utterance, their painfully brusque sincerity, + precluded all suggestion of effect. Resolutely holding her gaze he + repeated his question. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me! Answer me! I want to know.” + </p> + <p> + Eve's attitude was difficult to read. She stood twisting the string of + diamonds between her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me?” he said again. + </p> + <p> + She continued to look at him for a moment; then, as if some fresh impulse + moved her, she turned away from him towards the fire. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” she said. “We—I—I could not set myself to judge—any + one.” + </p> + <p> + Loder held himself rigidly in hand. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, quietly, “I was at the `Arcadian' to-night. The play was + 'Other Men's Shoes.' I suppose you've read the book 'Other Men's Shoes'?” + </p> + <p> + She was leaning on the mantel-piece and her face was invisible to him. + “Yes, I have read it,” she said, without looking round. + </p> + <p> + “It is the story of an extraordinary likeness between two men. Do you + believe such a likeness possible? Do you think such a thing could exist?” + He spoke with difficulty; his brain and tongue both felt numb. + </p> + <p> + Eve let the diamond chain slip from her fingers. “Yes,” she said, + nervously. “Yes, I do believe it. Such things have been—” + </p> + <p> + Loder caught at the words. “You're quite right,” he said, quickly. “You're + quite right. The thing is possible—I've proved it. I know a man so + like me that you, even you, could not tell us apart.” + </p> + <p> + Eve was silent, still averting her face. + </p> + <p> + In dire difficulty he labored on. “Eve,” he began once more, “such a + likeness is a serious thing—a terrible danger—a terrible + temptation. Those who have no experience of it cannot possibly gauge its + pitfalls—” Again he paused, but again the silent figure by the + fireplace gave him no help. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he exclaimed, suddenly, “if you only knew, if you only guessed what + I'm trying to say—” The perplexity, the whole harassed suffering of + his mind showed in the words. Loder, the strong, the resourceful, the + self-contained, was palpably, painfully at a loss. There was almost a note + of appeal in the vibration of his voice. + </p> + <p> + And Eve, standing by the fireplace, heard and understood. In that moment + of comprehension all that had held her silent, all the conflicting motives + that had forbidden speech, melted away before the unconscious demand for + help. Quietly and yet quickly she turned, her whole face transfigured by a + light that seemed to shine from within—something singularly soft and + tender. + </p> + <p> + “There's no need to say anything,” she said, simply, “because I know.” + </p> + <p> + It came quietly, as most great revelations come. Her voice was low and + free from any excitement, her face beautiful in its complete + unconsciousness of self. In that supreme moment all her thought, all her + sympathy was for the man—and his suffering. + </p> + <p> + To Loder there was a space of incredulity; then his brain slowly swung to + realization. “You know?” he repeated, blankly. “You know?” + </p> + <p> + Without answering she walked to a cabinet that stood in the window, + unlocked a drawer, and drew out several sheets of flimsy white paper, + crumpled in places and closely covered with writing. Without a word she + carried them back and held them out. + </p> + <p> + He took them in silence, scanned them, then looked up. + </p> + <p> + In a long, worthless pause their eyes met. It was as if each looked + speechlessly into the other's heart, seeing the passions, the + contradictions, the shortcomings that went to the making of both. In that + silence they drew closer together than they could have done through a + torrent of words. There was no asking of forgiveness, no elaborate + confession on either side; in the deep, eloquent pause they mutually saw + and mutually understood. + </p> + <p> + “When I came into the morning-room to-day,” Eve said, at last, “and saw + Lillian Astrupp reading that telegram, nothing could have seemed further + from me than the thought that I should follow her example. It was not + until afterwards; not until—he came into the room; until I saw that + you, as I believed, had fallen back again from what I respected to what I + despised—that I knew how human I really was. As I watched them laugh + and talk I felt suddenly that I was alone again—terribly alone. I—I + think—I believe I was jealous in that moment—” She hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Eve!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + But she broke in quickly on the word. “I felt different in that moment. I + didn't care about honor—or things like honor. After they had gone it + seemed to me that I had missed something—something that they + possessed. Oh, you don't know what a woman feels when she is jealous!” + Again she paused. “It was then that the telegram, and the thought of + Lillian's amused smile as she had read it, came to my mind. Feeling as I + did—acting on what I felt—I crossed to the bureau and picked + it up. In one second I had seen enough to make it impossible to draw back. + Oh, it may have been dishonorable, it may have been mean, but I wonder if + any woman in the world would have done otherwise! I crumpled up the papers + just as they were and carried them to my own room.” + </p> + <p> + From the first to the last word of Eve's story Loder's eyes never left her + face. Instantly she had finished his voice broke forth in irrepressible + question. In that wonderful space of time he had learned many things. All + his deductions, all his apprehensions had been scattered and disproved. He + had seen the true meaning of Lillian Astrupp's amused indifference—the + indifference of a variable, flippant nature that, robbed of any real + weapon for mischief, soon tires of a game that promises to be too arduous. + He saw all this and understood it with a rapidity born of the moment; + nevertheless, when Eve ceased to speak the question that broke from him + was not connected with this great discovery—was not even suggestive + of it. It was something quite immaterial to any real issue, but something + that overshadowed every consideration in the world. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, “tell me your first thought? Your first thought after the + shock and the surprise—when you remembered me?” + </p> + <p> + There was a fresh pause, but one of very short duration; then Eve met his + glance fearlessly and frankly. The same pride and dignity, the same + indescribable tenderness that had responded to his first appeal shone in + her face. + </p> + <p> + “My first thought was a great thankfulness,” she said, simply. “A + thankfulness that you—that no man—could ever understand.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXII + </h2> + <p> + As she finished speaking Eve did not lower her eyes. To her there was no + suggestion of shame in her thoughts or her words; but to Loder, watching + and listening, there was a perilous meaning contained in both. + </p> + <p> + “Thankfulness?” he repeated, slowly. From his newly stirred sense of + responsibility pity and sympathy were gradually rising. He had never seen + Eve as he saw her now, and his vision was all the clearer for the long + oblivion. With a poignant sense of compassion and remorse, the knowledge + of her youth came to him—the youth that some women preserve in the + midst of the world, when circumstances have permitted them to see much but + to experience little. + </p> + <p> + “Thankfulness?” he said again, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + A slight smile touched her lips. “Yes,” she answered, softly. + “Thankfulness that my trust had been rightly placed.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke simply and confidently, but the words struck Loder more sharply + than any accusation. With a heavy sense of bitterness and renunciation he + moved slowly forward. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, very gently, “you don't know what you say.” + </p> + <p> + She had lowered her eyes as he came towards her; now again she lifted them + in a swift, upward glance. For the first time since he had entered the + room a slight look of personal doubt and uneasiness showed in her face. + “Why?” she said. “I—I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment he answered nothing. He had found his first explanation + overwhelming; now suddenly it seemed to him that his present difficulty + was more impossible to surmount. “I came here to-night to tell you + something,” he began, at last, “but so far I have only said half—” + </p> + <p> + “Half?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, half.” He repeated the word quickly, avoiding the question in her + eyes. Then, conscious of the need for explanation, he plunged into rapid + speech. + </p> + <p> + “A fraud like mine,” he said, “has only one safeguard, one justification—a + boundless audacity. Once shake that audacity and the whole motive power + crumbles. It was to make the audacity impossible—to tell you the + truth and make it impossible—that I came to-night. The fact that you + already knew made the telling easier—but it altered nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Eve raised her head, but he went resolutely on. + </p> + <p> + “To-night,” he said, “I have seen into my own life, into my own mind, and + my ideas have been very roughly shaken into new places. + </p> + <p> + “We never make so colossal a mistake as when we imagine that we know + ourselves. Months ago, when your husband first proposed this scheme to me, + I was, according to my own conception, a solitary being vastly ill-used by + Fate, who, with a fine stoicism, was leading a clean life. That was what I + believed; but there, at the very outset, I deceived myself. I was simply a + man who shut himself up because he cherished a grudge against life, and + who lived honestly because he had a constitutional distaste for vice. My + first feeling when I saw your husband was one of self-righteous contempt, + and that has been my attitude all along. I have often marvelled at the + flood of intolerance that has rushed over me at sight of him—the + violent desire that has possessed me to look away from his weakness and + banish the knowledge of it; but now I understand. + </p> + <p> + “I know now what the feeling meant. The knowledge came to me to-night. It + meant that I turned away from his weakness because deep within myself + something stirred in recognition of it. Humanity is really much simpler + than we like to think, and human impulses have an extraordinary + fundamental connection. Weakness is egotism—but so is strength. + Chilcote has followed his vice; I have followed my ambition. It will take + a higher judgment than yours or mine to say which of us has been the more + selfish man.” He paused and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + She was watching him intently. Some of the meaning in his face had found a + pained, alarmed reflection in her own. But the awe and wonder of the + morning's discovery still colored her mind too vividly to allow of other + considerations possessing their proper value. The thrill of exultation + with which the misgivings born of Chilcote's vice had dropped away from + her mental image of Loder was still too absorbing to be easily dominated. + She loved, and as if by a miracle her love had been justified! For the + moment the justification was all-sufficing. Something of confidence—something + of the innocence that comes not from ignorance of evil but from a mind + singularly uncontaminated—blinded her to the danger of her position. + </p> + <p> + Loder, waiting apprehensively for some aid, some expression of opinion, + became gradually conscious of this lack of realization. Moved by a fresh + impulse, he crossed the small space that divided them and caught her + hands. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, gently, “I have been trying to analyze myself and give you + the results; but I sha'n't try any more; I shall be quite plain with you. + </p> + <p> + “From the first moment I took your husband's place I was ambitious. You + unconsciously aroused the feeling when you brought me Fraide's message on + the first night. You aroused it by your words—but more strongly, + though more obscurely, by your underlying antagonism. On that night, + though I did not know it, I took up my position—I made my + determination. Do you know what that determination was?