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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e1c86be --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69185 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69185) diff --git a/old/69185-0.txt b/old/69185-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 01cfb5f..0000000 --- a/old/69185-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6940 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tales of the Long Bow, by G. K. -Chesterton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Tales of the Long Bow - -Author: G. K. Chesterton - -Release Date: October 20, 2022 [eBook #69185] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was - produced from images made available by the HathiTrust - Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE LONG BOW *** - - - - - -TALES OF THE LONG BOW - - - - - TALES OF THE - LONG BOW - - BY - G. K. CHESTERTON - - AUTHOR OF - “THE INNOCENCE OF FATHER - BROWN,” “HERETICS,” ETC. - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY - 1925 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1925 - BY GILBERT K. CHESTERTON - - PRINTED IN U. S. A. - - THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS - BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I THE UNPRESENTABLE APPEARANCE OF COLONEL CRANE 3 - - II THE IMPROBABLE SUCCESS OF MR. OWEN HOOD 39 - - III THE UNOBTRUSIVE TRAFFIC OF CAPTAIN PIERCE 81 - - IV THE ELUSIVE COMPANION OF PARSON WHITE 113 - - V THE EXCLUSIVE LUXURY OF ENOCH OATES 147 - - VI THE UNTHINKABLE THEORY OF PROFESSOR GREEN 177 - - VII THE UNPRECEDENTED ARCHITECTURE OF COMMANDER BLAIR 211 - - VIII THE ULTIMATE ULTIMATUM OF THE LEAGUE OF THE LONG BOW 247 - - - - -I - -THE UNPRESENTABLE APPEARANCE OF COLONEL CRANE - - - - -TALES OF THE LONG BOW - - - - -I - -THE UNPRESENTABLE APPEARANCE OF COLONEL CRANE - - -These tales concern the doing of things recognized as impossible to -do; impossible to believe; and, as the weary reader may well cry -aloud, impossible to read about. Did the narrator merely say that -they happened, without saying how they happened, they could easily -be classified with the cow who jumped over the moon and the more -introspective individual who jumped down his own throat. In short, -they are all tall stories; and though tall stories may also be true -stories, there is something in the very phrase appropriate to such a -topsy-turvydom; for the logician will presumably class a tall story -with a corpulent epigram or a long-legged essay. It is only proper that -such impossible incidents should begin in the most prim and prosaic of -all places, at the most prim and prosaic of all times, and apparently -with the most prim and prosaic of all human beings. - -The place was a straight suburban road of strictly-fenced suburban -houses on the outskirts of a modern town. The time was about twenty -minutes to eleven on Sunday morning, when a procession of suburban -families in their Sunday clothes were passing decorously up the road -to church. And the man was a very respectable retired military man -named Colonel Crane, who was also going to church, as he had done -every Sunday at the same hour for a long stretch of years. There was -no obvious difference between him and his neighbours, except that he -was a little less obvious. His house was only called White Lodge and -was, therefore, less alluring to the romantic passer-by than Rowanmere -on the one side or Heatherbrae on the other. He turned out spick and -span for church as if for parade; but he was much too well dressed to -be pointed out as a well-dressed man. He was quite handsome in a dry, -sun-baked style; but his bleached blond hair was a colourless sort -that could look either light brown or pale grey; and though his blue -eyes were clear, they looked out a little heavily under lowered lids. -Colonel Crane was something of a survival. He was not really old; -indeed he was barely middle-aged; and had gained his last distinctions -in the great war. But a variety of causes had kept him true to the -traditional type of the old professional soldier, as it had existed -before 1914; when a small parish would have only one colonel as it -had only one curate. It would be quite unjust to call him a dug-out; -indeed, it would be much truer to call him a dug-in. For he had -remained in the traditions as firmly and patiently as he had remained -in the trenches. He was simply a man who happened to have no taste for -changing his habits, and had never worried about conventions enough to -alter them. One of his excellent habits was to go to church at eleven -o’clock, and he therefore went there; and did not know that there went -with him something of an old-world air and a passage in the history of -England. - -As he came out of his front door, however, on that particular morning, -he was twisting a scrap of paper in his fingers and frowning with -somewhat unusual perplexity. Instead of walking straight to his garden -gate he walked once or twice up and down his front garden, swinging his -black walking-cane. The note had been handed in to him at breakfast, -and it evidently involved some practical problem calling for immediate -solution. He stood a few minutes with his eye riveted on a red daisy at -the corner of the nearest flower-bed; and then a new expression began -to work in the muscles of his bronzed face, giving a slightly grim hint -of humour, of which few except his intimates were aware. Folding up -the paper and putting it into his waistcoat pocket, he strolled round -the house to the back garden, behind which was the kitchen-garden, in -which an old servant, a sort of factotum or handyman, named Archer, was -acting as kitchen-gardener. - -Archer also was a survival. Indeed, the two had survived together; had -survived a number of things that had killed a good many other people. -But though they had been together through the war that was also a -revolution, and had a complete confidence in each other, the man Archer -had never been able to lose the oppressive manners of a manservant. He -performed the duties of a gardener with the air of a butler. He really -performed the duties very well and enjoyed them very much; perhaps he -enjoyed them all the more because he was a clever Cockney, to whom the -country crafts were a new hobby. But somehow, whenever he said, “I have -put in the seeds, sir,” it always sounded like, “I have put the sherry -on the table, sir”; and he could not say, “Shall I pull the carrots?” -without seeming to say, “Would you be requiring the claret?” - -“I hope you’re not working on Sunday,” said the Colonel, with a much -more pleasant smile than most people got from him, though he was always -polite to everybody. “You’re getting too fond of these rural pursuits. -You’ve become a rustic yokel.” - -“I was venturing to examine the cabbages, sir,” replied the rustic -yokel, with a painful precision of articulation. “Their condition -yesterday evening did not strike me as satisfactory.” - -“Glad you didn’t sit up with them,” answered the Colonel. “But it’s -lucky you’re interested in cabbages. I want to talk to you about -cabbages.” - -“About cabbages, sir?” inquired the other respectfully. - -But the Colonel did not appear to pursue the topic, for he was gazing -in sudden abstraction at another object in the vegetable plots in -front of him. The Colonel’s garden, like the Colonel’s house, hat, -coat and demeanour, was well-appointed in an unobtrusive fashion; and -in the part of it devoted to flowers there dwelt something indefinable -that seemed older than the suburbs. The hedges, even, in being as -neat as Surbiton managed to look as mellow as Hampton Court, as if -their very artificiality belonged rather to Queen Anne than Queen -Victoria; and the stone-rimmed pond with a ring of irises somehow -looked like a classic pool and not merely an artificial puddle. It is -idle to analyse how a man’s soul and social type will somehow soak -into his surroundings; anyhow, the soul of Mr. Archer had sunk into -the kitchen-garden so as to give it a fine shade of difference. He -was after all a practical man, and the practice of his new trade was -much more of a real appetite with him than his words would suggest. -Hence the kitchen-garden was not artificial, but autochthonous; it -really looked like a corner of a farm in the country; and all sorts -of practical devices were set up there. Strawberries were netted-in -against the birds; strings were stretched across with feathers -fluttering from them; and in the middle of the principal bed stood -an ancient and authentic scarecrow. Perhaps the only incongruous -intruder, capable of disputing with the scarecrow his rural reign, was -the curious boundary-stone which marked the edge of his domain; and -which was, in fact, a shapeless South Sea idol, planted there with no -more appropriateness than a door-scraper. But Colonel Crane would not -have been so complete a type of the old army man if he had not hidden -somewhere a hobby connected with his travels. His hobby had at one time -been savage folklore; and he had the relic of it on the edge of the -kitchen-garden. At the moment, however, he was not looking at the idol, -but at the scarecrow. - -“By the way, Archer,” he said, “don’t you think the scarecrow wants a -new hat?” - -“I should hardly think it would be necessary, sir,” said the gardener -gravely. - -“But look here,” said the Colonel, “you must consider the philosophy -of scarecrows. In theory, that is supposed to convince some rather -simple-minded bird that I am walking in my garden. That thing with -the unmentionable hat is Me. A trifle sketchy, perhaps. Sort of -impressionist portrait; but hardly likely to impress. Man with a hat -like that would never be really firm with a sparrow. Conflict of wills, -and all that, and I bet the sparrow would come out on top. By the way, -what’s that stick tied on to it?” - -“I believe, sir,” said Archer, “that it is supposed to represent a gun.” - -“Held at a highly unconvincing angle,” observed Crane. “Man with a hat -like that would be sure to miss.” - -“Would you desire me to procure another hat?” inquired the patient -Archer. - -“No, no,” answered his master carelessly. “As the poor fellow’s got -such a rotten hat, I’ll give him mine. Like the scene of St. Martin and -the beggar.” - -“Give him yours,” repeated Archer respectfully, but faintly. - -The Colonel took off his burnished top-hat and gravely placed it on -the head of the South Sea idol at his feet. It had a queer effect of -bringing the grotesque lump of stone to life, as if a goblin in a -top-hat was grinning at the garden. - -“You think the hat shouldn’t be quite new?” he inquired almost -anxiously. “Not done among the best scarecrows, perhaps. Well, let’s -see what we can do to mellow it a little.” - -He whirled up his walking-stick over his head and laid a smacking -stroke across the silk hat, smashing it over the hollow eyes of the -idol. - -“Softened with the touch of time now, I think,” he remarked, holding -out the silken remnants to the gardener. “Put it on the scarecrow, my -friend; I don’t want it. You can bear witness it’s no use to me.” - -Archer obeyed like an automaton, an automaton with rather round eyes. - -“We must hurry up,” said the Colonel cheerfully, “I was early for -church, but I’m afraid I’m a bit late now.” - -“Did you propose to attend church without a hat, sir?” asked the other. - -“Certainly not. Most irreverent,” said the Colonel. “Nobody should -neglect to remove his hat on entering church. Well, if I haven’t got a -hat, I shall neglect to remove it. Where is your reasoning power this -morning? No, no, just dig up one of your cabbages.” - -Once more the well-trained servant managed to repeat the word -“Cabbages” with his own strict accent; but in its constriction there -was a hint of strangulation. - -“Yes, go and pull up a cabbage, there’s a good fellow,” said the -Colonel. “I must really be getting along; I believe I heard it strike -eleven.” - -Mr. Archer moved heavily in the direction of the plot of cabbages, -which swelled with monstrous contours and many colours; objects, -perhaps, more worthy of the philosophic eye than is taken into account -by the more flippant tongue. Vegetables are curious-looking things and -less commonplace than they sound. If we called a cabbage a cactus, or -some such queer name, we might see it as an equally queer thing. - -These philosophical truths did the Colonel reveal by anticipating the -dubious Archer, and dragging a great, green cabbage with its trailing -root out of the earth. He then picked up a sort of pruning-knife and -cut short the long tail of the root; scooped out the inside leaves so -as to make a sort of hollow, and gravely reversing it, placed it on -his head. Napoleon and other military princes have crowned themselves; -and he, like the Cæsars, wore a wreath that was, after all, made of -green leaves or vegetation. Doubtless there are other comparisons that -might occur to any philosophical historian who should look at it in the -abstract. - -The people going to church certainly looked at it; but they did not -look at it in the abstract. To them it appeared singularly concrete; -and indeed incredibly solid. The inhabitants of Rowanmere and -Heatherbrae followed the Colonel as he strode almost jauntily up the -road, with feelings that no philosophy could for the moment meet. -There seemed to be nothing to be said, except that one of the most -respectable and respected of their neighbours, one who might even -be called in a quiet way a pattern of good form if not a leader of -fashion, was walking solemnly up to church with a cabbage on the top of -his head. - -There was indeed no corporate action to meet the crisis. Their -world was not one in which a crowd can collect to shout, and still -less to jeer. No rotten eggs could be collected from their tidy -breakfast-tables; and they were not of the sort to throw cabbage-stalks -at the cabbage. Perhaps there was just that amount of truth in the -pathetically picturesque names on their front gates, names suggestive -of mountains and mighty lakes concealed somewhere on the premises. It -was true that in one sense such a house was a hermitage. Each of these -men lived alone and they could not be made into a mob. For miles around -there was no public house and no public opinion. - -As the Colonel approached the church porch and prepared reverently -to remove his vegetarian headgear, he was hailed in a tone a little -more hearty than the humane civility that was the slender bond of that -society. He returned the greeting without embarrassment, and paused a -moment as the man who had spoken to him plunged into further speech. He -was a young doctor named Horace Hunter, tall, handsomely dressed, and -confident in manner; and though his features were rather plain and his -hair rather red, he was considered to have a certain fascination. - -“Good morning, Colonel,” said the doctor in his resounding tones, “what -a f---- what a fine day it is.” - -Stars turned from their courses like comets, so to speak, and the -world swerved into wilder possibilities, at that crucial moment when -Dr. Hunter corrected himself and said, “What a fine day!” instead of -“What a funny hat!” - -As to why he corrected himself, a true picture of what passed through -his mind might sound rather fanciful in itself. It would be less than -explicit to say he did so because of a long grey car waiting outside -the White Lodge. It might not be a complete explanation to say it was -due to a lady walking on stilts at a garden party. Some obscurity might -remain, even if we said that it had something to do with a soft shirt -and a nickname; nevertheless all these things mingled in the medical -gentleman’s mind when he made his hurried decision. Above all, it might -or might not be sufficient explanation to say that Horace Hunter was a -very ambitious young man, that the ring in his voice and the confidence -in his manner came from a very simple resolution to rise in the world, -and that the world in question was rather worldly. - -He liked to be seen talking so confidently to Colonel Crane on that -Sunday parade. Crane was comparatively poor, but he knew People. And -people who knew People knew what People were doing now; whereas people -who didn’t know People could only wonder what in the world People -would do next. A lady who came with the Duchess when she opened the -Bazaar had nodded to Crane and said, “Hullo, Stork,” and the doctor -had deduced that it was a sort of family joke and not a momentary -ornithological confusion. And it was the Duchess who had started all -that racing on stilts, which the Vernon-Smiths had introduced at -Heatherbrae. But it would have been devilish awkward not to have known -what Mrs. Vernon-Smith meant when she said, “Of course you stilt.” You -never knew what they would start next. He remembered how he himself -had thought the first man in a soft shirtfront was some funny fellow -from nowhere; and then he had begun to see others here and there, and -had found that it was not a _faux pas_, but a fashion. It was odd to -imagine he would ever begin to see vegetable hats here and there, but -you never could tell; and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake -again. His first medical impulse had been to add to the Colonel’s fancy -costume with a strait-waistcoat. But Crane did not look like a lunatic, -and certainly did not look like a man playing a practical joke. He had -not the stiff and self-conscious solemnity of the joker. He took it -quite naturally. And one thing was certain: if it really was the latest -thing, the doctor must take it as naturally as the Colonel did. So he -said it was a fine day, and was gratified to learn that there was no -disagreement on that question. - -The doctor’s dilemma, if we may apply the phrase, had been the whole -neighbourhood’s dilemma. The doctor’s decision was also the whole -neighbourhood’s decision. It was not so much that most of the good -people there shared in Hunter’s serious social ambitions, but rather -that they were naturally prone to negative and cautious decisions. They -lived in a delicate dread of being interfered with; and they were just -enough to apply the principle by not interfering with other people. -They had also a subconscious sense that the mild and respectable -military gentleman would not be altogether an easy person to interfere -with. The consequence was that the Colonel carried his monstrous green -headgear about the streets of that suburb for nearly a week, and nobody -ever mentioned the subject to him. It was about the end of that time -(while the doctor had been scanning the horizon for aristocrats crowned -with cabbage, and, not seeing any, was summoning his natural impudence -to speak) that the final interruption came; and with the interruption -the explanation. - -The Colonel had every appearance of having forgotten all about the hat. -He took it off and on like any other hat; he hung it on the hat-peg -in his narrow front hall where there was nothing else but his sword -hung on two hooks and an old brown map of the seventeenth century. He -handed it to Archer when that correct character seemed to insist on his -official right to hold it; he did not insist on his official right to -brush it, for fear it should fall to pieces; but he occasionally gave -it a cautious shake, accompanied with a look of restrained distaste. -But the Colonel himself never had any appearance of either liking -or disliking it. The unconventional thing had already become one of -his conventions--the conventions which he never considered enough to -violate. It is probable, therefore, that what ultimately took place was -as much of a surprise to him as to anybody. Anyhow, the explanation, or -explosion, came in the following fashion. - -Mr. Vernon-Smith, the mountaineer whose foot was on his native heath -at Heatherbrae, was a small, dapper gentleman with a big-bridged nose, -dark moustache, and dark eyes with a settled expression of anxiety, -though nobody knew what there was to be anxious about in his very -solid social existence. He was a friend of Dr. Hunter; one might -almost say a humble friend. For he had the negative snobbishness that -could only admire the positive and progressive snobbishness of that -soaring and social figure. A man like Dr. Hunter likes to have a -man like Mr. Smith, before whom he can pose as a perfect man of the -world. What appears more extraordinary, a man like Mr. Smith really -likes to have a man like Dr. Hunter to pose at him and swagger over -him and snub him. Anyhow, Vernon-Smith had ventured to hint that the -new hat of his neighbour Crane was not of a pattern familiar in every -fashion-plate. And Dr. Hunter, bursting with the secret of his own -original diplomacy, had snubbed the suggestion and snowed it under -with frosty scorn. With shrewd, resolute gestures, with large allusive -phrases, he had left on his friend’s mind the impression that the whole -social world would dissolve if a word were said on so delicate a topic. -Mr. Vernon-Smith formed a general idea that the Colonel would explode -with a loud bang at the very vaguest allusion to vegetables, or the -most harmless adumbration or verbal shadow of a hat. As usually happens -in such cases, the words he was forbidden to say repeated themselves -perpetually in his mind with the rhythmic pressure of a pulse. It was -his temptation at the moment to call all houses hats and all visitors -vegetables. - -When Crane came out of his front gate that morning he found his -neighbour Vernon-Smith standing outside, between the spreading laburnum -and the lamp-post, talking to a young lady, a distant cousin of his -family. This girl was an art student on her own--a little too much on -her own for the standards of Heatherbrae, and, therefore (some would -infer), yet further beyond those of White Lodge. Her brown hair was -bobbed, and the Colonel did not admire bobbed hair. On the other hand, -she had a rather attractive face, with honest brown eyes a little too -wide apart, which diminished the impression of beauty but increased the -impression of honesty. She also had a very fresh and unaffected voice, -and the Colonel had often heard it calling out scores at tennis on the -other side of the garden wall. In some vague sort of way it made him -feel old; at least, he was not sure whether he felt older than he was, -or younger than he ought to be. It was not until they met under the -lamp-post that he knew her name was Audrey Smith; and he was faintly -thankful for the single monosyllable. Mr. Vernon-Smith presented her, -and very nearly said: “May I introduce my cabbage?” instead of “my -cousin.” - -The Colonel, with