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “It was the desire to stamp out Chilcote's footmarks with my own—to + prove that personality is the great force capable of everything. I forgot + to reckon that when we draw largely upon Fate she generally extorts a + crushing interest. + </p> + <p> + “First came the wish for your respect; then the desire to stand well with + such men as Fraide—to feel the stir of emulation and competition—to + prove myself strong in the one career I knew myself really fitted for. For + a time the second ambition overshadowed the first, but the first was bound + to reassert itself; and in a moment of egotism I conceived the notion of + winning your enthusiasm as well as your respect—” + </p> + <p> + Eve's face, alert and questioning, suddenly paled as a doubt crossed her + mind. + </p> + <p> + “Then it was only—only to stand well with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I believed it was only the desire to stand well with you; I believed it + until the night of my speech—if you can credit anything so absurd—then + on that night, as I came up the stairs to the gallery and saw you standing + there, the blindness fell away and I knew that I loved you.” As he said + the last words he released her hands and turned aside, missing the quick + wave of joy and color that crossed her face. + </p> + <p> + “I knew it, but it made no difference; I was only moved to a higher + self-glorification. I touched supremacy that night. But as we drove home I + experienced the strangest coincidence of my life. You remember the block + in the traffic at Piccadilly?” + </p> + <p> + Again Eve bent her head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when I looked out of the carriage window to discover its cause the + first man I saw was—Chilcote.” + </p> + <p> + Eve started slightly. This swift, unexpected linking of Chilcote's name + with the most exalted moment of her life stirred her unpleasantly. Some + glimmering of Loder's intention in so linking it, broke through the web of + disturbed and conflicting thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “You saw him on that night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and the sight chilled me. It was a big drop from supremacy to the + remembrance of—everything.” + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily she put out her hand. + </p> + <p> + But Loder shook his head. “No,” he said, “don't pity me! The sight of him + came just in time. I had a reaction in that moment, and, such as it was, I + acted on it. I went to him next morning and told him that the thing must + end. But then—even then—I shirked being honest with myself. I + had meant to tell him that it must end because I had grown to love you, + but my pride rose up and tied my tongue. I could not humiliate myself. I + put the case before him in another light. It was a tussle of wills—and + I won; but the victory was not what it should have been. That was proved + to-day when he returned to tell me of the loss of this telegram. It wasn't + the fear that Lady Astrupp had found it; it wasn't to save the position + that I jumped at the chance of coming back; it was to feel the joy of + living, the joy of seeing you—if only for a day!” For one second he + turned towards her, then as abruptly he turned away again. + </p> + <p> + “I was still thinking of myself,” he said. “I was still utterly + self-centred when I came to this room today and allowed you to talk to me—when + I asked you to see me to-night as we parted at the club. I sha'n't tell + you the thoughts that unconsciously were in my mind when I asked that + favor. You must understand without explanation. + </p> + <p> + “I went to the theatre with Lady Astrupp ostensibly to find out how the + land lay in her direction—really to heighten my self-esteem. But + there Fate—or the power we like to call by that name—was lying + in wait for me, ready to claim the first interest in the portion of life I + had dared to borrow.” He said this slowly, as if measuring each word. He + did not glance towards Eve as he had done in his previous pause. His whole + manner seemed oppressed by the gravity of what he had still to say. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if a man has ever seen more in half an hour than I have + to-night,” he said. “I'm speaking of mental seeing, of course. In this + play, 'Other Men's Shoes,' two men change identities—as Chilcote and + I have done—but in doing so they overlook one fact—The fact + that one of them has a wife! That's not my way of putting it; it's the way + it was put to me by one of Lady Astrupp's party.” + </p> + <p> + Again Eve looked up. The doubt and question in her eyes had grown + unmistakably. As he ceased to speak her lips parted quickly. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, with sudden conviction, “you're trying to say something—something + that's terribly hard.” + </p> + <p> + Without raising his head, Loder answered her. “Yes,” he answered, “the + hardest thing a man ever said—” + </p> + <p> + His tone was short, almost brusque, but to ears sharpened by instinct it + was eloquent. Without a word Eve took a step forward, and, standing quite + close to him, laid both hands on his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + For a space they stood silent, she with her face lifted, he with averted + eyes. Then very gently he raised his hands and tried to unclasp her + fingers. There was scarcely any color visible in his face, and by a + curious effect of emotion it seemed that lines, never before noticeable, + had formed about his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” Eve asked, apprehensively. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + By a swift, involuntary movement she had tightened the pressure of her + fingers; and, without using force, it was impossible for Loder to unloose + them. With his hands pressed irresolutely over hers, he looked down into + her face. + </p> + <p> + “As I sat in the theatre to-night, Eve,” he said, slowly, “all the + pictures I had formed of life shifted. Without desiring it, without + knowing it, my whole point of view was changed. I suddenly saw things by + the world's search-light instead of by my own miserable candle. I suddenly + saw things for you—instead of for myself.” + </p> + <p> + Eve's eyes widened and darkened, but she said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I suddenly saw the unpardonable wrong that I have done you—the + imperative duty of cutting it short.” He spoke very slowly, in a dull, + mechanical voice. + </p> + <p> + Eve—her eyes still wide, her face pained and alarmed—withdrew + her hands from his shoulders. “You mean,” she said, with difficulty, “that + it is going to end? That you are going away? That you are giving + everything up? Oh, but you can't! You can't!” she exclaimed, with sudden + excitement, her fears suddenly overmastering her incredulity. “You can't! + You mustn't! The only proof that could have interfered—” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't thinking of the proof.” + </p> + <p> + “Then of what? Of what?” + </p> + <p> + Loder was silent for a moment. “Of our love,” he said, steadily. + </p> + <p> + She colored deeply. “But why?” she stammered; “why? We have done no wrong. + We need do no wrong. We would be friends—nothing more; and I—oh, + I so need a friend!” + </p> + <p> + For almost the first time in Loder's knowledge of her, her voice broke, + her control deserted her. She stood before him in all the pathos of her + lonely girlhood—her empty life. + </p> + <p> + The revelation touched him with sudden poignancy; the real strength that + lay beneath his faults, the chivalry buried under years of callousness, + stirred at the birth of a new emotion. The resolution preserved at such a + cost, the sacrifice that had seemed wellnigh impossible, all at once took + on a different shape. What before had been a barren duty became suddenly a + sacred right. Holding out his arms, he drew her to him as if she had been + a child. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, gently, “I have learned to-night how fully a woman's life + is at the mercy of the world—and how scanty that mercy is. If + circumstances had been different, I believe—I am convinced—I + would have made you a good husband—would have used my right to + protect you as well as a man could use it. And now that things are + different, I want—I should like—” He hesitated a very little. + “Now that I have no right to protect you—except the right my love + gives—I want to guard you as closely from all that is sordid as any + husband could guard his wife. + </p> + <p> + “In life there are really only two broad issues—right and wrong. + Whatever we may say, whatever we may profess to believe, we know that our + action is always a choice between right and wrong. A month ago—a + week ago—I would have despised a man who could talk like this—and + have thought myself strong for despising him. Now I know that strength is + something more than the trampling of others into the dust that we + ourselves may have a clear road; that it is something much harder and much + less triumphant than that—that it is standing aside to let somebody + else pass on. Eve,” he exclaimed, suddenly, “I'm trying to do this for + you. Don't you see? Don't you understand? The easy course, the happy + course, would be to let things drift. Every instinct is calling to me to + take that course—to go on as I have gone, trading on Chilcote's + weakness and your generosity. But I won't do it! I can't do it!” With a + swift impulse he loosed his arms and held her away from him. “Eve, it's + the first time I have put another human being before myself!” + </p> + <p> + Eve kept her head bent. Painful, inaudible sobs were shaking her from head + to foot. + </p> + <p> + “It's something in you—something unconscious—something high + and fine, that holds me back—that literally bars the way. Eve, can't + you see that I'm fighting—fighting hard?” + </p> + <p> + After he had spoken there was silence—a long, painful silence—during + which Eve waged the battle that so many of her sex have waged before; the + battle in which words are useless and tears of no account. She looked very + slight, very young, very forlorn, as she stood there. Then, in the + oppressive sense of waiting that filled the whole room, she looked up at + him. + </p> + <p> + Her face was stained with tears, her thick, black lashes were still wet + with them; but her expression, as her eyes met Loder's, was a strange + example of the courage, the firmness, the power of sacrifice that may be + hidden in a fragile vessel. + </p> + <p> + She said nothing, for in such a moment words do not come easily, but with + the simplest, most submissive, most eloquent gesture in the world she set + his perplexity to rest. + </p> + <p> + Taking his hand between hers, she lifted it and for a long, silent space + held it against her lips. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + For a while there was silence; then Loder, bitterly aware that he had + conquered, poignantly conscious of the appeal that Eve's attitude made, + found further endurance impossible. Gently freeing his hand, he moved away + from her to the fireplace, taking up the position that she had first + occupied. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, slowly, “I haven't finished yet. I haven't said + everything. I'm going to tax your courage further.” + </p> + <p> + With a touch of pained alarm, Eve lifted her head. “Further?” she said. + </p> + <p> + Loder shrank from the expression on her face. “Yes,” he said, with + difficulty. “There's still another point to be faced. The matter doesn't + end with my going back. To have the situation fully saved, Chilcote must + return—Chilcote must be brought to realize his responsibilities.” + </p> + <p> + Eve's lips parted in dumb dismay. + </p> + <p> + “It must be done,” he went on hurriedly, “and we have got to do it—you + and I.” He turned and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “I? I could do nothing. What could I do?” Her voice failed. + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” he said, “you could do everything. He is morally weak, but + he has one sensitive point—the fear of a public exposure. Once make + it plain to him that you know his secret, and you can compel him to + whatever course of action you select. It was to ask you to do this—to + beg you to do this—that I came to you to-night. I know that it's + demanding more than a woman's resolution—more than a woman's + strength. But you are like no woman in the world! + </p> + <p> + “Eve!” he cried, with sudden vehemence, “can't you see that it's + imperative—the one thing to save us both?” + </p> + <p> + He stopped abruptly as he had begun, and again a painful silence filled + the room. Then, as before, Eve moved instinctively towards him, but this + time her steps were slow and uncertain. Nearing his side, she put out her + hand as if for comfort and support; and, feeling his fingers tighten round + it, stood for a moment resting in the contact. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” she said at last, very slowly. “I understand. When will + you take me to him?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Loder said nothing, not daring to trust his voice; then he + answered, low and abruptly. “Now!” he said. “Now, at once! Now, this + moment, if I may. And—and remember that I know what it costs you.” + As if imbued with fear that his courage might fail him, he suddenly + released her hand, and, crossing the room to where a long, dark cloak lay + as she had thrown it on her return home, he picked it up, walked to her + side, and silently wrapped it about her. Then, still acting automatically, + he moved to the door, opened it, and stood aside while she passed out into + the corridor. + </p> + <p> + In complete silence they descended the stairs and passed to the hall door. + There Crapham, who had returned to his duties since Loder's entrance, came + quickly forward with an offer of service. + </p> + <p> + But Loder dismissed him curtly; and with something of the confusion bred + of Chilcote's regime, the man drew back towards the staircase. + </p> + <p> + With a hasty movement Loder stepped forward, and, opening the door, + admitted a breath of chill air. Then on the threshold he paused. It was + his first sign of hesitation—the one instant in which nature + rebelled against the conscience so tardily awakened. He stood motionless + for a moment, and it is doubtful whether even Eve fully fathomed the + bitterness of his renunciation—the blackness of the night that + stretched before his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Behind him was everything; before him, nothing. The everything symbolized + by the luxurious house, the eagerly attentive servants, the pleasant + atmosphere of responsibility; the nothing represented by the broad public + thoroughfare, the passing figures, each unconscious of and uninterested in + his existence. As an interloper he had entered this house; as an + interloper—a masquerader—he had played his part, lived his + hour, proved himself; as an interloper he was now passing back into the + dim world of unrealized hopes and unachieved ambitions. + </p> + <p> + He stood rigidly quiet, his strong figure silhouetted against the lighted + hall, his face cold and set; then, with a touch of fatality, Chance cut + short his struggle. + </p> + <p> + An empty hansom wheeled round the corner of the square; the cabman, seeing + him, raised his whip in query, and involuntarily he nodded an + acquiescence. A moment later he had helped Eve into the cab. + </p> + <p> + “Middle Temple Lane!” he directed, pausing on the step. + </p> + <p> + “Middle Temple Lane is opposite to Clifford's Inn,” he explained as he + took his place beside her. “When we get out there we have only to cross + Fleet Street.” + </p> + <p> + Eve bent her head in token that she understood, and the cab moved out into + the roadway. + </p> + <p> + Within a few minutes the neighborhood of Grosvenor Square was exchanged + for the noisier and more crowded one of Piccadilly, but either the cabman + was overcautious or the horse was below the average, for they made but + slow progress through the more crowded streets. To the two sitting in + silence the pace was wellnigh unbearable. With every added movement the + tension grew. The methodical care with which they moved seemed like the + tightening of a string already strained to breaking-point, yet neither + spoke—because neither had the courage necessary for words. + </p> + <p> + Once or twice as they traversed the Strand, Loder made a movement as if to + break the silence, but nothing followed it. He continued to lean forward + with a certain dogged stiffness, his clasped hands resting on the doors of + the cab, his eyes staring straight ahead. Not once, as they threaded their + way, did he dare to glance at Eve, though every movement, every stir of + her garments, was forced upon his consciousness by his acutely awakened + senses. + </p> + <p> + When at last they drew up before the dark archway of Middle Temple Lane, + he descended hastily. And as he mechanically turned to protect Eve's dress + from the wheel, he looked at her fully for the first time since their + enterprise had been undertaken. As he looked he felt his heart sink. He + had expected to see the marks of suffering on her face, but the expression + he saw suggested something more than mere mental pain. + </p> + <p> + All the rich color that usually deepened and softened the charm of her + beauty had been erased as if by a long illness; and against the new pallor + of her skin her blue eyes, her black hair and eyebrows, seemed startlingly + dark. A chill colder than remorse, a chill that bordered upon actual fear, + touched Loder in that moment. With the first impulsive gesture he had + allowed himself, he touched her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Eve—” he began, unsteadily; then the word died off his lips. + </p> + <p> + Without a sound, almost without a movement, she returned his glance, and + something in her eyes checked what he might have said. In that one + expressive look he understood all she had desired, all she had renounced—the + full extent of the ordeal she had consented to, and the motive that had + compelled her consent. He drew back with the heavy sense that repentance + and pity were equally futile—equally out of place. + </p> + <p> + Still in silence she stepped to the pavement and stood aside while Loder + dismissed the cab. To both there was something symbolic, something + prophetic, in the dismissal. Without intention and almost unconsciously + they drew closer together as the horse turned, its hoofs clattering on the + roadway, its harness jingling; and, still without realization, they looked + after the vehicle as it moved away down the long, shadowed thoroughfare + towards the lights and the crowds that they had left. At last + involuntarily they turned towards each other. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” Loder said, abruptly. “It's only across the road.” + </p> + <p> + Fleet Street is generally very quiet, once midnight is passed; and Eve had + no need of guidance or protection as they crossed the pavement, shining + like ice in the lamplight. They crossed it slowly, walking apart; for the + dread of physical contact that had possessed them in the cab seemed to + have fallen on them again. + </p> + <p> + Inquisitiveness has little place in the region of the city, and they + gained the opposite footpath unnoticed by the casual passer-by. Then, + still holding apart, they reached and entered Clifford's Inn. + </p> + <p> + Inside the entrance they paused, and Eve shivered involuntarily. “How gray + it is!” she said, faintly. “And how cold! Like a graveyard.” + </p> + <p> + Loder turned to her. Far one moment control seemed shaken; his blood + surged, his vision clouded; the sense that life and love were still within + his reach filled him overwhelmingly. He turned towards Eve; he half + extended his hands. Then, stirred by what impulse, moved by what instinct, + it was impossible to say, he let them drop to his sides again. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” he said. “Come! This is the way. Keep close to me. Put your hand + on my arm.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke quietly, but his eyes were resolutely averted from her face as + they crossed the dim, silent court. + </p> + <p> + Entering the gloomy door-way that led to his own rooms, he felt her + fingers tremble on his arm, then tighten in their pressure as the bare + passage and cheerless stairs met her view; but he set his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” he repeated, in the same strained voice. “Come! It isn't far—three + or four flights.” + </p> + <p> + With a white face and a curious expression in her eyes, Eve moved forward. + She had released Loder's arm as they crossed the hall; and now, reaching + the stairs, she put out her hand gropingly and caught the banister. She + had a pained, numb sense of submission—of suffering that had sunk to + apathy. Moving forward without resistance, she began to mount the stairs. + </p> + <p> + The ascent was made in silence. Loder went first, his shoulders braced, + his head held erect; Eve, mechanically watchful of all his movements, + followed a step or two behind. With weary monotony one flight of stairs + succeeded another; each, to her unaccustomed eyes, seeming more colorless, + more solitary, more desolate than the preceding one. + </p> + <p> + Then at last, with a sinking sense of apprehension, she realized that + their goal was reached. + </p> + <p> + The knowledge broke sharply through her dulled senses; and, confronted by + the closeness of her ordeal, she paused, her head lifted, her hand still + nervously grasping the banister. Her lips parted as if in sudden demand + for aid; but in the nervous expectation, the pained apprehension, of the + moment no sound escaped them. Loder, resolutely crossing the landing, knew + nothing of the silent appeal. + </p> + <p> + For a second she stood hesitating; then her own weakness, her own + shrinking dismay, were submerged in the interest of his movements. Slowly + mounting the remaining steps, she followed him as if fascinated towards + the door that showed dingily conspicuous in the light of an unshaded + gas-jet. + </p> + <p> + Almost at the moment that she reached his side he extended his hand + towards the door. The action was decisive and hurried, as though he feared + to trust himself. + </p> + <p> + For a space he fumbled with the lock. And Eve, standing close behind him, + heard the handle creak and turn under his pressure. Then he shook the + door. + </p> + <p> + At last, slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned round. “I'm afraid things + aren't quite quite right,” he said, in a low voice. “The door is locked + and I can see no light.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes quickly. “But you have a key?” she whispered. “Haven't + you got a key?” It was obvious that, to both, the unexpected check to + their designs was fraught with danger. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but—” He looked towards the door. “Yes—I have a key. + Yes, you're right!” he added, quickly. “I'll use it. Wait, while I go + inside.” + </p> + <p> + Filled with a new nervousness, oppressed by the loneliness, the silence + about her, Eve drew back obediently. The sense of mystery conveyed by the + closed door weighed upon her. Her susceptibilities were tensely alert as + she watched Loder search for his key and insert it in the lock. With + mingled dread and curiosity she saw the door yield, and gape open like a + black gash in the dingy wall; and with a sudden sense of desertion she saw + him pass through the aperture and heard him strike a match. + </p> + <p> + The wait that followed seemed extraordinarily long. Listening intently, + she heard him move softly from one room to the other. And at last, to her + acutely nervous susceptibilities, it seemed that he paused in absolute + silence. In the intensity of listening, she heard her own faint, irregular + breathing, and the sound filled her with panic. The quiet, the solitude, + the vague, instinctive apprehension, became suddenly unendurable. Then all + at once the tension was relieved.. Loder reappeared. + </p> + <p> + He paused for a second in the shadowy door-way; then he turned unsteadily, + drew the door to, and locked; it. + </p> + <p> + Eve stepped forward. Her glimpse of him had been momentary—and she + had not heard his voice—yet the consciousness of his bearing filled + her with instinctive alarm. Abruptly, and without reason, their hands + turned cold, her heart began to beat violently. “John—” she said + below her breath. + </p> + <p> + For answer, he moved towards her. His face was bereft of color; there was + a look of consternation in his eyes. “Come!” he said. “Come at once! I + must take you home.” He spoke in a shaken, uneven voice. + </p> + <p> + Eve, looking up at him, caught his hand. “Why? Why?” she questioned. Her + tone was low and scared. + </p> + <p> + Without replying, he drew her imperatively towards the stairs. “Go very + softly,” he commanded. “No one must see you here.” + </p> + <p> + In the first moment she obeyed him instinctively; then, reaching the head + of the stairs, she stopped. With one hand still clasping his, the other + clinging nervously to the banister, she refused to descend. “John,” she + whispered, “I'm not a child. What is it? What has happened? I must know.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Loder looked at her uncertainly; then, reading the expression + in her eyes, he yielded to her demand. + </p> + <p> + “He's dead,” he said, in a very low voice. “Chilcote is dead.