unaffected dullness, said it was a fine day; and his -neighbour, rallying from his last narrow escape, continued the talk -with animation. His manner, as when he poked his big nose and beady -black eyes into local meetings and committees, was at once hesitating -and emphatic. - -“This young lady is going in for Art,” he said; “a poor look-out, isn’t -it? I expect we shall see her drawing in chalk on the paving-stones and -expecting us to throw a penny into the--into a tray, or something.” -Here he dodged another danger. “But, of course, she thinks she is going -to be an R.A.” - -“I hope not,” said the young woman hotly. “Pavement artists are much -more honest than most of the R.A.’s.” - -“I wish those friends of yours didn’t give you such revolutionary -ideas,” said Mr. Vernon-Smith. “My cousin knows the most dreadful -cranks, vegetarians and--and Socialists.” He chanced it, feeling that -vegetarians were not quite the same as vegetables; and he felt sure -the Colonel would share his horror of Socialists. “People who want us -to be equal, and all that. What I say is--we’re not equal and we never -can be. As I always say to Audrey--if all the property were divided -to-morrow, it would go back into the same hands. It’s a law of nature, -and if a man thinks he can get round a law of nature, why, he’s talking -through his--I mean, he’s as mad as a----” - -Recoiling from the omnipresent image, he groped madly in his mind for -the alternative of a March hare. But before he could find it, the girl -had cut in and completed his sentence. She smiled serenely, and said in -her clear and ringing tones: - -“As mad as Colonel Crane’s hatter.” - -It is not unjust to Mr. Vernon-Smith to say that he fled as from a -dynamite explosion. It would be unjust to say that he deserted a lady -in distress, for she did not look in the least like a distressed lady, -and he himself was a very distressed gentleman. He attempted to wave -her indoors with some wild pretext, and eventually vanished there -himself with an equally random apology. But the other two took no -notice of him; they continued to confront each other, and both were -smiling. - -“I think you must be the bravest man in England,” she said. “I don’t -mean anything about the war, or the D.S.O. and all that; I mean about -this. Oh, yes, I do know a little about you, but there’s one thing I -don’t know. Why do you do it?” - -“I think it is you who are the bravest woman in England,” he answered, -“or, at any rate, the bravest person in these parts. I’ve walked about -this town for a week, feeling like the last fool in creation, and -expecting somebody to say something. And not a soul has said a word. -They seem all to be afraid of saying the wrong thing.” - -“I think they’re deadly,” observed Miss Smith. “And if they don’t have -cabbages for hats, it’s only because they have turnips for heads.” - -“No,” said the Colonel gently; “I have many generous and friendly -neighbours here, including your cousin. Believe me, there is a case for -conventions, and the world is wiser than you know. You are too young -not to be intolerant. But I can see you’ve got the fighting spirit; -that is the best part of youth and intolerance. When you said that word -just now, by Jove you looked like Britomart.” - -“She is the Militant Suffragette in the Faerie Queene, isn’t she?” -answered the girl. “I’m afraid I don’t know my English literature as -well as you do. You see, I’m an artist, or trying to be one; and some -people say that narrows a person. But I can’t help getting cross with -all the varnished vulgarity they talk about everything--look at what -he said about Socialism.” - -“It was a little superficial,” said Crane with a smile. - -“And that,” she concluded, “is why I admire your hat, though I don’t -know why you wear it.” - -This trivial conversation had a curious effect on the Colonel. There -went with it a sort of warmth and a sense of crisis that he had not -known since the war. A sudden purpose formed itself in his mind, and he -spoke like one stepping across a frontier. - -“Miss Smith,” he said, “I wonder if I might ask you to pay me a further -compliment. It may be unconventional, but I believe you do not stand on -these conventions. An old friend of mine will be calling on me shortly, -to wind up the rather unusual business or ceremonial of which you have -chanced to see a part. If you would do me the honour to lunch with me -to-morrow at half-past one, the true story of the cabbage awaits you. I -promise that you shall hear the real reason. I might even say I promise -you shall _see_ the real reason.” - -“Why, of course I will,” said the unconventional one heartily. “Thanks -awfully.” - -The Colonel took an intense interest in the appointments of the -luncheon next day. With subconscious surprise he found himself not only -interested, but excited. Like many of his type, he took pleasure in -doing such things well, and knew his way about in wine and cookery. But -that would not alone explain his pleasure. For he knew that young women -generally know very little about wine, and emancipated young women -possibly least of all. And though he meant the cookery to be good, he -knew that in one feature it would appear rather fantastic. Again, he -was a good-natured gentleman who would always have liked young people -to enjoy a luncheon party, as he would have liked a child to enjoy a -Christmas tree. But there seemed no reason why he should be restless -and expectant about it, as if he were the child himself. There was no -reason why he should have a sort of happy insomnia, like a child on -Christmas Eve. There was really no excuse for his pacing up and down -the garden with his cigar, smoking furiously far into the night. For as -he gazed at the purple irises and the grey pool in the faint moonshine, -something in his feelings passed as if from the one tint to the other; -he had a new and unexpected reaction. For the first time he really -hated the masquerade he had made himself endure. He wished he could -smash the cabbage as he had smashed the top-hat. He was little more -than forty years old; but he had never realized how much there was of -what was dried and faded about his flippancy, till he felt unexpectedly -swelling within him the monstrous and solemn vanity of a young man. -Sometimes he looked up at the picturesque, the too picturesque, outline -of the villa next door, dark against the moonrise, and thought he heard -faint voices in it, and something like a laugh. - -The visitor who called on the Colonel next morning may have been an old -friend, but he was certainly an odd contrast. He was a very abstracted, -rather untidy man in a rusty knickerbocker suit; he had a long head -with straight hair of the dark red called auburn, one or two wisps of -which stood on end however he brushed it, and a long face, clean-shaven -and heavy about the jaw and chin, which he had a way of sinking and -settling squarely into his cravat. His name was Hood, and he was -apparently a lawyer, though he had not come on strictly legal business. -Anyhow, he exchanged greetings with Crane with a quiet warmth and -gratification, smiled at the old manservant as if he were an old joke, -and showed every sign of an appetite for his luncheon. - -The appointed day was singularly warm and bright and everything in -the garden seemed to glitter; the goblin god of the South Seas seemed -really to grin; and the scarecrow really to have a new hat. The irises -round the pool were swinging and flapping in a light breeze; and he -remembered they were called “flags” and thought of purple banners going -into battle. - -She had come suddenly round the corner of the house. Her dress was -of a dark but vivid blue, very plain and angular in outline, but not -outrageously artistic; and in the morning light she looked less like -a schoolgirl and more like a serious woman of twenty-five or thirty; -a little older and a great deal more interesting. And something in -this morning seriousness increased the reaction of the night before. -One single wave of thanksgiving went up from Crane to think that at -least his grotesque green hat was gone and done with for ever. He had -worn it for a week without caring a curse for anybody; but during that -ten minutes’ trivial talk under the lamp-post, he felt as if he had -suddenly grown donkey’s ears in the street. - -He had been induced by the sunny weather to have a little table laid -for three in a sort of veranda open to the garden. When the three sat -down to it, he looked across at the lady and said: “I fear I must -exhibit myself as a crank; one of those cranks your cousin disapproves -of, Miss Smith. I hope it won’t spoil this little lunch for anybody -else. But I am going to have a vegetarian meal.” - -“Are you?” she said. “I should never have said you looked like a -vegetarian.” - -“Just lately I have only looked like a fool,” he said dispassionately; -“but I think I’d sooner look a fool than a vegetarian in the ordinary -way. This is rather a special occasion. Perhaps my friend Hood had -better begin; it’s really his story more than mine.” - -“My name is Robert Owen Hood,” said that gentleman, rather -sardonically. “That’s how improbable reminiscences often begin; but -the only point now is that my old friend here insulted me horribly by -calling me Robin Hood.” - -“I should have called it a compliment,” answered Audrey Smith. “But why -did he call you Robin Hood?” - -“Because I drew the long bow,” said the lawyer. - -“But to do you justice,” said the Colonel, “it seems that you hit the -bull’s-eye.” - -As he spoke Archer came in bearing a dish which he placed before his -master. He had already served the others with the earlier courses, but -he carried this one with the pomp of one bringing in the boar’s head at -Christmas. It consisted of a plain boiled cabbage. - -“I was challenged to do something,” went on Hood, “which my friend here -declared to be impossible. In fact, any sane man would have declared -it to be impossible. But I did it for all that. Only my friend, in -the heat of rejecting and ridiculing the notion, made use of a hasty -expression. I might almost say he made a rash vow.” - -“My exact words were,” said Colonel Crane solemnly: “‘If you can do -that, I’ll eat my hat.’” - -He leaned forward thoughtfully and began to eat it. Then he resumed in -the same reflective way: - -“You see, all rash vows are verbal or nothing. There might be a debate -about the logical and literal way in which my friend Hood fulfilled -_his_ rash vow. But I put it to myself in the same pedantic sort of -way. It wasn’t possible to eat any hat that I wore. But it might be -possible to wear a hat that I could eat. Articles of dress could hardly -be used for diet; but articles of diet could really be used for dress. -It seemed to me that I might fairly be said to have made it my hat, if -I wore it systematically as a hat and had no other, putting up with all -the disadvantages. Making a blasted fool of myself was the fair price -to be paid for the vow or wager; for one ought always to lose something -on a wager.” - -And he rose from the table with a gesture of apology. - -The girl stood up. “I think it’s perfectly splendid,” she said. “It’s -as wild as one of those stories about looking for the Holy Grail.” - -The lawyer also had risen, rather abruptly, and stood stroking his long -chin with his thumb and looking at his old friend under bent brows in a -rather reflective manner. - -“Well, you’ve subpœna’d me as a witness all right,” he said, “and now, -with the permission of the court, I’ll leave the witness-box. I’m -afraid I must be going. I’ve got important business at home. Good-bye, -Miss Smith.” - -The girl returned his farewell a little mechanically; and Crane seemed -to recover suddenly from a similar trance as he stepped after the -retreating figure of his friend. - -“I say, Owen,” he said hastily, “I’m sorry you’re leaving so early. -Must you really go?” - -“Yes,” replied Owen Hood gravely. “My private affairs are quite -real and practical, I assure you.” His grave mouth worked a little -humorously at the corners as he added: “The truth is, I don’t think I -mentioned it, but I’m thinking of getting married.” - -“Married!” repeated the Colonel, as if thunderstruck. - -“Thanks for your compliments and congratulations, old fellow,” said the -satiric Mr. Hood. “Yes, it’s all been thought out. I’ve even decided -whom I am going to marry. She knows about it herself. She has been -warned.” - -“I really beg your pardon,” said the Colonel in great distress, “of -course I congratulate you most heartily; and her even more heartily. Of -course I’m delighted to hear it. The truth is, I was surprised ... not -so much in that way....” - -“Not so much in what way?” asked Hood. “I suppose you mean some would -say I am on the way to be an old bachelor. But I’ve discovered it isn’t -half so much a matter of years as of ways. Men like me get elderly -more by choice than chance; and there’s much more choice and less -chance in life than your modern fatalists make out. For such people -fatalism falsifies even chronology. They’re not unmarried because -they’re old. They’re old because they’re unmarried.” - -“Indeed you are mistaken,” said Crane earnestly. “As I say, I was -surprised, but my surprise was not so rude as you think. It wasn’t that -I thought there was anything unfitting about ... somehow it was rather -the other way ... as if things could fit better than one thought ... -as if--but anyhow, little as I know about it, I really do congratulate -you.” - -“I’ll tell you all about it before long,” replied his friend. “It’s -enough to say just now that it was all bound up with my succeeding -after all in doing--what I did. She was the inspiration, you know. I -have done what is called an impossible thing; but believe me, she is -the really impossible part of it.” - -“Well, I must not keep you from such an impossible engagement,” said -Crane smiling. “Really, I’m confoundedly glad to hear about all this. -Well, good-bye for the present.” - -Colonel Crane stood watching the square shoulders and russet mane -of his old friend, as they disappeared down the road, in a rather -indescribable state of mind. As he turned hastily back towards his -garden and his other guest, he was conscious of a change; things -seemed different in some lightheaded and illogical fashion. He could -not himself trace the connexion; indeed, he did not know whether it was -a connexion or a disconnexion. He was very far from being a fool; but -his brains were of the sort that are directed outwards to things; the -brains of the soldier or the scientific man; and he had no practice -in analysing his own mind. He did not quite understand why the news -about Owen Hood should give him that dazed sense of a difference in -things in general. Doubtless he was very fond of Owen Hood; but he -had been fond of other people who had got married without especially -disturbing the atmosphere of his own back garden. He even dimly felt -that mere affection might have worked the other way; that it might have -made him worry about Hood, and wonder whether Hood was making a fool -of himself, or even feel suspicious or jealous of Mrs. Hood--if there -had not been something else that made him feel quite the other way. He -could not quite understand it; there seemed to be an increasing number -of things that he could not understand. This world in which he himself -wore garlands of green cabbage and in which his old friend the lawyer -got married suddenly like a man going mad--this world was a new world, -at once fresh and frightening, in which he could hardly understand -the figures that were walking about, even his own. The flowers in the -flower-pots had a new look about them, at once bright and nameless; -and even the line of vegetables beyond could not altogether depress him -with the memories of recent levity. Had he indeed been a prophet, or -a visionary seeing the future, he might have seen that green line of -cabbages extending infinitely like a green sea to the horizon. For he -stood at the beginning of a story which was not to terminate until his -incongruous cabbage had come to mean something that he had never meant -by it. That green patch was to spread like a great green conflagration -almost to the ends of the earth. But he was a practical person and the -very reverse of a prophet; and like many other practical persons, he -often did things without very clearly knowing what he was doing. He had -the innocence of some patriarch or primitive hero in the morning of the -world, founding more than he could himself realize of his legend and -his line. Indeed he felt very much like somebody in the morning of the -world; but beyond that he could grasp nothing. - -Audrey Smith was standing not so very many yards away; for it was only -for a few strides that he had followed his elder guest towards the -gate. Yet her figure had fallen far enough back out of the foreground -to take on the green framework of the garden; so that her dress might -almost have been blue with a shade of distance. And when she spoke to -him, even from that little way off, her voice took on inevitably a new -suggestion of one calling out familiarly and from afar, as one calls -to an old companion. It moved him in a disproportionate fashion, though -all that she said was: - -“What became of your old hat?” - -“I lost it,” he replied gravely, “obviously I had to lose it. I believe -the scarecrow found it.” - -“Oh, do let’s go and look at the scarecrow,” she cried. - -He led her without a word to the kitchen-garden and gravely explained -each of its outstanding features; from the serious Mr. Archer resting -on his spade to the grotesque South Sea Island god grinning at the -corner of the plot. He spoke as with an increasing solemnity and -verbosity, and all the time knew little or nothing of what he said. - -At last she cut into his monologue with an abstraction that was almost -rude; yet her brown eyes were bright and her sympathy undisguised. - -“Don’t talk about it,” she cried with illogical enthusiasm. “It looks -as if we were really right in the middle of the country. It’s as unique -as the Garden of Eden. It’s simply the most delightful place----” - -It was at this moment, for some unaccountable reason, that the Colonel -who had lost his hat suddenly proceeded to lose his head. Standing in -that grotesque vegetable scenery, a black and stiff yet somehow stately -figure, he proceeded in the most traditional manner to offer the lady -everything he possessed, not forgetting the scarecrow or the cabbages; -a half-humorous memory of which returned to him with the boomerang of -bathos. - -“When I think of the encumbrances on the estate--” he concluded -gloomily. “Well, there they are; a scarecrow and a cannibal fetish and -a stupid man who has stuck in a rut of respectability and conventional -ways.” - -“Very conventional,” she said, “especially in his taste in hats.” - -“That was the exception, I’m afraid,” he said earnestly. “You’d find -those things very rare and most things very dull. I can’t help having -fallen in love with you; but for all that we are in different worlds; -and you belong to a younger world, which says what it thinks, and -cannot see what most of our silences and our scruples meant.” - -“I suppose we are very rude,” she said thoughtfully, “and you must -certainly excuse me if I do say what I think.” - -“I deserve no better,” he replied mournfully. - -“Well, I think I must be in love with you too,” she replied calmly. “I -don’t see what time has to do with being fond of people. You are the -most original person I ever knew.” - -“My dear, my dear,” he protested almost brokenly, “I fear you are -making a mistake. Whatever else I am, I never set up to be original.” - -“You must remember,” she replied, “that I have known a good many people -who did set up to be original. An Art School swarms with them; and -there are any number among those socialist and vegetarian friends -of mine you were talking about. They would think nothing of wearing -cabbages on their heads, of course. Any one of them would be capable of -getting inside a pumpkin if he could. Any one of them might appear in -public dressed entirely in watercress. But that’s just it. They might -well wear watercress for they are water-creatures; they go with the -stream. They do those things because those things are done; because -they are done in their own Bohemian set. Unconventionality is their -convention. I don’t mind it myself; I think it’s great fun; but that -doesn’t mean that I don’t know real strength or independence when I see -it. All that is just molten and formless; but the really strong man is -one who can make a mould and then break it. When a man like you can -suddenly do a thing like that, after twenty years of habit, for the -sake of his word, then somehow one really does feel that man is man and -master of his fate.” - -“I doubt if I am master of my fate,” replied Crane, “and I do not know -whether I ceased to be yesterday or two minutes ago.” - -He stood there for a moment like a man in heavy armour. Indeed, the -antiquated image is not inappropriate in more ways than one. The new -world within him was so alien from the whole habit in which he lived, -from the very gait and gestures of his daily life, conducted through -countless days, that his spirit had striven before it broke its shell. -But it was also true that even if he could have done what every man -wishes to do at such a moment, something supreme and satisfying, it -would have been something in a sense formal or it would not have -satisfied him. He was one of those to whom it is natural to be -ceremonial. Even the music in his mind, too deep and distant for him -to catch or echo, was the music of old and ritual dances and not of -revelry; and it was not for nothing that he had built gradually about -him that garden of the grey stone fountain and the great hedge of yew. -He bent suddenly and kissed her hand. - -“I like that,” she said. “You ought to have powdered hair and a sword.” - -“I apologize,” he said gravely, “no modern man is worthy of you. But -indeed I fear, in every sense I am not a very modern man.” - -“You must never wear that hat again,” she said, indicating the battered -original topper. - -“To tell the truth,” he observed mildly, “I had not any attention of -resuming that one.” - -“Silly,” she said briefly, “I don’t mean that hat; I mean that sort -of hat. As a matter of fact, there couldn’t be a finer hat than the -cabbage.” - -“My dear--” he protested; but she was looking at him quite seriously. - -“I told you I was an artist, and didn’t know much about literature,” -she said. “Well, do you know, it really does make a difference. -Literary people let words