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + To fully appreciate a great announcement we must have time at our + disposal. At the moment of Loder's disclosure time was denied to Eve; for + scarcely had the words left his lips before the thought that dominated him + asserted its prior claim. Blind to the incredulity in her eyes, he drew + her swiftly forward, and—half impelling, half supporting her—forced + her to descend the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Never in after-life could he obliterate the remembrance of that descent. + Fear, such as he could never experience in his own concerns, possessed + him. One desire overrode all others—the desire that Eve's + reputation, which he himself had so nearly imperilled, should remain + unimperilled. In the shadow of that urgent duty, the despair of the past + hours, the appalling fact so lately realized, the future with its possible + trials, became dark to his imagination. In his new victory over self, the + question of her protection predominated. + </p> + <p> + Moving under this compulsion, he guided her hastily and silently down the + deserted stairs, drawing a breath of deep relief as, one after another, + the landings were successively passed; and still actuated by the + suppressed need of haste, he passed through the door-way that they had + entered under such different conditions only a few minutes before. + </p> + <p> + To leave the quiet court, to gain the Strand, to hail a belated hansom was + the work of a moment. By an odd contrivance of circumstance, the luck that + had attended every phase of his dual life was again exerted in his behalf. + No one had noticed their entry into Clifford's Inn; no one was moved to + curiosity by their exit. With an involuntary thrill of feeling he gave + expression to his relief. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, it's over!” he said, as a cab drew up. “You don't know what + the strain has been.” + </p> + <p> + Moving as if in a dream, Eve stepped into the cab. As yet the terrible + denouement to their enterprise had made no clear impression upon her mind. + For the moment all that she was conscious of, all that she instinctively + acknowledged, was the fact that Loder was still beside her. + </p> + <p> + In quiet obedience she took her place, drawing aside her skirts to make + room for him; and in the same subdued manner, he stepped into the vehicle. + Then, with the strange sensation of reliving their earlier drive, they + were aware of the tightened rein and of the horse's first forward + movement. + </p> + <p> + For several seconds neither spoke. Eve, shutting out all other thoughts, + sat close to Loder, clinging tenaciously to the momentary comforting sense + of protection; Loder, striving to marshal his ideas, hesitated before the + ordeal of speech. At last, realizing his responsibility, he turned to her + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, in a low voice and with some hesitation, “I want you to + know that in all this—from the moment I saw him—from the + moment I understood—I have had you in my thoughts—you and no + one else.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes to his face. + </p> + <p> + “Do you realize—?” he began afresh. “Do you know what this—this + thing means?” + </p> + <p> + Still she remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “It means that after to-night there will be no such person in London as + John Loder. To-morrow the man who was known by that name will be found in + his rooms; his body will be removed, and at the post-modern examination it + will be stated that he died of an overdose of morphia. His charwoman will + identify him as a solitary man who lived respectably for years and then + suddenly went down-hill with remarkable speed. It will be quite a common + case. Nothing of interest will be found in his rooms; no relation will + claim his body; after the usual time he will be given the usual burial of + his class. These details are horrible; but there are times when we must + look at the horrible side of life—because life is incomplete without + it. + </p> + <p> + “These things I speak of are the things that will meet the casual eye; but + in our sight they will have a very different meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Eve,” he said, more vehemently, “a whole chapter in my life has been + closed to-night, and my first instinct is to shut the book and throw it + away. But I'm thinking of you. Remember, I'm thinking of you! Whatever the + trial, whatever the difficulty, no harm shall come to you. You have my + word for that! + </p> + <p> + “I'll return with you now to Grosvenor Square; I'll remain there till a + reasonable excuse can be given for Chilcote's going abroad; I will avoid + Fraide, I will cut politics—whatever the cost; then, at the first + reasonable moment, I will do what I would do now, to-night if it were + possible. I'll go away, start afresh; do in another country what I have + done in this.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence; then Eve turned to him. The apathy of a moment + before had left her face. “In another country?” she repeated. “In another + country?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; a fresh career in a fresh country. Something clean to offer you. I'm + not too old to do what other men have done.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and for a moment Eve looked ahead at the gleaming chain of + lamps; then, still very slowly, she brought her glance back again. “No,” + she said very slowly. “You are not too old. But there are times when age—and + things like age—are not the real consideration. It seems to me that + your own inclination, your own individual sense of right and wrong, has + nothing to do with the present moment. The question is whether you are + justified in going away”—she paused, her eyes fixed steadily upon + his—“whether you are free to go away, and make a new life—whether + it is ever justifiable to follow a phantom light when—when there's a + lantern waiting to be carried.” Her breath caught; she drew away from him, + frightened and elated by her own words. + </p> + <p> + Loder turned to her sharply. “Eve!” he exclaimed; then his tone changed. + “You don't know what you're saying,” he added, quickly; “you don't + understand what you're saying.” + </p> + <p> + Eve leaned forward again. “Yes,” she said, slowly, “I