get between them and things. We do at least -look at the things and not the names of the things. You think a cabbage -is comic because the name sounds comic and even vulgar; something -between ‘cab’ and ‘garbage,’ I suppose. But a cabbage isn’t really -comic or vulgar. You wouldn’t think so if you simply had to paint -it. Haven’t you seen Dutch and Flemish galleries, and don’t you know -what great men painted cabbages? What they saw was certain lines and -colours; very wonderful lines and colours.” - -“It may be all very well in a picture,” he began doubtfully. - -She suddenly laughed aloud. - -“You idiot,” she cried; “don’t you know you looked perfectly splendid? -The curves were like a great turban of leaves and the root rose like -the spike of a helmet; it was rather like the turbaned helmets on some -of Rembrandt’s figures, with the face like bronze in the shadows of -green and purple. That’s the sort of thing artists can see, who keep -their eyes and heads clear of words! And then you want to apologize for -not wearing that stupid stovepipe covered with blacking, when you went -about wearing a coloured crown like a king. And you were like a king in -this country; for they were all afraid of you.” - -As he continued a faint protest, her laughter took on a more -mischievous shade. “If you’d stuck to it a little longer, I swear -they’d all have been wearing vegetables for hats. I swear I saw my -cousin the other day standing with a sort of trowel, and looking -irresolutely at a cabbage.” - -Then, after a pause, she said with a beautiful irrelevancy: - -“What was it Mr. Hood did that you said he couldn’t do?” - -But these are tales of topsy-turvydom even in the sense that they have -to be told tail-foremost. And he who would know the answer to that -question must deliver himself up to the intolerable tedium of reading -the story of The Improbable Success of Mr. Owen Hood, and an interval -must be allowed him before such torments are renewed. - - - - -II - -THE IMPROBABLE SUCCESS OF MR. OWEN HOOD - - - - -II - -THE IMPROBABLE SUCCESS OF MR. OWEN HOOD - - -Heroes who have endured the heavy labour of reading to the end the -story of The Unpresentable Appearance of Colonel Crane are aware that -his achievement was the first of a series of feats counted impossible, -like the quests of the Arthurian knights. For the purpose of this tale, -in which the Colonel is but a secondary figure, it is enough to say -that he was long known and respected, before his last escapade, as a -respectable and retired military man in a residential part of Surrey, -with a sunburnt complexion and an interest in savage mythology. As -a fact, however, he had gathered the sunburn and the savage myths -some time before he had managed to collect the respectability and the -suburban residence. In his early youth he had been a traveller of the -adventurous and even restless sort; and he only concerns this story -because he was a member of a sort of club or clique of young men whose -adventurousness verged on extravagance. They were all eccentrics of one -kind or another, some professing extreme revolutionary and some extreme -reactionary opinions, and some both. Among the latter may be classed -Mr. Robert Owen Hood, the somewhat unlegal lawyer who is the hero of -this tale. - -Robert Owen Hood was Crane’s most intimate and incongruous friend. Hood -was from the first as sedentary as Crane was adventurous. Hood was to -the end as casual as Crane was conventional. The prefix of Robert Owen -was a relic of a vague revolutionary tradition in his family; but he -inherited along with it a little money that allowed him to neglect the -law and cultivate a taste for liberty and for drifting and dreaming in -lost corners of the country, especially in the little hills between -the Severn and the Thames. In the upper reaches of the latter river is -an islet in which he loved especially to sit fishing, a shabby but not -commonplace figure clad in grey, with a mane of rust-coloured hair and -a long face with a large chin, rather like Napoleon. Beside him, on -the occasion now in question, stood the striking contrast of his alert -military friend in full travelling kit; being on the point of starting -for one of his odysseys in the South Seas. - -“Well,” demanded the impatient traveller in a tone of remonstrance, -“have you caught anything?” - -“You once asked me,” replied the angler placidly, “what I meant by -calling you a materialist. That is what I meant by calling you a -materialist.” - -“If one must be a materialist or a madman,” snorted the soldier, “give -me materialism.” - -“On the contrary,” replied his friend, “your fad is far madder than -mine. And I doubt if it’s any more fruitful. The moment men like you -see a man sitting by a river with a rod, they are insanely impelled -to ask him what he has caught. But when you go off to shoot big game, -as you call it, nobody asks you what you have caught. Nobody expects -you to bring home a hippopotamus for supper. Nobody has ever seen you -walking up Pall Mall, followed respectfully by a captive giraffe. -Your bag of elephants, though enormous, seems singularly unobtrusive; -left in the cloak-room, no doubt. Personally, I doubt if you ever -catch anything. It’s all decorously hidden in desert sand and dust -and distance. But what I catch is something far more elusive, and as -slippery as any fish. It is the soul of England.” - -“I should think you’d catch a cold if not a fish,” answered Crane, -“sitting dangling your feet in a pool like that. I like to move about a -little more. Dreaming is all very well in its way.” - -At this point a symbolic cloud ought to have come across the sun, and -a certain shadow of mystery and silence must rest for a moment upon -the narrative. For it was at this moment that James Crane, being blind -with inspiration, uttered his celebrated Prophecy, upon which this -improbable narrative turns. As was commonly the case with men uttering -omens, he was utterly unconscious of anything ominous about what he -said. A moment after he would probably not know that he had said it. A -moment after, it was as if a cloud of strange shape had indeed passed -from the face of the sun. - -The prophecy had taken the form of a proverb. In due time the patient, -the all-suffering reader, may learn what proverb. As it happened, -indeed, the conversation had largely consisted of proverbs; as is often -the case with men like Hood, whose hearts are with that old English -country life from which all the proverbs came. But it was Crane who -said: - -“It’s all very well to be fond of England; but a man who wants to help -England mustn’t let the grass grow under his feet.” - -“And that’s just what I want to do,” answered Hood. “That’s exactly -what even your poor tired people in big towns really want to do. When -a wretched clerk walks down Threadneedle Street, wouldn’t he be really -delighted if he could look down and see the grass growing under his -feet; a magic green carpet in the middle of the pavement? It would be -like a fairy-tale.” - -“Well, but he wouldn’t sit like a stone as you do,” replied the other. -“A man might let the grass grow under his feet without actually letting -the ivy grow up his legs. That sounds like a fairy-tale too, if you -like, but there’s no proverb to recommend it.” - -“Oh, there are proverbs on my side, if you come to that,” answered Hood -laughing. “I might remind you about the rolling stone that gathers no -moss.” - -“Well, who wants to gather moss except a few fussy old ladies?” -demanded Crane. “Yes, I’m a rolling stone, I suppose; and I go rolling -round the earth as the earth goes rolling round the sun. But I’ll tell -you what; there’s one kind of stone that does really gather moss.” - -“And what is that, my rambling geologist?” - -“A gravestone,” said Crane. - -There was a silence, and Hood sat gazing with his owlish face at the -dim pool in which the dark woods were mirrored. At last he said: - -“Moss isn’t the only thing found on that. Sometimes there is the word -_Resurgam_.” - -“Well, I hope you will,” said Crane genially. “But the trumpet will -have to be pretty loud to wake you up. It’s my opinion you’ll be too -late for the Day of Judgment.” - -“Now if this were a true dramatic dialogue,” remarked Hood, “I should -answer that it would be better for you if you were. But it hardly seems -a Christian sentiment for a parting. Are you really off to-day?” - -“Yes, to-night,” replied his friend. “Sure you won’t come with me to -the Cannibal Islands?” - -“I prefer my own island,” said Mr. Owen Hood. - -When his friend had gone he continued to gaze abstractedly at the -tranquil topsy-turvydom in the green mirror of the pool, nor did he -change his posture and hardly moved his head. This might be partly -explained by the still habits of a fisherman; but to tell the truth, -it was not easy to discover whether the solitary lawyer really wanted -to catch any fish. He often carried a volume of Isaak Walton in his -pocket, having a love of the old English literature as of the old -English landscape. But if he was an angler, he certainly was not a very -complete angler. - -But the truth is that Owen Hood had not been quite candid with his -friend about the spell that held him to that particular islet in the -Upper Thames. If he had said, as he was quite capable of saying, that -he expected to catch the miraculous draught of fishes or the whale -that swallowed Jonah, or even the great sea-serpent, his expressions -would have been merely symbolical. But they would have been the symbol -of something as unique and unattainable. For Mr. Owen Hood was really -fishing for something that very few fishermen ever catch; and that was -a dream of his boyhood, and something that had happened on that lonely -spot long ago. - -Years before, when he was a very young man, he had sat fishing on that -island one evening as the twilight turned to dark, and two or three -broad bands of silver were all that was left of the sunset behind the -darkening trees. The birds were dropping out of the sky and there was -no noise except the soft noises of the river. Suddenly and without a -sound, as comes a veritable vision, a girl had come out of the woods -opposite. She spoke to him across the stream, asking him he hardly -knew what, which he answered he hardly knew how. She was dressed in -white and carried a bunch of bluebells loose in her hand; her hair -in a straight fringe of gold was low on her forehead; she was pale -like ivory, and her pale eyelids had a sort of flutter as of nervous -emotion. There came on him a strangling sense of stupidity. But he must -have managed to speak civilly, for she lingered; and he must have said -something to amuse her, for she laughed. Then followed the incident he -could never analyse, though he was an introspective person. Making a -gesture towards something, she managed to drop her loose blue flowers -into the water. He knew not what sort of whirlwind was in his head, -but it seemed to him that prodigious things were happening, as in an -epic of the gods, of which all visible things were but the small signs. -Before he knew where he was he was standing dripping on the other bank; -for he had splashed in somehow and saved the bunch as if it had been -a baby drowning. Of all the things she said he could only recall one -sentence, that repeated itself perpetually in his mind: “You’ll catch -your death of cold.” - -He only caught the cold and not the death; yet even the notion of the -latter did not somehow seem disproportionate. The doctor, to whom he -was forced to give some sort of explanation of his immersion, was much -interested in the story, or what he heard of it, having a pleasure in -working out the pedigrees of the county families and the relationships -of the best houses in the neighbourhood. By some rich process of -elimination he deduced that the lady must be Miss Elizabeth Seymour -from Marley Court. The doctor spoke with a respectful relish of such -things; he was a rising young practitioner named Hunter, afterwards a -neighbour of Colonel Crane. He shared Hood’s admiration for the local -landscape, and said it was owing to the beautiful way in which Marley -Court was kept up. - -“It’s land-owners like that,” he said, “who have made England. It’s -all very well for Radicals to talk; but where should we be without the -land-owners?” - -“Oh, I’m all for land-owners,” said Hood rather wearily. “I like them -so much I should like more of them. More and more land-owners. Hundreds -and thousands of them.” - -It is doubtful whether Dr. Hunter quite followed his enthusiasm, or -even his meaning; but Hood had reason later to remember this little -conversation; so far as he was in a mood to remember any conversations -except one. - -Anyhow, it were vain to disguise from the intelligent though exhausted -reader that this was probably the true origin of Mr. Hood’s habit of -sitting solidly on that island and gazing abstractedly at that bank. -All through the years when he felt his first youth was passing, and -even when he seemed to be drifting towards middle age, he haunted that -valley like a ghost, waiting for something that never came again. It is -by no means certain, in the last and most subtle analysis, that he even -expected it to come again. Somehow it seemed too like a miracle for -that. Only this place had become the shrine of the miracle; and he felt -that if anything ever did happen there, he must be there to see. And -so it came about that he was there to see when things did happen; and -rather queer things had happened before the end. - -One morning he saw an extraordinary thing. That indeed would not have -seemed extraordinary to most people; but it was quite apocalyptic to -him. A dusty man came out of the woods carrying what looked like dusty -pieces of timber, and proceeded to erect on the bank what turned out -to be a sort of hoarding, a very large wooden notice-board on which -was written in enormous letters: “To Be Sold,” with remarks in smaller -letters about the land and the name of the land agents. For the first -time for years Owen Hood stood up in his place and left his fishing, -and shouted questions across the river. The man answered with the -greatest patience and good-humour; but it is probable that he went -away convinced that he had been talking to a wandering lunatic. - -That was the beginning of what was for Owen Hood a crawling nightmare. -The change advanced slowly, by a process covering years, but it -seemed to him all the time that he was helpless and paralysed in its -presence, precisely as a man is paralysed in an actual nightmare. He -laughed with an almost horrible laughter to think that a man in a -modern society is supposed to be master of his fate and free to pursue -his pleasures; when he has not power to prevent the daylight he looks -on from being darkened, or the air he breathes from being turned to -poison, or the silence that is his full possession from being shaken -with the cacophony of hell. There was something, he thought grimly, in -Dr. Hunter’s simple admiration for agricultural aristocracy. There was -something in quite primitive and even barbarous aristocracy. Feudal -lords went in fitfully for fights and forays; they put collars round -the necks of some serfs; they occasionally put halters round the necks -of a few of them. But they did not wage war day and night against the -five senses of man. - -There had appeared first on the river-bank small sheds and shanties, -for workmen who seemed to be rather lengthily occupied in putting -up larger sheds and shanties. To the very last, when the factory -was finished, it was not easy for a traditional eye to distinguish -between what was temporary and what was permanent. It did not look as -if any of it could be permanent, if there was anything natural in the -nature of things, so to speak. But whatever was the name and nature -of that amorphous thing, it swelled and increased and even multiplied -without clear division; until there stood on the river-bank a great -black patchwork block of buildings terminating in a tall brick factory -chimney from which a stream of smoke mounted into the silent sky. A -heap of some sort of débris, scrapped iron and similar things, lay in -the foreground; and a broken bar, red with rust, had fallen on the spot -where the girl had been standing when she brought bluebells out of the -wood. - -He did not leave his island. Rural and romantic and sedentary as he may -have seemed, he was not the son of an old revolutionist for nothing. It -was not altogether in vain that his father had called him Robert Owen -or that his friends had sometimes called him Robin Hood. Sometimes, -indeed, his soul sank within him with a mortal sickness that was -near to suicide, but more often he marched up and down in a militant -fashion, being delighted to see the tall wild-flowers waving on the -banks like flags within a stone’s-throw of all he hated, and muttering, -“Throw out the banners on the outward wall.” He had already, when the -estate of Marley Court was broken up for building, taken some steps -to establish himself on the island, had built a sort of hut there, in -which it was possible to picnic for considerable periods. - -One morning when dawn was still radiant behind the dark factory and -light lay in a satin sheen upon the water, there crept out upon that -satin something like a thickening thread of a different colour and -material. It was a thin ribbon of some other liquid that did not mingle -with the water, but lay on top of it wavering like a worm; and Owen -Hood watched it as a man watches a snake. It looked like a snake, -having opalescent colours not without intrinsic beauty; but to him it -was a very symbolic snake; like the serpent that destroyed Eden. A few -days afterwards there were a score of snakes covering the surface; -little crawling rivers that moved on the river but did not mix with it, -being as alien as witch’s oils. Later there came darker liquids with no -pretensions to beauty, black and brown flakes of grease that floated -heavily. - -It was highly characteristic of Hood that to the last he was rather -hazy about the nature and purpose of the factory; and therefore about -the ingredients of the chemicals that were floating into the river; -beyond the fact that they were mostly of the oily sort and floated -on the water in flakes and lumps, and that something resembling -petrol seemed to predominate, used perhaps rather for power than -raw material. He had heard a rustic rumour that the enterprise was -devoted to hair-dye. It smelt rather like a soap factory. So far as he -ever understood it, he gathered that it was devoted to what might be -considered as a golden mean between hair-dye and soap, some kind of -new and highly hygienic cosmetics. There had been a yet more feverish -fashion in these things, since Professor Hake had written his great -book proving that cosmetics were of all things the most hygienic. And -Hood had seen many of the meadows of his childhood now brightened and -adorned by large notices inscribed “Why Grow Old?” with the portrait of -a young woman grinning in a regrettable manner. The appropriate name on -the notices was Bliss, and he gathered that it all had something to do -with the great factory. - -Resolved to know a little more than this about the matter, he began -to make inquiries and complaints, and engaged in a correspondence -which ended in an actual interview with some of the principal persons -involved. The correspondence had gone on for a long time before -it came anywhere near to anything so natural as that. Indeed, the -correspondence for a long time was entirely on his side. For the big -businesses are quite as unbusinesslike as the Government departments; -they are no better in efficiency and much worse in manners. But he -obtained his interview at last, and it was with a sense of sour -amusement that he came face to face with four people whom he wanted to -meet. - -One was Sir Samuel Bliss, for he had not yet performed those party -services which led to his being known to us all as Lord Normantowers. -He was a small, alert man like a ferret, with bristles of grey beard -and hair, and active or even agitated movements. The second was his -manager, Mr. Low, a stout, dark man with a thick nose and thick rings, -who eyed strangers with a curious heavy suspicion like a congested -sense of injury. It is believed that he expected to be persecuted. The -third man was something of a surprise, for he was no other than his -old friend Dr. Horace Hunter, as healthy and hearty as ever, but even -better dressed; as he now had a great official appointment as some kind -of medical inspector of the sanitary conditions of the district. But -the fourth man was the greatest surprise of all. For it appeared that -their conference was honoured by so great a figure in the scientific -world as Professor Hake himself, who had revolutionized the modern -mind with his new discoveries about the complexion in relation to -health. When Hood realized who he was, a light of somewhat sinister -understanding dawned on his long face. - -On this occasion the Professor advanced an even more interesting -theory. He was a big, blond man with blinking eyes and a bull neck; -and doubtless there was more in him than met the eye, as is the way -with great men. He spoke last, and his theory was expounded with a -certain air of finality. The manager had already stated that it was -quite impossible for large quantities of petrol to have escaped, as -only a given amount was used in the factory. Sir Samuel had explained, -in what seemed an irascible and even irrelevant manner, that he had -presented several parks to the public, and had the dormitories of his -work-people decorated in the simplest and best taste, and nobody could -accuse him of vandalism or not caring for beauty and all that. Then it -was that Professor Hake explained the theory of the Protective Screen. -Even if it were possible, he said, for some thin film of petrol to -appear on the water, as it would not mix with the water the latter -would actually be kept in a clearer condition. It would act, as it -were, as a Cap; as does the gelatinous Cap upon certain preserved foods. - -“That is a very interesting view,” observed Hood; “I suppose you will -write another book about that?” - -“I think we are all the more privileged,” remarked Bliss, “in hearing -of the discovery in this personal fashion, before our expert has laid -it before the public.” - -“Yes,” said Hood, “your expert is very expert, isn’t he--in writing -books?” - -Sir Samuel Bliss stiffened in all his bristles. “I trust,” he said, -“you are not implying any doubt that our expert is an expert.” - -“I have no doubt of your expert,” answered Hood gravely, “I do not -doubt either that he is expert or that he is yours.” - -“Really, gentlemen,” cried Bliss in a sort of radiance of protest, “I -think such an insinuation about a man in Professor Hake’s position----” - -“Not at all, not at all,” said Hood soothingly, “I’m sure it’s a most -comfortable position.” - -The Professor blinked at him, but a light burned in the eyeballs under -the heavy eyelids. - -“If you come here talking like that--” he began, when Hood cut off -his speech by speaking across him to somebody else, with a cheerful -rudeness that was like a kick in its contempt. - -“And what do you say, my dear doctor?” he observed, addressing Hunter. -“You used to be almost as romantic as myself about the amenities of -this place. Do you remember how much you admired the landlords for -keeping the place quiet and select; and how you said the old families -preserved the beauty of old England?” - -There was a silence, and then the young doctor spoke. - -“Well, it doesn’t follow a fellow can’t believe in progress. That’s -what’s the matter with you, Hood; you don’t believe in progress. We -must move with the times; and somebody always has to suffer. Besides, -it doesn’t matter so much about river-water nowadays. It doesn’t even -matter so much about the main water-supply. When the new Bill is -passed, people will be obliged to use the Bulton Filter in any case.” - -“I see,” said Hood reflectively. “You first make a mess of the water -for money, and then make a virtue of forcing people to clean it -themselves.” - -“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Hunter angrily. - -“Well, I was thinking at the moment,” said Hood in his rather cryptic -way. “I was thinking about Mr. Bulton. The man who owns the filters. -I was wondering whether he might join us. We seem such a happy family -party.” - -“I cannot see the use of prolonging this preposterous conversation,” -said Sir Samuel. - -“Don’t call the poor Professor’s theory preposterous,” remonstrated -Hood. “A little fanciful, perhaps. And as for the doctor’s view, surely -there’s nothing preposterous in that. You don’t think the chemicals -will poison all the fish I catch, do you, Doctor?” - -“No, of course not,” replied Hunter curtly. - -“They will adapt themselves by natural selection,” said Hood dreamily. -“They will develop organs suitable to an oily environment--will learn -to love petrol.” - -“Oh, I have no time for this nonsense,” said Hunter, and was turning to -go, when Hood stepped in front of him and looked at him very steadily. - -“You mustn’t call natural selection nonsense,” he said. “I know all -about that, at any rate. I can’t tell whether liquids tipped off the -shore will fall into the river, because I don’t understand hydraulics. -I don’t know whether your machinery makes a hell of a noise every -morning, for I’ve never studied acoustics. I don’t know whether it -stinks or not, because I haven’t read your expert’s book on ‘The Nose.’ -But I know all about adaptation to environment. I know that some of -the lower organisms do really change with their changing conditions. I -know there are creatures so low that they do survive by surrendering -to every succession of mud and slime; and when things are slow they -are slow, and when things are fast they are fast, and when things are -filthy they are filthy. I thank you for convincing me of that.” - -He did not wait for a reply, but walked out of the room after bowing -curtly to the rest; and that was the end of the great conference on the -question of riparian rights and perhaps the end of Thames Conservancy -and of the old aristocratic England, with its good and ill. - -The general public never heard very much about it; at least until one -catastrophic scene which was to follow. There was some faint ripple of -the question some months later, when Dr. Horace Hunter was standing -for Parliament in that division. One or two questions were asked about -his duties in relation to river pollution; but it was soon apparent -that no party particularly wished to force the issue against the best -opinions advanced on the other side. The greatest living authority on -hygiene, Professor Hake, had actually written to _The Times_ (in the -interests of science) to say that in such a hypothetical case as that -mentioned, a medical man could only do what Dr. Hunter had apparently -done. It so happened that the chief captain of industry in that part -of the Thames Valley, Sir Samuel Bliss, had himself, after gravely -weighing the rival policies, decided to Vote for Hunter. The great -organizer’s own mind was detached and philosophical in the matter; but -it seems that his manager, a Mr. Low, was of the same politics and a -more practical and pushful spirit; warmly urging the claims of Hunter -on his work-people; pointing out the many practical advantages they -would gain by voting for that physician, and the still more practical -disadvantages they might suffer by not doing so. Hence it followed that -the blue ribbons, which were the local badges of the Hunterians, were -not only to be found attached to the iron railings and wooden posts -of the factory, but to various human figures, known as “hands,” which -moved to and fro in it. - -Hood took no interest in the election; but while it was proceeding he -followed the matter a little further in another form. He was a lawyer, -a lazy, but in some ways a learned one; for, his tastes being studious, -he had originally learned the trade he had never used. More in defiance -than in hope, he once carried the matter into the Courts, pleading his -own cause on the basis of a law of Henry the Third against frightening -the fish of the King’s liege subjects in the Thames Valley. The judge, -in giving judgment, complimented him on the ability and plausibility of -his contention, but ultimately rejected it on grounds equally historic -and remote. His lordship argued that no test seemed to be provided for -ascertaining the degree of fear in the fish, or whether it amounted -to that bodily fear of which the law took cognizance. But the learned -judge pointed out the precedent of a law of Richard the Second against -certain witches who had frightened children; which had been interpreted -by so great an authority as Coke in the sense that the child “must -return and of his own will testify to his fear.” It did not seem to -be alleged that any one of the fish in question had returned and laid -any such testimony before any proper authority; and he therefore gave -judgment for the defendants. And when the learned judge happened to -meet Lord Normantowers (as he was by this time) out at dinner that -evening, he was gaily rallied and congratulated by that new nobleman on -the lucidity and finality of his judgment. Indeed, the learned judge -had really relished the logic both of his own and Hood’s contention; -but the conclusion was what he would have come to in any case. For our -judges are not hampered by any hide-bound code; they are progressive, -like Dr. Hunter, and ally themselves on principle with the progressive -forces of the age, especially those they are likely to meet out at -dinner. - -But it was this abortive law case that led up to something that -altogether obliterated it in a blaze of glory, so far as Mr. Owen -Hood was concerned. He had just left the courts, and turning down the -streets that led in the direction of the station, he made his way -thither in something of a brown study, as was his wont. The streets -were filled with faces; it struck him for the first time that there -were thousands and thousands of people in the world. There were more -faces at the railway station, and then, when he had glanced idly at -four or five of them, he saw one that was to him as incredible as the -face of the dead. - -She was coming casually out of the tea-room, carrying a handbag, just -like anybody else. That mystical perversity of his mind, which had -insisted on sealing up the sacred memory like something hardly to be -sought in mere curiosity, had fixed it in its original colours and -setting, like something of which no detail could be changed without -the vision dissolving. He would have conceived it almost impossible -that she could appear in anything but white or out of anything but a -wood. And he found himself turned topsy-turvy by an old and common -incredulity of men in his condition; being startled by the coincidence -that blue suited her as well as white; and that in what he remembered -of that woodland there was something else; something to be said even -for teashops and railway stations. - -She stopped in front of him and her pale, fluttering eyelids lifted -from her blue-grey eyes. - -“Why,” she said, “you are the boy that jumped in the river!” - -“I’m no longer a boy,” answered Hood, “but I’m ready to jump in the -river again.” - -“Well, don’t jump on the railway-line,” she said, as he turned with a -swiftness suggestive of something of the kind. - -“To tell you the truth,” he said, “I was thinking of jumping into your -railway-train. Do you mind if I jump into your railway-train?” - -“Well, I’m going to Birkstead,” she said rather doubtfully. - -Mr. Owen Hood did not in the least care where she was going, as he -had resolved to go there; but as a matter of fact, he remembered a -wayside station on that line that lay very near to what he had in view; -so he tumbled into the carriage if possible with more alacrity; and -landscapes shot by them as they sat looking in a dazed and almost -foolish fashion at each other. At last the girl smiled with a sense of -the absurdity of the thing. - -“I heard about you from a friend of yours,” she said; “he came to call -on us soon after it happened; at least that was when he first came. You -know Dr. Hunter, don’t you?” - -“Yes,” replied Owen, a shadow coming over his shining hour. “Do you--do -you know him well?” - -“I know him pretty well now,” said Miss Elizabeth Seymour. - -The shadow on his spirit blackened swiftly; he suspected something -quite suddenly and savagely. Hunter, in Crane’s old phrase, was not -a man who let the grass grow under his feet. It was so like him to -have somehow used the incident as an introduction to the Seymours. -Things were always stepping-stones for Hunter, and the little rock -in the river had been a stepping-stone to the country house. But was -the country house a stepping-stone to something else? Suddenly Hood -realized that all his angers had been very abstract angers. He had -never hated a man before. - -At that moment the train stopped at the station of Cowford. - -“I wish you’d get out here with me,” he said abruptly, “only for a -little--and it might be the last time. I want you to do something.” - -She looked at him with a curious expression and said in a rather low -voice, “What do you want me to do?” - -“I want you to come and pick bluebells,” he said harshly. - -She stepped out of the train, and they went up a winding country road -without a word. - -“I remember!” she said suddenly. “When you get to the top of this hill -you see the wood where the bluebells were, and your little island -beyond.” - -“Come on and see it,” said Owen. - -They stepped on the crest of the hill and stood. Below them the black -factory belched its livid smoke into the air; and where the wood had -been were rows of little houses like boxes, built of dirty yellow brick. - -Hood spoke. “And when you shall see the abomination of desolation -sitting in the Holy of Holies--isn’t that when the world is supposed -to end? I wish the world would end now; with you and me standing on a -hill.” - -She was staring at the place with parted lips and more than her -ordinary pallor; he knew she understood something monstrous and -symbolic in the scene; yet her first remark was jerky and trivial. On -the nearest of the yellow brick boxes were visible the cheap colours -of various advertisements; and larger than the rest a blue poster -proclaiming “Vote for Hunter.” With a final touch of tragic pathos, -Hood remembered that it was the last and most sensational day of the -election. But the girl had already found her voice. - -“Is that Dr. Hunter?” she asked with commonplace curiosity; “is he -standing for Parliament?” - -A load that lay on Hood’s mind like a rock suddenly rose like an eagle; -and he felt as if the hill he stood on were higher than Everest. By the -insight of his own insanity, he knew well enough that _she_ would have -known well enough whether Hunter was standing, if--if there had been -anything like what he supposed. The removal of the steadying weight -staggered him, and he had something quite indefensible. - -“I thought you would know. I thought you and he were probably--well, -the truth is I thought you were engaged, though I really don’t know -why.” - -“I can’t imagine why,” said Elizabeth Seymour. “I heard he was engaged -to Lord Normantowers’s daughter. They’ve got our old place now, you -know.” - -There was a silence and then Hood spoke suddenly in a loud and cheerful -voice. - -“Well, what I say is ‘Vote for Hunter,’” he said heartily. “After all, -why not vote for Hunter? Good old Hunter! I hope he’ll be a Member of -Parliament. I hope he’ll be Prime Minister. I hope he’ll be President -of the World State that Wells talks about. By George, he deserves to -be Emperor of the Solar System.” - -“But why,” she protested, “why should he deserve all that?” - -“For not being engaged to you, of course,” he replied. - -“Oh!” she said, and something of a secret shiver in her voice went -through him like a silver bell. - -Abruptly, all of a sudden, the rage of raillery seemed to leave his -voice and his face, so that his Napoleonic profile looked earnest and -eager and much younger, like the profile of the young Napoleon. His -wide shoulders lost the slight stoop that books had given them, and his -rather wild red hair fell away from his lifted head. - -“There is one thing I must tell you about him,” he said, “and one -thing you must hear about me. My friends tell me I am a drifter and a -dreamer; that I let the grass grow under my feet; I must tell you at -least how and why I once let it grow. Three days after that day by the -river, I talked to Hunter; he was attending me and he talked about it -and you. Of course he knew nothing about either. But he is a practical -man; a very practical man; he does not dream or drift. From the way -he talked I knew he was considering even then how the accident could -be turned to account; to his account and perhaps to mine too; for he -is good-natured; yes, he is quite good-natured. I think that if I had -taken his hint and formed a sort of social partnership, I might have -known you six years sooner, not as a memory, but--an acquaintance. And -I could not do it. Judge me how you will, I could not bring myself to -do it. That is what is meant by being born with a bee in the bonnet, -with an impediment in the speech, with a stumbling-block in the path, -with a sulky scruple in the soul. I could not bear to approach you by -that door, with that gross and grinning flunkey holding it open. I -could not bear that suffocatingly substantial snob to bulk so big in -my story or know so much of my secret. A revulsion I could never utter -made me feel that the vision should remain my own even by remaining -unfulfilled; but it should not be vulgarized. That is what is meant by -being a failure in life. And when my best friend made a prophecy about -me, and said there was something I should never do, I thought he was -right.” - -“Why, what do you mean?” she asked rather faintly, “what was it you -would never do?” - -“Never mind that now,” he said, with the shadow of a returning smile. -“Rather strange things are stirring in me just now, and who knows but -I may attempt something yet? But before all else, I must make clear -for once what I am and for what I lived. There are men like me in the -world; I am far from thinking they are the best or the most valuable; -but they exist, to confound all the clever people and the realists and -the new novelists. There has been and there is only one thing for me; -something that in the normal sense I never even knew. I walked about -the world blind, with my eyes turned inwards, looking at you. For days -after a night when I had dreamed of you, I was broken; like a man who -had seen a ghost. I read over and over the great and grave lines of the -old poets, because they alone were worthy of you. And when I saw you -again by chance, I thought the world had already ended; and it was that -return and tryst beyond the grave that is too good to be true.” - -“I do not think,” she answered in a low voice, “that the belief is too -good to be true.” - -As he looked at her a thrill went through him like a message too swift -to be understood; and at the back of his mind something awoke that -repeated again and again like a song the same words: “too good to be -true.” There was always something pathetic, even in her days of pride, -about the short-sighted look of her half-closed eyes; but it was for -other reasons that they were now blinking in the strong white sunlight, -almost as if they were blind. They were blind and bright with tears: -she mastered her voice and it was steady. - -“You talk about failures,” she said. “I suppose most people would call -me a failure and all my people failures now; except those who would say -we never failed, because we never had to try. Anyhow, we’re all poor -enough now; I don’t know whether you know that I’m teaching music. -I dare say we deserved to go. I dare say we were useless. Some of us -tried to be harmless. But--but now I _must_ say something, about some -of us who tried rather hard to be harmless--in that way. The new people -will tell you those ideals were Victorian and Tennysonian, and all the -rest of it--well, it doesn’t matter what they say. They know quite as -little about us as we about them. But to you, when you talk like that -... what can I do, but tell you that if we were stiff, if we were cold, -if we were careful and conservative, it was because deep down in our -souls some of us _did_ believe that there might be loyalty and love -like that, for which a woman might well wait even to the end of the -world. What is it to these people if we choose not to be drugged or -distracted with anything less worthy? But it would be hard indeed if -when I find it _does_ exist after all ... hard on you, harder on me, -if when I had really found it at last....” The catch in her voice came -again and silence caught and held her. - -He took one stride forward as into the heart of a whirlwind; and they -met on the top of that windy hill as if they had come from the ends of -the earth. - -“This is an epic,” he said, “which is rather an action than a word. I -have lived with words too long.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“I mean you have turned me into a man of action,” he replied. “So long -as you were in the past, nothing was better than the past. So long as -you were only a dream, nothing was better than dreaming. But now I am -going to do something that no man has ever done before.” - -He turned towards the valley and flung out his hand with a gesture, -almost as if the hand had held a sword. - -“I am going to break the Prophecy,” he cried in a loud voice. “I am -going to defy the omens of my doom and make fun of my evil star. Those -who called me a failure shall own I have succeeded where all humanity -has failed. The real hero is not he who is bold enough to fulfil the -predictions, but he who is bold enough to falsify them. And you shall -see one falsified to-night.” - -“What in the world are you going to do?” she asked. - -He laughed suddenly. “The first thing to do,” he cried, swinging round -with a new air of resolution and even cheerfulness, “the very first -thing to do is to Vote For Hunter. Or, at any rate, help to get him -into Parliament.” - -“But why in the world,” she asked wondering, “should you want so much -to get Dr. Hunter into Parliament?” - -“Well, one must do something,” he said with an appearance of easy good -sense, “to celebrate the occasion. We must do something; and after all -he must go somewhere, poor devil. You will say, why not throw him into -the river? It would relieve the feelings and make a splash. But I’m -going to make something much bigger than a splash. Besides, I don’t -want him in my nice river. I’d much rather pick him up and throw him -all the way to Westminster. Much more sensible and suitable. Obviously -there ought to be a brass band and a torchlight procession somewhere -to-night; and why shouldn’t he have a bit of the fun?” - -He stopped suddenly as if surprised at his own words: for indeed his -own phrase had fallen, for him, with the significance of a falling star. - -“Of course!” he muttered. “A torchlight procession! I’ve been feeling -that what I wanted was trumpets and what I really want is torches. Yes, -I believe it could be done! Yes, the hour is come! By stars and blazes, -I will give him a torchlight procession!” - -He had been almost dancing with excitement on the top of the ridge; now -he suddenly went bounding down the slope beyond, calling to the girl to -follow, as carelessly as if they had been two children playing at hide -and seek. Strangely enough, perhaps, she did follow; more strangely -still when we consider the extravagant scenes through which she allowed -herself to be led. They were scenes more insanely incongruous with all -her sensitive and even secretive dignity than if she had been changing -hats with a costermonger on a Bank Holiday. For there the world would -only be loud with vulgarity, and here it was also loud with lies. She -could never have described that Saturnalia of a political election; but -she did dimly feel the double impression of a harlequinade at the end -of a pantomime and of Hood’s phrase about the end of the world. It was -as if a Bank Holiday could also be a Day of Judgment. But as the farce -could no longer offend her, so the tragedy could no longer terrify. -She went through it all with a wan smile, which perhaps nobody in the -world would have known her well enough to interpret. It was not in the -normal sense excitement; yet it was something much more positive than -patience. In a sense perhaps, more than ever before in her lonely life, -she was walled up in her ivory tower; but it was all alight within, as -if it were lit with candles or lined with gold. - -Hood’s impetuous movements brought them to the bank of the river and -the outer offices of the factory, all of which were covered with the -coloured posters of the candidature, and one of which was obviously -fitted up as a busy and bustling committee-room. Hood actually met -Mr. Low coming out of it, buttoned up in a fur coat and bursting -with speechless