do understand.” Her + voice was controlled, her manner convinced. She was no longer the girl + conquered by strength greater than her own: she was the woman strenuously + demanding her right to individual happiness. + </p> + <p> + “I understand it all,” she repeated. “I understand every point. It was not + Chance that made you change your identity, that made you care for me, that + brought about—his death. I don't believe it was Chance; I believe it + was something much higher. You are not meant to go away!” + </p> + <p> + As Loder watched her the remembrance of his first days as Chilcote rose + again; the remembrance of how he had been dimly filled with the belief + that below her self-possession lay a strength—a depth—uncommon + in woman. As he studied her now, the instinctive belief flamed into + conviction. “Eve!” he said involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + With a quick gesture she raised her head. “No!” she exclaimed. “No; don't + say anything! You are going to see things as I see them—you must do + so—you have no choice. No real man ever casts away the substance for + the shadow!” Her eyes shone—the color, the glow, the vitality, + rushed back into her face. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, softly, “I love you—and I need you—but there + is something with a greater claim—a greater need than mine. Don't + you know what it is?” + </p> + <p> + He said nothing; he made no gesture. + </p> + <p> + “It is the party—the country. You may put love aside, but duty is + different. You have pledged yourself. You are not meant to draw back.” + </p> + <p> + Loder's lips parted. + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” she said again. “Don't say anything! I know all that is in your + mind. But, when we sift things right through, it isn't my love—or + our happiness—that's really in the balance. It is your future!” + </p> + <p> + Her voice thrilled. “You are going to be a great man, and a great man is + the property of his country. He has no right to individual action.” + </p> + <p> + Again Loder made an effort to speak, but again she checked him. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” she exclaimed. “Wait! You believe you have acted wrongly, and you + are desperately afraid of acting wrongly again. But is it really truer, + more loyal for us to work out a long probation in grooves that are already + overfilled than to marry quietly abroad and fill the places that have need + of us? That is the question I want you to answer. Is it really truer and + nobler? Oh, I see the doubt that is in your mind! You think it finer to go + away and make a new life than to live the life that is waiting you—because + one is independent and the other means the use of another man's name and + another man's money—that is the thought in your mind. But what is it + that prompts that thought?” Again her voice caught, but her eyes did not + falter. “I will tell you. It is not self-sacrifice—but pride!” She + said the word fearlessly. + </p> + <p> + A flush crossed Loder's face. “A man requires pride,” he said in a low + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, at the right time. But is this the right time? Is it ever right to + throw away the substance for the shadow? You say that I don't understand—don't + realize. I realize more to-night than I have realized in all my life. I + know that you have an opportunity that can never come again—and that + it's terribly possible to let it slip—” + </p> + <p> + She paused. Loder, his hands resting on the closed doors of the cab, sat + very silent, with averted eyes and bent head. + </p> + <p> + “Only to-night,” she went on, “you told me that everything was crying to + you to take the easy, pleasant way. Then it was strong to turn aside; but + now it is not strong. It is far nobler to fill an empty niche than to + carve one for yourself. John—” She suddenly leaned forward, laying + her hands over his. “Mr. Fraide told me to-night that in his new ministry + my—my husband was to be Under Secretary for Foreign Affairs!” + </p> + <p> + The words fell softly. So softly that to ears less comprehending than + Loder's their significance might have been lost—as his rigid + attitude and unresponsive manner might have conveyed lack of understanding + to any eyes less observant than Eve's. + </p> + <p> + For a long space there was no word spoken. At last, with a very gentle + pressure, her fingers tightened over his hands. + </p> + <p> + “John—” she began, gently. But the word died away. She drew back + into her seat, as the cab stopped before Chilcote's house. + </p> + <p> + Simultaneously as they descended, the hall door was opened and a flood of + warm light poured out reassuringly into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it was your cab, sir,” Crapham explained deferentially as they + passed into the hall. “Mr. Fraide has been waiting to see you this + half-hour. I showed him into the study.” He closed the door; softly and + retired. + </p> + <p> + Then, in the warm light, amid the gravely dignified surroundings that had + marked his first entry into this hazardous second existence, Eve turned to + Loder for the verdict upon which the future hung. + </p> + <p> + As she turned, his face was still hidden from her, and his attitude + betrayed nothing. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, slowly, “you know why he is here.' You know that he has + come to personally offer you this place; to personally receive your + refusal—or consent.” + </p> + <p> + She ceased to speak; there was a moment of suspense; then Loder turned. + His face was still pale and grave with the gravity of a man who has but + recently been close to death, but beneath the gravity was another look—the + old expression of strength and self-reliance, tempered, raised, and + dignified by a new humility. + </p> + <p> + Moving forward, he held out his hands. + </p> + <p> + “My consent or refusal,” he said, very quietly, “lies with—my wife.” + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Masquerader, by Katherine Cecil Thurston + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MASQUERADER *** + +***** This file should be named 5422-h.htm or 5422-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/2/5422/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and 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. 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