efficiency. But Mr. Low’s beady black eyes glistened -with an astonishment bordering on suspicion when Hood in the most -hearty fashion offered his sympathy and co-operation. That strange -subconscious fear, that underlay all the wealthy manager’s success and -security in this country, always came to the surface at the sight of -Owen Hood’s long ironical face. Just at that moment, however, one of -the local agents rushed at him in a distracted fashion, with telegrams -in his hand. They were short of canvassers; they were short of cars; -they were short of speakers; the crowd at Little Puddleton had been -waiting half an hour; Dr. Hunter could not get round to them till ten -past nine, and so on. The agent in his agony would probably have hailed -a Margate nigger and entrusted him with the cause of the great National -Party, without any really philosophical inquiry into the nigger’s -theory of citizenship. For all such over-practical push and bustle in -our time is always utterly unpractical at the last minute and in the -long run. On that night Robert Owen Hood would have been encouraged to -go anywhere and say anything; and he did. It might be interesting to -imagine what the lady thought about it; but it is possible that she did -not think about it. She had a radiantly abstracted sense of passing -through a number of ugly rooms and sheds with flaring gas and stacks of -leaflets behind which little irritable men ran about like rabbits. The -walls were covered with large allegorical pictures printed in line or -in a few bright colours, representing Dr. Hunter as clad in armour, as -slaying dragons, as rescuing ladies rather like classical goddesses, -and so on. Lest it should be too literally understood that Dr. Hunter -was in the habit of killing dragons in his daily round, as a form of -field-sport, the dragon was inscribed with its name in large letters. -Apparently its name was “National Extravagance.” Lest there should be -any doubt about the alternative which Dr. Hunter had discovered as a -corrective to extravagance, the sword which he was thrusting through -the dragon’s body was inscribed with the word “Economy.” Elizabeth -Seymour, through whose happy but bewildered mind these pictures -passed, could not but reflect vaguely that she herself had lately but -to practise a good deal of economy and resist a good many temptations -to extravagance; but it would never have occurred to her unaided -imagination to conceive the action as that of plunging a sword into -a scaly monster of immense size. In the central committee-room they -actually came face to face for a moment with the candidate, who came -in very hot and breathless with a silk hat on the back of his head; -where he had possibly forgotten it, for he certainly did not remove it. -She was a little ashamed of being sensitive about such trifles; but -she came to the conclusion that she would not like to have a husband -standing for Parliament. - -“We’ve rounded up all those people down Bleak Row,” said Dr. Hunter. -“No good going down The Hole and those filthy places. No votes there. -Streets ought to be abolished and the people too.” - -“Well, we’ve had a very good meeting in the Masonic Hall,” said the -agent cheerfully. “Lord Normantowers spoke, and really he got through -all right. Told some stories, you know; and they stood it capitally.” - -“And now,” said Owen Hood, slapping his hands together in an almost -convivial manner, “what about this torchlight procession?” - -“This what procession?” asked the agent. - -“Do you mean to tell me,” said Hood sternly, “that arrangements are -not complete for the torchlight procession of Dr. Hunter? That you are -going to let this night of triumph pass without kindling a hundred -flames to light the path of the conqueror? Do you realize that the -hearts of a whole people have spontaneously stirred and chosen him? -That the suffering poor murmured in their sleep ‘Vote For Hunter’ -long before the Caucus came by a providential coincidence to the -same conclusion? Would not the people in The Hole set fire to their -last poor sticks of furniture to do him honour? Why, from this chair -alone----” - -He caught up the chair on which Hunter had been sitting and began to -break it enthusiastically. In this he was hastily checked; but he -actually succeeded in carrying the company with him in his proposal, -thus urged at the eleventh hour. - -By nightfall he had actually organized his torchlight procession, -escorting the triumphant Hunter, covered with blue ribbons, to the -riverside, rather as if the worthy doctor were to be baptized like a -convert or drowned like a witch. For that matter, Hood might possibly -intend to burn the witch; for he brandished a blazing torch he carried -so as to make a sort of halo round Hunter’s astonished countenance. -Then, springing on the scrap-heap by the brink of the river, he -addressed the crowd for the last time. - -“Fellow-citizens, we meet upon the shore of the Thames, the Thames -which is to Englishmen all that the Tiber ever was to Romans. We meet -in a valley which has been almost as much the haunt of English poets as -of English birds. Never was there an art so native to our island as our -old national tradition of landscape-painting in water-colour; never was -that water-colour so luminous or so delicate as when dedicated to these -holy waters. It was in such a scene that one of the most exquisite of -our elder poets repeated as a burden to his meditations the single -line, ‘Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song.’ - -“Rumours have been heard of some intention to trouble these waters; but -we have been amply reassured. Names that now stand as high as those of -our national poets and painters are a warrant that the stream is still -as clear and pure and beneficent as of old. We all know the beautiful -work that Mr. Bulton has done in the matter of filters. Dr. Hunter -supports Mr. Bulton. I mean Mr. Bulton supports Dr. Hunter. I may also -mention no less a man than Mr. Low. Sweet Thames, run softly till I end -my song. - -“But, then, for that matter, we all support Dr. Hunter. I myself have -always found him quite supportable; I should say quite satisfactory. He -is truly a progressive, and nothing gives me greater pleasure than to -watch him progress. As somebody said, I lie awake at night; and in the -silence of the whole universe, I seem to hear him climbing, climbing, -climbing. All the numerous patients among whom he has laboured so -successfully in this locality will join in a heartfelt expression of -joy if he passes to the higher world of Westminster. I trust I shall -not be misunderstood. Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song. - -“My only purpose to-night is to express that unanimity. There may -have been times when I differed from Dr. Hunter; but I am glad to say -that all that is passed, and I have now nothing but the most friendly -feelings towards him, for reasons which I will not mention, though I -have plenty to say. In token of this reconciliation I here solemnly -cast from me this torch. As that firebrand is quenched in the cool -crystal waters of that sacred stream, so shall all such feuds perish in -the healing pool of universal peace.” - -Before anybody knew what he was doing, he had whirled his flambeau in a -flaming wheel round his head and sent it flying like a meteor out into -the dim eddies of the river. - -The next moment a short, sharp cry was uttered, and every face in that -crowd was staring at the river. All the faces were visibly staring, for -they were all lit up as by a ghastly firelight by a wide wan unnatural -flame that leapt up from the very surface of the stream; a flame that -the crowd watched as it might have watched a comet. - -“There,” cried Owen Hood, turning suddenly on the girl and seizing -her arm, as if demanding congratulations. “So much for old Crane’s -prophecy!” - -“Who in the world is Old Crane?” she asked, “and what did he prophesy? -Is he something like Old Moore?” - -“Only an old friend,” said Hood hastily, “only an old friend of mine. -It’s what he said that’s so important. He didn’t like my moping about -with books and a fishing-rod, and he said, standing on that very -island, ‘You may know a lot; but I don’t think you’ll ever set the -Thames on fire. I’ll eat my hat if you do.’” - -But the story of how old Crane ate his hat is one upon which some -readers at least can now look back as on labour and suffering bravely -endured. And if it be possible for any of them to desire to know any -more either about Mr. Crane or Mr. Hood, then must they gird themselves -for the ordeal of reading the story of The Unobtrusive Traffic of -Captain Pierce, and their trials are for a time deferred. - - - - -III - -THE UNOBTRUSIVE TRAFFIC OF CAPTAIN PIERCE - - - - -III - -THE UNOBTRUSIVE TRAFFIC OF CAPTAIN PIERCE - - -Those acquainted with Colonel Crane and Mr. Owen Hood, the lawyer, may -or may not be concerned to know that they partook of an early lunch -of eggs and bacon and beer at the inn called the Blue Boar, which -stands at the turn of a steep road scaling a wooded ridge in the West -Country. Those unacquainted with them may be content to know that the -Colonel was a sunburnt, neatly-dressed gentleman, who looked taciturn -and was; while the lawyer was a more rusty red-haired gentleman with -a long Napoleonic face, who looked taciturn and was rather talkative. -Crane was fond of good cooking; and the cooking in that secluded inn -was better than that of a Soho restaurant and immeasurably better than -that of a fashionable restaurant. Hood was fond of the legends and -less-known aspects of the English countryside; and that valley had -a quality of repose with a stir of refreshment, as if the west wind -had been snared in it and tamed into a summer air. Both had a healthy -admiration for beauty, in ladies as well as landscapes; although (or -more probably because) both were quite romantically attached to the -wives they had married under rather romantic circumstances, which are -related elsewhere for such as can wrestle with so steep a narrative. -And the girl who waited on them, the daughter of the innkeeper, was -herself a very agreeable thing to look at; she was of a slim and quiet -sort with a head that moved like a brown bird, brightly and as it -were unexpectedly. Her manners were full of unconscious dignity, for -her father, old John Hardy, was the type of old innkeeper who had the -status, if not of a gentleman, at least of a yeoman. He was not without -education and ability; a grizzled man with a keen, stubborn face that -might have belonged to Cobbett, whose _Register_ he still read on -winters’ nights. Hardy was well known to Hood, who had the same sort of -antiquarian taste in revolutions. - -There was little sound in the valley or the brilliant void of sky; -the notes of birds fell only intermittently; a faint sound of tapping -came from the hills opposite where the wooded slope was broken here -and there by the bare face of a quarry, and a distant aeroplane passed -and re-passed, leaving a trail of faint thunder. The two men at lunch -took no more notice of it than if it had been a buzzing fly; but an -attentive study of the girl might have suggested that she was at least -conscious of the fly. Occasionally she looked at it, when no one was -looking at her; for the rest, she had rather a marked appearance of -not looking at it. - -“Good bacon you get here,” remarked Colonel Crane. - -“The best in England, and in the matter of breakfast England is the -Earthly Paradise,” replied Hood readily. “I can’t think why we should -descend to boast of the British Empire when we have bacon and eggs to -boast of. They ought to be quartered on the Royal Arms: three pigs -passant and three poached eggs on a chevron. It was bacon and eggs that -gave all that morning glory to the great English poets; it must have -been a man who had a breakfast like this who could rise with that giant -gesture: ‘Night’s candles are burnt out; and jocund day----’” - -“Bacon did write Shakespeare, in fact,” said the Colonel. - -“This sort of bacon did,” answered the other laughing; then, noticing -the girl within earshot, he added: “We are saying how good your bacon -is, Miss Hardy.” - -“It is supposed to be very good,” she said with legitimate pride, “but -I am afraid you won’t get much more of it. People aren’t going to be -allowed to keep pigs much longer.” - -“Not allowed to keep pigs!” ejaculated the Colonel in astonishment. - -“By the old regulations they had to be away from the house, and we’ve -got ground enough for that, though most of the cottagers hadn’t. But -now they say the law is evaded, and the county council are going to -stop pig-keeping altogether.” - -“Silly swine,” snorted the Colonel. - -“The epithet is ill-chosen,” replied Hood. “Men are lower than swine -when they do not appreciate swine. But really I don’t know what the -world’s coming to. What will the next generation be like without proper -pork? And, talking about the next generation, what has become of your -young friend Pierce? He said he was coming down, but he can’t have come -by that train.” - -“I think Captain Pierce is up there, sir,” said Joan Hardy in a correct -voice, as she unobtrusively withdrew. - -Her tone might have indicated that the gentleman was upstairs, but her -momentary glance had been towards the blue emptiness of the sky. Long -after she was gone, Owen Hood remained staring up into it, until he saw -the aeroplane darting and wheeling like a swallow. - -“Is that Hilary Pierce up there?” he inquired, “looping the loop and -playing the lunatic generally. What the devil is he doing?” - -“Showing off,” said the Colonel shortly, and drained his pewter mug. - -“But why should he show off to us?” asked Hood. - -“He jolly well wouldn’t,” replied the Colonel. “Showing off to the -girl, of course.” Then after a pause he added: “A very nice girl.” - -“A very good girl,” said Owen Hood gravely. “If there’s anything going -on, you may be sure it’s all straight and serious.” - -The Colonel blinked a little. “Well, times change,” he said. “I suppose -I’m old-fashioned myself; but speaking as an old Tory, I must confess -he might do worse.” - -“Yes,” replied Hood, “and speaking as an old Radical, I should say he -could hardly do better.” - -While they were speaking the erratic aviator had eventually swept -earthwards towards a flat field at the foot of the slope, and was now -coming towards them. Hilary Pierce had rather the look of a poet than -a professional aviator; and though he had distinguished himself in the -war, he was very probably one of those whose natural dream was rather -of conquering the air than conquering the enemy. His yellow hair was -longer and more untidy than when he was in the army; and there was a -touch of something irresponsible in his roving blue eye. He had a vein -of pugnacity in him, however, as was soon apparent. He had paused to -speak to Joan Hardy by the rather tumble-down pig-sty in the corner, -and when he came towards the breakfast-table he seemed transfigured as -with flame. - -“What’s all this infernal insane foolery?” he demanded. “Who has the -damned impudence to tell the Hardys they mustn’t keep pigs? Look here, -the time is come when we must burst up all this sort of thing. I’m -going to do something desperate.” - -“You’ve been doing desperate things enough for this morning,” said -Hood. “I advise you to take a little desperate luncheon. Do sit down, -there’s a good fellow, and don’t stamp about like that.” - -“No, but look here----” - -Pierce was interrupted by Joan Hardy, who appeared quietly at his elbow -and said demurely to the company: “There’s a gentleman here who asks if -he may be pardoned for speaking to you.” - -The gentleman in question stood some little way behind in a posture -that was polite but so stiff and motionless as almost to affect the -nerves. He was clad in so complete and correct a version of English -light holiday attire that they felt quite certain he was a foreigner. -But their imaginations ranged the Continent in vain in the attempt -to imagine what sort of foreigner. By the immobility of his almost -moonlike face, with its faintly bilious tinge, he might almost have -been a Chinaman. But when he spoke, they could instantly locate the -alien accent. - -“Very much distressed to butt in, gentlemen,” he said, “but this young -lady allows you are first-class academic authorities on the sights of -this locality. I’ve been mouching around trying to hit the trail of an -antiquity or two, but I don’t seem to know the way to pick it up. If -you’d be so kind as to put me wise about the principal architectural -styles and historic items of this section, I’d be under a great -obligation.” - -As they were a little slow in recovering from their first surprise, he -added patiently: - -“My name is Enoch B. Oates, and I’m pretty well known in Michigan, but -I’ve bought a little place near here; I’ve looked about this little -planet and I’ve come to think the safest and brightest place for a man -with a few dollars is the place of a squire in your fine old feudal -landscape. So the sooner I’m introduced to the more mellow mediæval -buildings the better.” - -In Hilary Pierce the astonishment had given place to an ardour -bordering on ecstasy. - -“Mediæval buildings! Architectural styles!” he cried enthusiastically. -“You’ve come to the right shop, Mr. Oates. I’ll show you an ancient -building, a sacred building, in an architectural style of such sublime -antiquity that you’ll want to cart it all away to Michigan, as they -tried to do with Glastonbury Abbey. You shall be privileged to see one -historic institution before you die or before all history is forgotten.” - -He was walking towards the corner of the little kitchen-garden attached -to the inn, waving his arms with wild gestures of encouragement; and -the American was following him with the same stiff politeness, looking -weirdly like an automaton. - -“Look on our architectural style before it perishes,” cried Pierce -dramatically, pointing to the pig-sty, which looked a rather ramshackle -affair of leaning and broken boards hung loosely together, though in -practice it was practical enough. “This, the most unmistakably mellow -of all mediæval buildings, may soon be only a memory. But when this -edifice falls England will fall, and the world will shake with the -shock of doom.” - -The American had what he himself might have described as a poker face; -it was impossible to discover whether his utterances indicated the -extreme of innocence or of irony. - -“And would you say,” he asked, “that this monument exemplifies the -mediæval or Gothic architectural school?” - -“I should hardly call it strictly Perpendicular,” answered Pierce, “but -there is no doubt that it is Early English.” - -“You would say it is antique, anyhow?” observed Mr. Oates. - -“I have every reason to believe,” affirmed Pierce solemnly, “that Gurth -the Swineherd made use of this identical building. I have no doubt it -is in fact far older. The best authorities believe that the Prodigal -Son stayed here for some time, and the pigs--those noble and much -maligned animals--gave him such excellent advice that he returned to -his family. And now, Mr. Oates, they say that all that magnificent -heritage is to be swept away. But it shall not be. We shall not so -easily submit to all the vandals and vulgar tyrants who would thus tear -down our temples and our holy places. The pig-sty shall rise again in a -magnificent resurrection--larger pig-stys, loftier pig-stys, shall yet -cover the land; the towers and domes and spires of statelier and more -ideal pig-stys, in the most striking architectural styles, shall again -declare the victory of the holy hog over his unholy oppressors.” - -“And meanwhile,” said Colonel Crane drily, “I think Mr. Oates had -much better begin with the church down by the river. Very fine Norman -foundations and traces of the Roman brick. The vicar understands his -church, too, and would give Mr. Oates rather more reliable information -than you do.” - -A little while later, when Mr. Oates had passed on his way, the Colonel -curtly reproved his young friend. - -“Bad form,” he said, “making fun of a foreigner asking for information.” - -But Pierce turned on him with the same heat on his face. - -“But I wasn’t making fun. I was quite serious.” - -They stared at him steadily, and he laughed slightly but went on with -undiminished fire. - -“Symbolical perhaps but serious,” he said. “I may seem to have been -talking a bit wildly, but let me tell you the time has come to be wild. -We’ve all been a lot too tame. I do mean, as much as I ever meant -anything, to fight for the resurrection and the return of the pig; and -he shall yet return as a wild boar that will rend the hunters.” - -He looked up and his eye caught the blue heraldic shape on the -sign-board of the inn. - -“And there is our wooden ensign!” he cried, pointing in the same -dramatic fashion. “We will go into battle under the banner of the Blue -Boar.” - -“Loud and prolonged cheers,” said Crane politely, “and now come away -and don’t spoil the peroration. Owen wants to potter about the local -antiquities, like Mr. Oates. I’m more interested in novelties. Want to -look at that machine of yours.” - -They began to descend the zig-zag pebbled path fenced and embanked with -hedges and flower-beds like a garden grown on a staircase, and at every -corner Hood had to remonstrate with the loitering youth. - -“Don’t be for ever gazing back on the paradise of pigs,” he said, “or -you’ll be turned to a pillar of salt, or possibly of mustard as more -appropriate to such meat. They won’t run away yet. There are other -creatures formed by the Creator for the contemplation of man; there are -other things made by man after the pattern of the creatures, from the -great White Horses of Wessex to that great white bird on which you -yourself flew among the birds. Fine subject for a poem of the first and -last things.” - -“Bird that lays rather dreadful eggs,” said Crane. “In the next war---- -Why, where the deuce has he gone?” - -“Pigs, pigs,” said Hood sadly. “The overpowering charm which pigs -exercise upon us at a certain time of life; when we hear their trotters -in our dreams and their little curly tails twine about us like the -tendrils of the vine----” - -“Oh, bosh,” said the Colonel. - -For indeed Mr. Hilary Pierce had vanished in a somewhat startling -manner, ducking under the corner of a hedge and darting up a steeper -path, over a gate and across the corner of a hayfield, where a final -bound through bursting bushes brought him on top of a low wall looking -down at the pig-sty and Miss Joan Hardy, who was calmly walking away -from it. He sprang down on to the path; the morning sun picked out -everything in clear colours like a child’s toy-book; and standing -with his hands spread out and his wisps of yellow hair brushed in -all directions by the bushes, he recalled an undignified memory of -Shock-Headed Peter. - -“I felt I must speak to you before I went,” he said. “I’m going -away, not exactly on active service, but on business--on very active -business. I feel like the fellows did when they went to the war ... -and what they wanted to do first.... I am aware that a proposal over -a pig-sty is not so symbolical to some as to me, but really and truly -... I don’t know whether I mentioned it, but you may be aware that I -worship you.” - -Joan Hardy was quite aware of it; but the conventionalities in her case -were like concentric castle-walls; the world-old conventions of the -countryside. There was in them the stiff beauty of old country dances -and the slow and delicate needlework of a peasantry. Of all the ladies -whose figures must be faintly traced in the tapestry of these frivolous -tales of chivalry, the most reticent and dignified was the one who was -not in the worldly sense a lady at all. - -She stood looking at him in silence, and he at her; as the lift of her -head had some general suggestion of a bird, the line of her profile had -a delicate suggestion of a falcon, and her face was of the fine tint -that has no name, unless we could talk of a bright brown. - -“Really, you seem in a terrible hurry,” she said. “I don’t want to be -talked to in a rush like this.” - -“I apologize,” he said. “I can’t help being in a rush, but I didn’t -want you to be in a rush. I only wanted you to know. I haven’t done -anything to deserve you, but I am going to try. I’m going off to work; -I feel sure you believe in quiet steady work for a young man.” - -“Are you going into the bank?” she asked innocently. “You said your -uncle was in a bank.” - -“I hope all my conversation was not on that level,” he replied. And -indeed he would have been surprised if he had known how exactly she -remembered all such dull details he had ever mentioned about himself, -and how little she knew in comparison about his theories and fancies, -which he thought so much more important. - -“Well,” he said with engaging frankness, “it would be an exaggeration -to say I am going into a bank; though of course there are banks and -banks. Why, I know a bank whereon the wild thyme--I beg your pardon, -I mean I know a lot of more rural and romantic occupations that are -really quite as safe as the bank. The truth is, I think of going into -the bacon trade. I think I see an opening for a brisk young man in the -ham and pork business. When you see me next I shall be travelling in -pork; an impenetrable disguise.” - -“You mustn’t come here, then,” she answered. “It won’t be allowed here -by that time. The neighbours would----” - -“Fear not,” he said, “I should be a commercial traveller. Oh, such a -very commercial traveller. And as for not coming here, the thing seems -quite unthinkable. You must at least let me write to you every hour or -so. You must let me send you a few presents every morning.” - -“I’m sure my father wouldn’t like you to send me presents,” she said -gravely. - -“Ask your father to wait,” said Pierce earnestly. “Ask him to wait till -he’s seen the presents. You see, mine will be rather curious presents. -I don’t think he’ll disapprove of them. I think he’ll approve of them. -I think he’ll congratulate me on my simple tastes and sound business -principles. The truth is, dear Joan, I’ve committed myself to a rather -important enterprise. You needn’t be frightened; I promise I won’t -trouble you again till it succeeds. I will be content that you know it -is for you I do it; and shall continue to do it, if I defy the world.” -He sprang up on the wall again and stood there staring down at her -almost indignantly. - -“That anybody should forbid _you_ to keep pigs,” he cried. “That -anybody should forbid _you_ to do anything. That anybody should -dispute _your_ right to keep pet crocodiles if you like! That is the -unpardonable sin; that is the supreme blasphemy and crime against the -nature of things, which shall not go unavenged. You shall have pigs, I -say, if the skies fall and the whole world is whelmed in war.” - -He disappeared like a flash behind the high bank and the wall, and Joan -went back in silence to the inn. - -The first incident of the war did not seem superficially encouraging, -though the hero of it seemed by no means discouraged by it. As -reported in the police news of various papers, Hilary Patrick Pierce, -formerly of the Flying Corps, was arrested for driving pigs into the -county of Bluntshire, in contravention of the regulations made for the -public health. He seemed to have had almost as much trouble with the -pigs as with the police; but he made a witty and eloquent speech on -being arrested, to which the police and the pigs appeared to be equally -unresponsive. The incident was considered trivial and his punishment -was trifling; but the occasion was valued by some of the authorities as -giving an opportunity for the final elucidation and establishment of -the new rule. - -For this purpose it was fortunate that the principal magistrate of the -bench was no less a person than the celebrated hygienist, Sir Horace -Hunter, O.B.E., M.D., who had begun life, as some may remember, as -a successful suburban doctor and had likewise distinguished himself -as an officer of health in the Thames Valley. To him indeed had been -largely due the logical extension of the existing precautions against -infection from the pig; though he was fully supported by his fellow -magistrates, one being Mr. Rosenbaum Low, millionaire and formerly -manager of Bliss and Co., and the other the young Socialist, Mr. Amyas -Minns, famous for his exposition of Shaw on the Simple Life, who sat on -the bench as a Labour alderman. All concurred in the argument of Sir -Horace, that just as all the difficulties and doubtful cases raised by -the practice of moderate drinking had been simplified by the solution -of Prohibition, so the various quarrels and evasions about swine-fever -were best met by a straightforward and simple regulation against swine. -In the very improper remarks which he offered after the trial, the -prisoner appears to have said that as his three judges were a Jew, a -vegetarian and a quack doctor on the make, he was not surprised that -they did not appreciate pork. - -The next luncheon at which the three friends met was in a sufficiently -different setting; for the Colonel had invited the other two to his -club in London. It would have been almost impossible to have been that -sort of Colonel without having that sort of club. But as a matter of -fact, he very seldom went there. On this occasion it was Owen Hood who -arrived first and was by instructions escorted by a waiter to a table -in a bow window overlooking the Green Park. Knowing Crane’s military -punctuality, Hood fancied that he might have mistaken the time; and -while looking for the note of invitation in his pocket-book, he paused -for a moment upon a newspaper cutting that he had put aside as a -curiosity some days before. It was a paragraph headed “Old Ladies as -Mad Motorists,” and ran as follows: - - “An unprecedented number of cases of motorists exceeding the speed - limit have lately occurred on the Bath Road and other western - highways. The extraordinary feature of the case is that in so large a - number of cases the offenders appeared to be old ladies of great - wealth and respectability who professed to be merely taking their pugs - and other pet animals for an airing. They professed that the health of - the animal required much more rapid transit through the air than is - the case with human beings.” - -He was gazing at this extract with as much perplexity as on his first -perusal, when the Colonel entered with a newspaper in his hand. - -“I say,” he said, “I think it is getting rather ridiculous. I’m not -a revolutionist like you; quite the reverse. But all these rules and -regulations are getting beyond all rational discipline. A little while -ago they started forbidding all travelling menageries; not, mind you, -stipulating for proper conditions for the animals, but forbidding them -altogether for some nonsense about the safety of the public. There -was a travelling circus stopped near Acton and another on the road to -Reading. Crowds of village boys must never see a lion in their lives, -because once in fifty years a lion has escaped and been caught again. -But that’s nothing to what has happened since. Now, if you please, -there is such mortal fear of infection that we are to leave the sick -to suffer, just as if we were savages. You know those new hospital -trains that were started to take patients from the hospitals down to -the health resorts. Well, they’re not to run after all, it seems, lest -by merely taking an invalid of any sort through the open country we -should poison the four winds of heaven. If this nonsense goes on, I -shall go as mad as Hilary himself.” - -Hilary Pierce had arrived during this conversation and sat listening to -it with a rather curious smile. Somehow the more Hood looked at that -smile the more it puzzled him; it puzzled him as much as the newspaper -cutting in his hand. He caught himself looking from one to the other, -and Pierce smiled in a still more irritating manner. - -“You don’t look so fierce and fanatical as when we last met, my young -friend,” observed Owen Hood. “Have you got tired of pigs and police -courts? These coercion acts the Colonel’s talking about would have -roused you to lift the roof off once.” - -“Oh, I’m all against the new rules,” answered the young man coolly. -“I’ve been very much against them; what you might call up against them. -In fact, I’ve already broken all those new laws and a few more. Could -you let me look at that cutting for a moment?” - -Hood handed it to him and he nodded, saying: - -“Yes; I was arrested for that.” - -“Arrested for what?” - -“Arrested for being a rich and respectable old lady,” answered Hilary -Pierce; “but I managed to escape that time. It was a fine sight to see -the old lady clear a hedge and skedaddle across a meadow.” - -Hood looked at him under bended brows and his mouth began to work. - -“But what’s all this about the old lady having a pug or a pet or -something?” - -“Well, it was very nearly a pug,” said Pierce in a dispassionate -manner. “I pointed out to everybody that it was, as it were, an -approximate pug. I asked if it was just to punish me for a small -mistake in spelling.” - -“I begin to understand,” said Hood. “You were again smuggling swine -down to your precious Blue Boar, and thought you could rush the -frontier in very rapid cars.” - -“Yes,” replied the smuggler placidly. “We were quite literally -Road-Hogs. I thought at first of dressing the pigs up as millionaires -and members of Parliament; but when you come to look close, there’s -more difference than you would imagine to be possible. It was great fun -when they forced me to take my pet out of the wrapping of shawls, and -they found what a large pet it was.” - -“And do I understand,” cut in the Colonel, “that it was something like -that--with the other laws?” - -“The other laws,” said Pierce, “are certainly arbitrary, but perhaps -you do not altogether do them justice. You do not quite appreciate -their motive. You do not fully allow for their origin. I may say, I -trust with all modesty, that I was their origin. I not only had the -pleasure of breaking those laws, but the pleasure of making them.” - -“More of your tricks, you mean,” said the Colonel; “but why don’t the -papers say so?” - -“The authorities don’t want ’em to,” answered Pierce. “The authorities -won’t advertise me, you bet. I’ve got far too much popular backing for -that. When the real revolution happens, it won’t be mentioned in the -newspapers.” - -He paused a moment in meditation and then went on. - -“When the police searched for my pug and found it was a pig, I started -wondering how they could best be stopped from doing it again. It -occurred to me they might be shy of a wild pig or a pug that bit them. -So, of course, I travelled the next time with dreadfully dangerous -animals in cages, warning everybody of the fiercest tigers and panthers -that ever were known. When they found it out and didn’t want to let it -out, they could only fall back on their own tomfoolery of a prohibition -wholesale. Of course, it was the same with my other stunt, about the -sick people going to health resorts to be cured of various fashionable -and refined maladies. The pigs had a dignified, possibly a rather -dull time, in elaborately curtained railway carriages with hospital -nurses to wait on them; while I stood outside and assured the railway -officials that the cure was a rest cure, and the invalids must on no -account be disturbed.” - -“What a liar you are!” exclaimed Hood in simple admiration. - -“Not at all,” said Pierce with dignity. “It was quite true that they -were going to be cured.” - -Crane, who had been gazing rather abstractedly out of the window, -slowly turned his head and said abruptly: “And how’s it going to end? -Do you propose to go on doing all these impossible things?” - -Pierce sprang to his feet with a resurrection of all the romantic -abandon of his vow over the pig-sty. - -“Impossible!” he cried. “You don’t know what you’re saying or how true -it is. All I’ve done so far was possible and prosaic. But I will do an -impossible thing. I will do something that is written in all books and -rhymes as impossible--something that has passed into a proverb of the -impossible. The war is not ended yet; and if you two fellows will post -yourselves in the quarry opposite the Blue Boar, on Thursday week at -sunset, you will see something so impossible and so self-evident that -even the organs of public information will find it hard to hide it.” - -It was in that part of the steep fall of pine-wood where the quarry -made a sort of ledge under a roof of pine that two gentlemen of -something more than middle age who had not altogether lost the appetite -of adventure posted themselves with all the preparations due to a -picnic or a practical joke. It was from that place, as from a window -looking across the valley, that they saw what seemed more like a -vision; what seemed indeed rather like the parody of an apocalypse. The -large clearance of the western sky was of a luminous lemon tint, as of -pale yellow fading to pale green, while one or two loose clouds on the -horizon were of a rose-red and yet richer colours. But the setting sun -itself was a cloudless fire, so that a tawny light lay over the whole -landscape; and the inn of the Blue Boar standing opposite looked almost -like a house of gold. Owen Hood was gazing in his dreamy fashion, and -said at last: - -“There’s an apocalyptic sign in heaven for you to start with. It’s a -queer thing, but that cloud coming up the valley is uncommonly like the -shape of a pig.” - -“Very like a whale,” said Colonel Crane, yawning slightly; but when -he turned his eyes in that direction, the eyes were keener. Artists -have remarked that a cloud has perspective like anything else; but the -perspective of the cloud coming up the valley was curiously solid. - -“That’s not a cloud,” he said sharply, “it’s a Zeppelin or something.” - -The solid shape grew larger and larger; and as it grew more obvious it -grew more incredible. - -“Saints and angels!” cried Hood suddenly. “Why, it _is_ a pig!” - -“It’s shaped like a pig all right,” said the Colonel curtly; and -indeed as the great balloon-like form bulked bigger and bigger above -its own reflection in the winding river, they could see that the long -sausage-shaped Zeppelin body of it had been fantastically decorated -with hanging ears and legs, to complete that pantomimic resemblance. - -“I suppose it’s some more of Hilary’s skylarking,” observed Hood; “but -what is he up to now?” - -As the great aërial monster moved up the valley it paused over the inn -of the Blue Boar, and something fell fluttering from it like a brightly -coloured feather. - -“People are coming down in parachutes,” said the Colonel shortly. - -“They’re queer-looking people,” remarked his companion, peering under -frowning brows, for the level light was dazzling to the eyes. “By -George, they’re not people at all! They’re pigs!” - -From that distance, the objects in question had something of the -appearance of cherubs in some gaily coloured Gothic picture, with the -yellow sky for their gold-leaf background. The parachute apparatus -from which they hung and hovered was designed and coloured with the -appearance of a great wheel of gorgeously painted plumage, looking -more gaudy than ever in the strong evening light that lay over all. The -more the two men in the quarry stared at these strange objects, the -more certain it seemed that they were indeed pigs; though whether the -pigs were dead or alive it was impossible at that distance to say. They -looked down into the garden of the inn into which the feathered things -were dropping, and they could see the figure of Joan Hardy standing in -front of the old pig-sty, with her bird-like head lifted, looking up -into the sky. - -“Singular present for a young lady,” remarked Crane, “but I suppose -when our mad young friend does start love-making, he would be likely to -give impossible presents.” - -The eyes of the more poetical Hood were full of larger visions, and he -hardly seemed to be listening. But as the sentence ended he seemed to -start from a trance and struck his hands together. - -“Yes!” he cried in a new voice, “we always come back to that word!” - -“Come back to what word?” asked his friend. - -“‘Impossible,’” answered Owen Hood. “It’s the word that runs through -his whole life, and ours too for that matter. Don’t you see what he has -done?” - -“I see what he has done all right,” answered the Colonel, “but I’m not -at all sure I see what you are driving at.” - -“What we have seen is another impossible thing,” said Owen Hood; “a -thing that common speech has set up as a challenge; a thing that a -thousand rhymes and jokes and phrases have called impossible. We have -seen pigs fly.” - -“It’s pretty extraordinary,” admitted Crane, “but it’s not so -extraordinary as their not being allowed to walk.” - -And they gathered their travelling tackle together and began to descend -the steep hill. - -In doing so, they descended into a deeper twilight between the stems of -the darkling trees; the walls of the valley began to close over them, -as it were, and they lost that sense of being in the upper air in a -radiant topsy-turvydom of clouds. It was almost as if they had really -had a vision; and the voice of Crane came abruptly out of the dusk, -almost like that of a doubter when he speaks of a dream. - -“The thing I can’t understand,” he said abruptly, “is how Hilary -managed to _do_ all that by himself.” - -“He really is a very wonderful fellow,” said Hood. “You told me -yourself he did wonders in the War. And though he turns it to these -fanatical ends now, it takes as much trouble to do one as the other.” - -“Takes a devilish lot more trouble to do it alone,” said Crane. “In the -War there was a whole organization.” - -“You mean he must be more than a remarkable person,” suggested Hood, “a -sort of giant with a hundred hands or god with a hundred eyes. Well, a -man will work frightfully hard when he wants something very much; even -a man who generally looks like a lounging minor poet. And I think I -know what it was he wanted. He deserves to get it. It’s certainly his -hour of triumph.” - -“Mystery to me, all the same,” said the Colonel frowning. “Wonder -whether he’ll ever clear it up.” But that part of the mystery was not -to be cleared up until many other curious things had come to pass. - -Away on another part of the slope Hilary Pierce, new lighted on the -earth like the herald Mercury, leapt down into a red hollow of the -quarry and came towards Joan Hardy with uplifted arms. - -“This is no time for false modesty,” he said. “It is the hour, and I -come to you covered with glory----” - -“You come covered with mud,” she said smiling, “and it’s that horrible -red mud that takes so long to dry. It’s no use trying to brush it -till----” - -“I bring you the Golden Fleece, or at any rate the Golden Pig-Skin,” he -cried in lyric ecstasy. “I have endured the labours; I have achieved -the quest. I have made the Hampshire Hog as legendary as the Calydonian -Boar. They forbade me to drive it on foot, and I drove it in a car, -disguised as a pug. They forbade me to bring it in a car, and I brought -it in a railway-train, disguised as an invalid. They forbade me to use -a railway-train, and I took the wings of the morning and rose to the -uttermost parts of the air; by a way secret and pathless and lonely as -the wilful way of love. I have made my romance immortal. I have written -your name upon the sky. What do you say to me now? I have turned a Pig -into a Pegasus. I have done impossible things.” - -“I know you have,” she said, “but somehow I can’t help liking you for -all that.” - -“_But_ you can’t help liking me,” he repeated in a hollow voice. -“I have stormed heaven, but still I am not so bad. Hercules can be -tolerated in spite of his Twelve Labours. St. George can be forgiven -for killing the Dragon. Woman, is this the way I am treated in the hour -of victory; and is this the graceful fashion of an older world? Have -you become a New Woman, by any chance? What has your father been doing? -What does he say--about us?” - -“My father says you are quite mad, of course,” she replied, “but he -can’t help liking you either. He says he doesn’t believe in people -marrying out of their class; but that if I must marry a gentleman he’d -rather it was somebody like you, and not one of the new gentlemen.” - -“Well, I’m glad I’m an old gentleman, anyhow,” he answered somewhat -mollified. “But really this prevalence of common sense is getting quite -dangerous. Will nothing rouse you all to a little unreality; to saying, -so to speak, ‘O, for the wings of a pig that I might flee away and be -at rest.’ What would you say if I turned the world upside-down and set -my foot upon the sun and moon?” - -“I should say,” replied Joan Hardy, still smiling, “that you wanted -somebody to look after you.” - -He stared at her for a moment in an almost abstracted fashion as -if he had not fully understood; then he laughed quite suddenly and -uncontrollably, like a man who has seen something very close to him -that he knows he is a fool not to have seen before. So a man will fall -over something in a game of hiding-and-seeking, and get up shaken with -laughter. - -“What a bump your mother earth gives you when you fall out of an -aeroplane,” he said, “especially when your flying ship is only a -flying pig. The earth of the real peasants and the real pigs--don’t be -offended; I assure you the confusion is a compliment. What a thing is -horse-sense, and how much finer really than the poetry of Pegasus! And -when there is everything else as well that makes the sky clean and the -earth kind, beauty and bravery and the lifting of the head--well, you -are right enough, Joan. Will you take care of me? Will you stop at home -and clip my pig’s wings?” - -He had caught hold of her by the hands; but she still laughed as she -answered: - -“Yes--I told you I couldn’t help--but you must really let go, Hilary. -I can see your friends coming down from the quarry.” - -As she spoke, indeed, Colonel Crane and Owen Hood could be seen -descending the slope and passing through a screen of slender trees -towards them. - -“Hullo!” said Hilary Pierce cheerfully. “I want you to congratulate -me. Joan thinks I’m an awful humbug, and right she is; I am what has -been called a happy hypocrite. At least you fellows may think I’ve been -guilty of a bit of a fake in this last affair, when I tell you the -news. Well, I will confess.” - -“What news do you mean?” inquired the Colonel with curiosity. - -Hilary Pierce grinned and made a gesture over his shoulder to the -litter of porcine parachutes, to indicate his last and crowning folly. - -“The truth is,” he said laughing, “that was only a final firework -display to celebrate victory or failure, whichever you choose to call -it. There isn’t any need to do any more, because the veto is removed.” - -“Removed?” exclaimed Hood. “Why on earth is that? It’s rather unnerving -when lunatics suddenly go sane like that.” - -“It wasn’t anything to do with the lunatics,” answered Pierce quietly. -“The real change was much higher up, or rather lower down. Anyhow, it -was much farther at the back of things, where the Big Businesses are -settled by the big people.” - -“What was the change?” asked the Colonel. - -“Old Oates has gone into another business,” answered Pierce quietly. - -“What on earth has old Oates to do with it?” asked Hood staring. “Do -you mean that Yankee mooning about over mediæval ruins?” - -“Oh, I know,” said Pierce wearily, “I thought he had nothing to do -with it; I thought it was the Jews and vegetarians, and the rest; but -they’re very innocent instruments. The truth is that Enoch Oates is the -biggest pork-packer and importer in the world, and _he_ didn’t want -any competition from our cottagers. And what he says goes, as he would -express it. Now, thank God, he’s taken up another line.” - - * * * * * - -But if any indomitable reader wishes to know what was the new line -Mr. Oates pursued and why, it is to be feared that his only course -is to await and read patiently the story of the Exclusive Luxury of -Enoch Oates; and even before reaching that supreme test, he will have -to support the recital of The Elusive Companion of Parson White; for -these, as has been said, are tales of topsy-turvydom, and they often -work backwards. - - - - -IV - -THE ELUSIVE COMPANION OF PARSON WHITE - - - - -IV - -THE ELUSIVE COMPANION OF PARSON WHITE - - -In the scriptures and the chronicles of the League of the Long Bow, or -fellowship of foolish persons doing impossible things, it is recorded -that Owen Hood, the lawyer, and his friend Crane, the retired Colonel, -were partaking one afternoon of a sort of picnic on the river-island -that had been the first scene of a certain romantic incident in the -life of the former, the burden of reading about which has fallen upon -other readers in other days. Suffice it to say that the island had been -devoted by Mr. Hood to his hobby of angling, and that the meal then -in progress was a somewhat early interruption of the same leisurely -pursuit. The two old cronies had a third companion, who, though -considerably younger, was not only a companion but a friend. He was a -light-haired, lively young man, with rather a wild eye, known by the -name of Pierce, whose wedding to the daughter of the innkeeper of the -Blue Boar the others had only recently attended. - -He was an aviator and given to many other forms of skylarking. The two -older men had eccentric tastes of their own; but there is always a -difference between the eccentricity of an elderly man who defies the -world and the enthusiasm of a younger man who hopes to alter it. The -old gentleman may be willing, in a sense, to stand on his head; but he -does not hope, as the boy does, to stand the world on its head. With -a young man like Hilary Pierce it was the world itself that was to be -turned upside-down; and that was a game at which his more grizzled -companions could only look on, as at a child they loved playing with a -big coloured balloon. - -Perhaps it was this sense of a division by time, altering the tone, -though not the fact, of friendship, which sent the mind of one of the -older men back to the memory of an older friend. He remembered he had -had a letter that morning from the only contemporary of his who could -fitly have made a fourth to their party. Owen Hood drew the letter from -his pocket with a smile that wrinkled his long, humorous, cadaverous -face. - -“By the way, I forgot to tell you,” he said, “I had a letter from White -yesterday.” - -The bronzed visage of the Colonel was also seamed with the external -signs of a soundless chuckle. - -“Read it yet?” he asked. - -“Yes,” replied the lawyer; “the hieroglyphic was attacked with fresh -vigour after breakfast this morning, and the clouds and mysteries of -yesterday’s laborious hours seemed to be rolled away. Some portions of -the cuneiform still await an expert translation; but the sentences -themselves appear to be in the original English.” - -“Very original English,” snorted Colonel Crane. - -“Yes, our friend is an original character,” replied Hood. “Vanity -tempts me to hint that he is our friend because he has an original -taste in friends. That habit of his of putting the pronoun on the first -page and the noun on the next has brightened many winter evenings for -me. You haven’t met our friend White, have you?” he added to Pierce. -“That is a shock that still threatens you.” - -“Why, what’s the matter with him?” inquired Pierce. - -“Nothing,” observed Crane in his more staccato style. “Has a taste for -starting a letter with ‘Yours Truly’ and ending it with ‘Dear Sir’; -that’s all.” - -“I should rather like to hear that letter,” observed the young man. - -“So you shall,” answered Hood, “there’s nothing confidential in it; -and if there were, you wouldn’t find it out merely by reading it. The -Rev. Wilding White, called by some of his critics ‘Wild White,’ is -one of those country parsons, to be found in corners of the English -countryside, of whom their old college friends usually think in order -to wonder what the devil their parishoners think of them. As a matter -of fact, my dear Hilary, he was rather like you when he was your age; -and what in the world you would be like as a vicar in the Church of -England, aged fifty, might at first stagger the imagination; but the -problem might be solved by supposing you would be like him. But I only -hope you will have a more lucid style in letter-writing. The old boy is -always in such a state of excitement about something that it comes out -anyhow.” - -It has been said elsewhere that these tales are, in some sense, of -necessity told tail-foremost, and certainly the letter of the Rev. -Wilding White was a document suited to such a scheme of narrative. It -was written in what had once been a good handwriting of the bolder -sort, but which had degenerated through excessive energy and haste into -an illegible scrawl. It appeared to run as follows: - - “‘My dear Owen,--My mind is quite made up; though I know the sort of - legal long-winded things you will say against it; I know especially - one thing a leathery old lawyer like you is bound to say; but as a - matter of fact even you can’t say it in a case like this, because the - timber came from the other end of the county and had nothing whatever - to do with him or any of his flunkeys and sycophants. Besides, I did - it all myself with a little assistance I’ll tell you about later; - and even in these days I should be surprised to hear _that_ sort of - assistance could be anything but a man’s own affair. I defy you and - all your parchments to maintain that _it_ comes under the Game Laws. - You won’t mind me talking like this; I know jolly well you’d think - you were acting as a friend; but I think the time has come to speak - plainly.’” - -“Quite right,” said the Colonel. - -“Yes,” said young Pierce, with a rather vague expression, “I’m glad he -feels that the time has come to speak plainly.” - -“Quite so,” observed the lawyer drily; “he continues as follows: - - “‘I’ve got a lot to tell you about the new arrangement, which works - much better even than I hoped. I was afraid at first it would really - be an encumbrance, as you know it’s always supposed to be. But there - are more things, and all the rest of it, and God fulfils himself, - and so on and so on. It gives one quite a weird Asiatic feeling - sometimes.’” - -“Yes,” said the Colonel, “it does.” - -“What does?” asked Pierce, sitting up suddenly, like one who can bear -no more. - -“You are not used to the epistolary method,” said Hood indulgently; -“you haven’t got into the swing of the style. It goes on: - - “‘Of course, he’s a big pot down here, and all sorts of skunks - are afraid of him and pretend to boycott me. Nobody could expect - anything else of those pineapple people, but I confess I was - surprised at Parkinson. Sally of course is as sound as ever; but she - goes to Scotland a good deal and you can’t blame her. Sometimes I’m - left pretty severely alone, but I’m not downhearted; you’ll probably - laugh if I tell you that Snowdrop is really a very intelligent - companion.’” - -“I confess I am long past laughter,” said Hilary Pierce sadly; “but I -rather wish I knew who Snowdrop is.” - -“Child, I suppose,” said the Colonel shortly. - -“Yes; I suppose it must be a child,” said Pierce. “Has he any children?” - -“No,” said the Colonel. “Bachelor.” - -“I believe he was in love with a lady in those parts and never married -in consequence,” said Hood. “It would be quite on the lines of fiction -and film-drama if Snowdrop were the daughter of the lady, when she had -married Another. But there seems to be something more about Snowdrop, -that little sunbeam in the house: - - “‘Snowdrop tries to enter into our ways, as they always do; but, - of course, it would be a little awkward if she played tricks. How - alarmed they would all be if she took it into her head to walk about - on two legs, like everybody else.’” - -“Nonsense!” ejaculated Colonel Crane. “Can’t be a child--talking about -it walking about on two legs.” - -“After all,” said Pierce thoughtfully, “a little girl does walk about -on two legs.” - -“Bit startling if she walked about on three,” said Crane. - -“If my learned brother will allow me,” said Hood, in his forensic -manner, “would he describe the fact of a little girl walking on two -legs as alarming?” - -“A little girl is always alarming,” replied Pierce. - -“I’ve come to the conclusion myself,” went on Hood, “that Snowdrop -must be a pony. It seems a likely enough name for a pony. I thought at -first it was a dog or a cat but alarming seems a strong word even for -a dog or a cat sitting up to beg. But a pony on its hind legs might be -a little alarming, especially when you’re riding it. Only I can’t fit -this view in with the next sentence: ‘I’ve taught her to reach down the -things I want.’” - -“Lord!” cried Pierce. “It’s a monkey!” - -“That,” replied Hood, “had occurred to me as possibly explaining the -weird Asiatic atmosphere. But a monkey on two legs is even less unusual -than a dog on two legs. Moreover, the reference to Asiatic mystery -seems really to refer to something else and not to any animal at all. -For he ends up by saying: ‘I feel now as if my mind were moving in much -larger and more ancient spaces of time or eternity; and as if what I -thought at first was an oriental atmosphere was only an atmosphere of -the orient in the sense of dayspring and the dawn. It has nothing to do -with the stagnant occultism of decayed Indian cults; it is something -that unites a real innocence with the immensities, a power as of the -mountains with the purity of snow. This vision does not violate my own -religion, but rather reinforces it; but I cannot help feeling that I -have larger views. I hope in two senses to preach liberty in these -parts. So I may live to falsify the proverb after all.’ - -“That,” added Hood, folding up the letter, “is the only sentence in the -whole thing that conveys anything to my mind. As it happens, we have -all three of us lived to falsify proverbs.” - -Hilary Pierce had risen to his feet with the restless action that went -best with his alert figure. “Yes,” he said; “I suppose we can all -three of us say we have lived for adventures, or had some curious ones -anyhow. And to tell you the truth, the adventure feeling has come on me -very strong this very minute. I’ve got the detective fever about that -parson of yours. I should like to get at the meaning of that letter, as -if it were a cipher about buried treasure.” - -Then he added more gravely: “And if, as I gather, your clerical friend -is really a friend worth having, I do seriously advise you to keep an -eye on him just now. Writing letters upside-down is all very well, -and I shouldn’t be alarmed about that. Lots of people think they’ve -explained things in previous letters they never wrote. I don’t think -it matters who Snowdrop is, or what sort of children or animals he -chooses to be fond of. That’s all being eccentric in the good old -English fashion, like poetical tinkers and mad squires. You’re both of -you eccentric in that sort of way, and it’s one of the things I like -about you. But just because I naturally knock about more among the new -people, I see something of the new eccentricities. And believe me, -they’re not half so nice as the old ones. I’m a student of scientific -aviation, which is a new thing itself, and I like it. But there’s a -sort of spiritual aviation that I don’t like at all.” - -“Sorry,” observed Crane. “Really no notion of what you’re talking -about.” - -“Of course you haven’t,” answered Pierce with engaging candour; “that’s -another thing I like about you. But I don’t like the way your clerical -friend talks about new visions and larger religions and light and -liberty from the East. I’ve heard a good many people talk like that, -and they were mountebanks or the dupes of mountebanks. And I’ll tell -you another thing. It’s a long shot even with the long bow we used to -talk about. It’s a pretty wild guess even in this rather wild business. -But I have a creepy sort of feeling that if you went down to his house -and private parlour to see Snowdrop, you’d be surprised at what you -saw.” - -“What should we see?” asked the Colonel, staring. - -“You’d see nothing at all,” replied the young man. - -“What on earth do you mean?” - -“I mean,” replied Pierce, “that you’d find Mr. White talking to -somebody who didn’t seem to be there.” - - * * * * * - -Hilary Pierce, fired by his detective fever, made a good many more -inquiries about the Rev. Wilding White, both of his two old friends and -elsewhere. - -One long legal conversation with Owen Hood did indeed put him in -possession of the legal outline of certain matters, which might be said -to throw a light on some parts of the strange letter, and which might -in time even be made to throw a light on the rest. White was the vicar -of a parish lying deep in the western parts of Somersetshire, where -the principal landowner was a certain Lord Arlington. And in this case -there had been a quarrel between the squire and the parson, of a more -revolutionary sort than is common in the case of parsons. The clergyman -intensely resented that irony or anomaly which has caused so much -discontent among tenants in Ireland and throughout the world; the fact -that improvements or constructive work actually done by the tenant -only pass into the possession of the landlord. He had considerably -improved a house that he himself rented from the squire, but in some -kind of crisis of defiance or renunciation, he had quitted this more -official residence bag and baggage, and built himself a sort of wooden -lodge or bungalow on a small hill or mound that rose amid woods on the -extreme edge of the same grounds. This quarrel about the claim of the -tenant to his own work was evidently the meaning of certain phrases in -the letter--such as the timber coming from the other end of the county, -the sort of work being a man’s own affair, and the general allusion -to somebody’s flunkeys or sycophants who attempted to boycott the -discontented tenant. But it was not quite clear whether the allusions -to a new arrangement, and how it worked, referred to the bungalow or to -the other and more elusive mystery of the presence of Snowdrop. - -One phrase in the letter he found to have been repeated in many places -and to many persons without becoming altogether clear in the process. -It was the sentence that ran: “I was afraid at first it would really -be an encumbrance, as you know it’s always supposed to be.” Both -Colonel Crane and Owen Hood, and also several other persons whom he -met later in his investigations, were agreed in saying that Mr. White -had used some expression indicating that he had entangled himself with -something troublesome or at least useless; something that he did not -want. None of them could remember the exact words he had used; but all -could state in general terms that it referred to some sort of negative -nuisance or barren responsibility. This could hardly refer to Snowdrop, -of whom he always wrote in terms of tenderness as if she were a baby -or a kitten. It seemed hard to believe it could refer to the house -he had built entirely to suit himself. It seemed as if there must be -some third thing in his muddled existence, which loomed vaguely in the -background through the vapour of his confused correspondence. - -Colonel Crane snapped his fingers with a mild irritation in trying -to recall a trifle. “He said it was a--you know, I’ve forgotten the -word--a botheration or embarrassment. But then he’s always in a state -of botheration and embarrassment. I didn’t tell you, by the way, that I -had a letter from him too. Came the day after I heard yours. Shorter, -and perhaps a little plainer.” And he handed the letter to Hood, who -read it out slowly: - - “‘I never knew the old British populace, here in Avalon itself, could - be so broken down by squires and sneaking lawyers. Nobody dared help - me move my house again; said it was illegal and they were afraid - of the police. But Snowdrop helped, and we carted it all away in - two or three journeys; took it right clean off the old fool’s land - altogether this time. I fancy the old fool will have to admit there - are things in this world he wasn’t prepared to believe in.’” - -“But look here,” began Hood as if impulsively, and then stopped and -spoke more slowly and carefully. “I don’t understand this; I think it’s -extremely odd. I don’t mean odd for an ordinary person, but odd for an -odd person; odd for this odd person. I know White better than either -of you can, and I can tell you that, though he tells a tale anyhow, -the tale is always true. He’s rather precise and pedantic when you -do come to the facts; these litigious quarrelsome people often are. -He would do extraordinary things, but he wouldn’t make them out more -extraordinary than they were. I mean he’s the sort of man who might -break all the squire’s windows, but he wouldn’t say he’d broken six -when he’d broken five. I’ve always found when I’d got to the meaning of -those mad letters that it was quite true. But how can this be true? How -could Snowdrop, whatever she is, have moved a whole house, or old White -either?” - -“I suppose you know what I think,” said Pierce. “I told you that -Snowdrop, whatever else she is, is invisible. I’m certain your friend -has gone Spiritualist, and Snowdrop is the name of a spirit, or a -control, or whatever they call it. The spirit would say, of course, -that it was mere child’s play to throw the house from one end of the -county to the other. But if this unfortunate gentleman believes himself -to have been thrown, house and all, in that fashion, I’m very much -afraid he’s begun really to suffer from delusions.” - -The faces of the two older men looked suddenly much older, perhaps for -the first time they looked old. The young man seeing their dolorous -expression was warmed and fired to speak quickly. - -“Look here,” he said hastily, “I’ll go down there myself and find out -what I can for you. I’ll go this afternoon.” - -“Train journey takes ages,” said the Colonel, shaking his head. “Other -end of nowhere. Told me yourself you had an appointment at the Air -Ministry to-morrow.” - -“Be there in no time,” replied Pierce cheerfully. “I’ll fly down.” - -And there was something in the lightness and youth of his vanishing -gesture that seemed really like Icarus spurning the earth, the first -man to mount upon wings. - -Perhaps this literally flying figure shone the more vividly in their -memories because, when they saw it again, it was in a subtle sense -changed. When the other two next saw Hilary Pierce on the steps of -the Air Ministry, they were conscious that his manner was a little -quieter, but his wild eye rather wilder than usual. They adjourned to -a neighbouring restaurant and talked of trivialities while luncheon was -served; but the Colonel, who was a keen observer, was sure that Pierce -had suffered some sort of shock, or at least some sort of check. While -they were considering what to say Pierce himself said abruptly, staring -at a mustard-pot on the table: - -“What do you think about spirits?” - -“Never touch ’em,” said the Colonel. “Sound port never hurt anybody.” - -“I mean the other sort,” said Pierce. “Things like ghosts and all that.” - -“I don’t know,” said Owen Hood. “The Greek for it is agnosticism. The -Latin for it is ignorance. But have you really been dealing with ghosts -and spirits down at poor White’s parsonage?” - -“I don’t know,” said Pierce gravely. - -“You don’t mean you really think you saw something!” cried Hood sharply. - -“There goes the agnostic!” said Pierce with a rather weary smile. “The -minute the agnostic hears a bit of real agnosticism he shrieks out that -it’s superstition. I say I don’t know whether it was a spirit. I also -say I don’t know what the devil else it was if it wasn’t. In plain -words, I went down to that place convinced that poor White had got -some sort of delusions. Now I wonder whether it’s I that have got the -delusions.” - -He paused a moment and then went on in a more collected manner: - -“But I’d better tell you all about it. To begin with, I don’t admit it -as an explanation, but it’s only fair to allow for it as a fact--that -all that part of the world seems to be full of that sort of thing. -You know how the glamour of Glastonbury lies over all that land and -the lost tomb of King Arthur and time when he shall return and the -prophecies of Merlin and all the rest. To begin with, the village -they call Ponder’s End ought to be called World’s End; it gives one -the impression of being somewhere west of the sunset. And then the -parsonage is quite a long way west of the parish, in large neglected -grounds fading into pathless woods and hills; I mean the old empty -rectory that our wild friend has evacuated. It stood there a cold -empty shell of flat classical architecture, as hollow as one of those -classical temples they used to stick up in country seats. But White -must have done some sort of parish work there, for I found a great -big empty shed in the grounds--that sort of thing that’s used for a -schoolroom or drill-hall or what not. But not a sign of him or his work -can be seen there now. I’ve said it’s a long way west of the village -that you come at last to the old house. Well, it’s a long way west of -that that you come to the new house--if you come to it at all. As for -me, I came and I came not, as in some old riddle of Merlin. But you -shall hear. - -“I had come down about sunset in a meadow near Ponder’s End, and I did -the rest of the journey on foot, for I wanted to see things in detail. -This was already difficult as it was growing dusk, and I began to fear -I should find nothing of importance before nightfall. I had asked a -question or two of the villagers about the vicar and his new self-made -vicarage. They were very reticent about the former, but I gathered that -the latter stood at the extreme edge of his original grounds on a hill -rising out of a thicket of wood. In the increasing darkness it was -difficult to find the place, but I came on it at last, in a place where -a fringe of forest ran along under the low brows of a line of rugged -cliffs, such as sometimes break the curves of great downlands. I seemed -to be descending a thickly wooded slope, with a sea of tree-tops below -me, and out of that sea, like an island, rose the dome of the isolated -hill; and I could faintly see the building on it, darker against the -dark-clouded sky. For a moment a faint line of light from the masked -moon showed me a little more of its shape, which seemed singularly -simple and airy in its design. Against that pallid gleam stood four -strong columns, with the bulk of building apparently lifted above them; -but it produced a queer impression, as if this Christian priest had -built for his final home a heathen temple of the winds. As I leaned -forward, peering at it, I overbalanced myself and slid rapidly down -the steep thicket into the darkest entrails of the wood. From there I -could see nothing of the pillared house or temple or whatever it was on -the hill; the thick woods had swallowed me up literally like a sea, and -I groped for what must have been nearly half an hour amid tangled roots -and low branches, in that double darkness of night and shadow, before -I found my feet slipping on the opposite slope and began to climb -the hill on the top of which the temple stood. It was very difficult -climbing, of course, through a network of briars and branching trees, -and it was some little time afterwards that I burst through the last -screen of foliage and came out upon the bare hill-top. - -“Yes; upon the bare hill-top. Rank grasses grew on it, and the wind -blew them about like hair on a head; but for any trace of anything -else, that green dome was as bare as a skull. There was no sign or -shadow of the building I had seen there a little time before; it had -vanished like a fairy palace. A broad track broken through the woods -seemed to lead up to it, so far as I could make out in that obscurity; -but there was no trace of the building to which it led. And when I saw -that, I gave up. Something told me I should find out no more; perhaps -I had some shaken sense that there were things past finding out. I -retraced my steps, descending the hill as best I might; but when I was -again swallowed up in that leafy sea, something happened that, for an -instant, turned me cold as stone. An unearthly noise, like long hooting -laughter, rang out in vast volume over the forest and rose to the -stars. It was no noise to which I could put a name; it was certainly no -noise I had ever heard before; it bore some sort of resemblance to the -neighing of a horse immensely magnified; yet it might have been half -human, and there was triumph in it and derision. - -“I will tell you one more thing I learnt before I left those parts. I -left them at once, partly because I really had an appointment early -this morning, as I told you; partly also, I think, because I felt you -had the right to know at once what sort of things were to be faced. I -was alarmed when I thought your friend was tormented with imaginary -bogies; I am not less alarmed if he had got mixed up with real ones. -Anyhow, before I left that village I had told one man what I had seen, -and he told me he had seen it also. But he had seen it actually moving, -in dusk turning to dark; the whole great house, with its high columns, -moving across the fields like a great ship sailing on land.” - -Owen Hood sat up suddenly, with awakened eyes, and struck the table. - -“Look here,” he cried, with a new ring in his voice, “we must all go -down to Ponder’s End and bring this business to a finish.” - -“Do you think you will bring it to a finish?” asked Pierce gloomily; -“or can you tell what sort of a finish?” - -“Yes,” replied Hood resolutely. “I think I can finish it, and I think -I know what the finish will be. The truth is, my friend, I think I -understand the whole thing now. And as I told you before, Wilding -White, so far from being deluded by imaginary bogies, is a gentleman -very exact in his statements. In this matter he has been very exact. -That has been the whole mystery about him--that he has been very much -too exact.” - -“What on earth do you mean by that?” asked Pierce. - -“I mean,” said the lawyer, “that I have suddenly remembered the -phrase he used. It was very exact; it was dull, literal truth. But I -can be exact, too, at times, and just now I should like to look at a -time-table.” - - * * * * * - -They found the village of Ponder’s End in a condition as comically -incongruous as could well be with the mystical experiences of Mr. -Hilary Pierce. When we talk of such places as sleepy, we forget that -they are very wide-awake about their own affairs, and especially on -their own festive occasions. Piccadilly Circus looks much the same -on Christmas Day or any other; but the marketplace of a country town -or village looks very different on the day of a fair or bazaar. -And Hilary Pierce, who had first come down there to find in a wood -at midnight the riddle that he thought worthy of Merlin, came down -the second time to find himself plunged suddenly into the middle of -the bustling bathos of a jumble sale. It was one of those bazaars to -provide bargains for the poor, at which all sorts of odds and ends are -sold off. But it was treated as a sort of fête, and highly-coloured -posters and handbills announced its nature on every side. The bustle -seemed to be dominated by a tall dark lady of distinguished appearance, -whom Owen Hood, rather to the surprise of his companions, hailed as an -old acquaintance and managed to draw aside for a private talk. She had -appeared to have her hands full at the bazaar; nevertheless, her talk -with Hood was rather a long one. Pierce only heard the last words of it: - -“Oh, he promised he was bringing something for the sale. I assure you -he always keeps his word.” - -All Hood said when he rejoined his companion was: “That’s the lady -White was going to marry. I think I know now why things went wrong, and -I hope they may go right. But there seems to be another bother. You see -that clump of clod-hopping policemen over there, inspector and all. It -seems they’re waiting for White. Say he’s broken the law in taking his -house off the land, and that he has always eluded them. I hope there -won’t be a scene when he turns up.” - -If this was Mr. Hood’s hope, it was ill-founded and destined to -disappointment. A scene was but a faint description of what was in -store for that hopeful gentleman. Within ten minutes the greater part -of the company were in a world in which the sun and moon seemed to have -turned topsy-turvy and the last limit of unlikelihood had been reached. -Pierce had imagined he was very near that limit of the imagination when -he groped after the vanishing temple in the dark forest. But nothing he -had seen in that darkness and solitude was so fantastic as what he saw -next in broad daylight in a crowd. - -At one extreme edge of the crowd there was a sudden movement--a wave -of recoil and wordless cries. The next moment it had swept like a wind -over the whole populace, and hundreds of faces were turned in one -direction--in the direction of the road that descended by a gradual -slope towards the woods that fringed the vicarage grounds. Out of those -woods at the foot of the hill had emerged something that might from its -size have been a large light grey omnibus. But it was not an omnibus. -It scaled the slope so swiftly, in great strides, that it became -instantly self-evident what it was. It was an elephant, whose monstrous -form was moulded in grey and silver in the sunlight, and on whose back -sat very erect a vigorous middle-aged gentleman in black clerical -attire, with blanched hair and a rather fierce aquiline profile that -glanced proudly to left and right. - -The police inspector managed to make one step forward, and then stood -like a statue. The vicar, on his vast steed, sailed into the middle of -the marketplace as serenely as if he had been the master of a familiar -circus. He pointed in triumph to one of the red and blue posters on the -wall, which bore the traditional title of “White Elephant Sale.” - -“You see I’ve kept my word,” he said to the lady in a loud, cheerful -voice. “I’ve brought a white elephant.” - -The next moment he had waved his hand hilariously in another direction, -having caught sight of Hood and Crane in the crowd. - -“Splendid of you to come!” he called out. “Only you were in the secret. -I told you I’d got a white elephant.” - -“So he did,” said Hood; “only it never occurred to us that the elephant -was an elephant and not a metaphor. So that’s what he meant by Asiatic -atmosphere and snow and mountains. And that’s what the big shed was -really for.” - -“Look here,” said the inspector, recovering from his astonishment and -breaking in on these felicitations. “I don’t understand all these -games, but it’s my business to ask a few questions. Sorry to say it, -sir, but you’ve ignored our notifications and evaded our attempts -to----” - -“Have I?” inquired Mr. White brightly. “Have I really evaded you? Well, -well, perhaps I have. An elephant is such a standing temptation to -evasion, to evanescence, to fading away like a dewdrop. Like a snowdrop -perhaps would be more appropriate. Come on, Snowdrop.” - -The last word came smartly, and he gave a smart smack to the huge -head of the pachyderm. Before the inspector could move or anyone had -realized what had happened, the whole big bulk had pitched forward with -a plunge like a cataract and went in great whirling strides, the crowd -scattering before it. The police had not come provided for elephants, -which are rare in those parts. Even if they had overtaken it on -bicycles, they would have found it difficult to climb it on bicycles. -Even if they had had revolvers, they had omitted to conceal about their -persons anything in the way of big-game rifles. The white monster -vanished rapidly up the long white road, so rapidly that when it -dwindled to a small object and disappeared, people could hardly believe -that such a prodigy had ever been present, or that their eyes had not -been momentarily bewitched. Only, as it disappeared in the distance, -Pierce heard once more the high nasal trumpeting noise which, in the -eclipse of night, had seemed to fill the forest with fear. - -It was at a subsequent meeting in London that Crane and Pierce had an -opportunity of learning, more or less, the true story of the affair, in -the form of another letter from the parson to the lawyer. - -“Now that we know the secret,” said Pierce cheerfully, “even his -account of it ought to be quite clear.” - -“Quite clear,” replied Hood calmly. “His letter begins, ‘Dear Owen, I -am really tremendously grateful in spite of all I used to say against -leather and about horse-hair.’” - -“About what?” asked Pierce. - -“Horse-hair,” said Hood with severity. “He goes on, ‘The truth is they -thought they could do what they liked with me because I always boasted -that I hadn’t got one, and never wanted to have one; but when they -found I had got one, and I must really say a jolly good one, of course -it was all quite different.’” - -Pierce had his elbows on the table, and his fingers thrust up into his -loose yellow hair. He had rather the appearance of holding his head on. -He was muttering to himself very softly, like a schoolboy learning a -lesson. - -“He had got one, but he didn’t want one, and he hadn’t got one and he -had a jolly good one.” - -“One what?” asked Crane irritably. “Seems like a missing word -competition.” - -“I’ve got the prize,” observed Hood placidly. “The missing word is -‘solicitor.’ What he means is that the police took liberties with him -because they knew he would not have a lawyer. And he is perfectly -right; for when I took the matter up on his behalf, I soon found that -they had put themselves on the wrong side of the law at least as much -as he had. In short, I was able to extricate him from this police -business; hence his hearty if not lucid gratitude. But he goes on to -talk about something rather more personal; and I think it really has -been a rather interesting case, if he does not exactly shine as a -narrator of it. As I dare say you noticed, I did know something of the -lady whom our eccentric friend went courting years ago, rather in the -spirit of Sir Roger de Coverley when he went courting the widow. She is -a Miss Julia Drake, daughter of a country gentleman. I hope you won’t -misunderstand me if I say that she is a rather formidable lady. She is -really a thoroughly good sort; but that air of the black-browed Juno -she has about her does correspond to some real qualities. She is one -of those people who can manage big enterprises, and the bigger they -are the happier she is. When that sort of force functions within the -limits of a village or a small valley, the impact is sometimes rather -overpowering. You saw her managing the White Elephant Sale at Ponder’s -End. Well, if it had been literally an army of wild elephants, it -would hardly have been on too large a scale for her tastes. In that -sense, I may say that our friend’s white elephant was not so much of -a white elephant. I mean that in that sense it was not so much of an -irrelevancy and hardly even a surprise. But in another way, it was a -very great relief.” - -“You’re getting nearly as obscure as he is,” remonstrated Pierce. “What -is all this mysterious introduction leading up to? What do you mean?” - -“I mean,” replied the lawyer, “that experience has taught me a little -secret about very practical public characters like that lady. It -sounds a paradox; but those practical people are often more morbid -than theoretical people. They are capable of acting; but they are also -capable of brooding when they are not acting. Their very stoicism makes -too sentimental a secret of their sentimentalism. They misunderstand -those they love; and make a mystery of the misunderstanding. They -suffer in silence; a horrid habit. In short, they can do everything; -but they don’t know how to do nothing. Theorists, happy people who do -nothing, like our friend Pierce----” - -“Look here,” cried the indignant Pierce. “I should like to know what -the devil you mean? I’ve broken more law than you ever read in your -life. If this psychological lecture is the new lucidity, give me Mr. -White.” - -“Oh, very well,” replied Hood, “if you prefer his text to my -exposition, he describes the same situation as follows: ‘I ought to -be grateful, being perfectly happy after all this muddle; I suppose -one ought to be careful about nomenclature; but it never even occurred -to me that her nose would be out of joint. Rather funny to be talking -about noses, isn’t it, for I suppose really it was her rival’s nose -that figured most prominently. Think of having a rival with a nose like -that to turn up at you! Talk about a spire pointing to the stars----’” - -“I think,” said Crane, interposing mildly, “that it would be better if -you resumed your duties as official interpreter. What was it that you -were going to say about the lady who brooded over misunderstandings?” - -“I was going to say,” replied the lawyer, “that when I first came upon -that crowd in the village, and saw that tall figure and dark strong -face dominating it in the old way, my mind went back to a score of -things I remembered about her in the past. Though we have not met for -ten years, I knew from the first glimpse of her face that she had -been worrying, in a powerful secretive sort of way; worrying about -something she didn’t understand and would not inquire about. I remember -long ago, when she was an ordinary fox-hunting squire’s daughter and -White was one of Sydney Smith’s wild curates, how she sulked for two -months over a mistake about a post-card that could have been explained -in two minutes. At least it could have been explained by anybody -except White. But you will understand that if he tried to explain the -post-card on another post-card, the results may not have been luminous, -let alone radiant.” - -“But what has all this to do with noses?” inquired Pierce. - -“Don’t you understand yet?” asked Hood with a smile. “Don’t you know -who was the rival with a long nose?” - -He paused a moment and then continued, “It occurred to me as soon as I -had guessed at the nature of the nose which may certainly be called the -main feature of the story. An elusive, flexible and insinuating nose, -the serpent of their Eden. Well, they seem to have returned to their -Eden now; and I have no doubt it will be all right; for it is when -people are separated that these sort of secrets spring up between them. -After all, it was a mystery to us and we cannot be surprised if it was -a mystery to her.” - -“A good deal of this is still rather a mystery to me,” remarked Pierce, -“though I admit it is getting a little clearer. You mean that the point -that has just been cleared up is----” - -“The point about Snowdrop,” replied Hood. “We thought of a pony, and a -monkey, and a baby, and a good many other things that Snowdrop might -possibly be. But we never thought of the interpretation which was the -first to occur to the lady.” - -There was a silence, and then Crane laughed in an internal fashion. - -“Well, I don’t blame her,” he said. “One could hardly expect a lady of -any delicacy to deduce an elephant.” - -“It’s an extraordinary business, when you come to think of it,” said -Pierce. “Where did he get the elephant?” - -“He says something about that too,” said Hood referring to the letter. -“He says, ‘I may be a quarrelsome fellow. But quarrels sometimes -do good. And though it wasn’t actually one of Captain Pierce’s -caravans----’” - -“No hang it all!” cried Pierce. “This is really too much! To see one’s -own name entangled in such hieroglyphics--it reminds me of seeing it in -a Dutch paper during the war; and wondering whether all the other words -were terms of abuse.” - -“I think I can explain,” answered Hood patiently. “I assure you the -reverend gentleman is not taking liberties with your name in a merely -irresponsible spirit. As I told you before, he is strictly truthful -when you get at the facts, though they may be difficult to get at. -Curiously enough, there really is a connexion. I sometimes think there -is a connexion beyond coincidence running through all our adventures; a -purpose in these unconscious practical jokes. It seems rather eccentric -to make friends with a white elephant----” - -“Rather eccentric to make friends with us,” said the Colonel. “We are a -set of white elephants.” - -“As a matter of fact,” said the lawyer, “this particular last prank of -the parson really did arise out of the last prank of our friend Pierce.” - -“Me!” said Pierce in surprise. “Have I been producing elephants without -knowing it?” - -“Yes,” replied Hood. “You remember when you were smuggling pigs in -defiance of the regulations, you indulged (I regret to say) in a -deception of putting them in cages and pretending you were travelling -with a menagerie of dangerous animals. The consequence was, you -remember, that the authorities forbade menageries altogether. Our -friend White took up the case of a travelling circus being stopped in -his town as a case of gross oppression; and when they had to break it -up, he took over the elephant.” - -“Sort of small payment for his services, I suppose,” said Crane. -“Curious idea, taking a tip in the form of an elephant.” - -“He might not have done it if he’d known what it involved,” said Hood. -“As I say, he was a quarrelsome fellow, with all his good points.” - -There was a silence, and then Pierce said in a musing manner: “It’s odd -it should be the sequel of my little pig adventure. A sort of reversal -of the _parturiunt montes_; I put in a little pig and it brought forth -an elephant.” - -“It will bring forth more monsters yet,” said Owen Hood. “We have not -seen all the sequels of your adventures as a swineherd.” - -But touching the other monsters or monstrous events so produced, the -reader has already been warned--nay, threatened--that they are involved -in the narrative called the Exclusive Luxury of Enoch Oates, and for -the moment the threat must hang like thunder in the air. - - - - -V - -THE EXCLUSIVE LUXURY OF ENOCH OATES - - - - -V - -THE EXCLUSIVE LUXURY OF ENOCH OATES - - “Since the Colonel ate his hat the Lunatic Asylum has lacked a - background.” - - -The conscientious scribe cannot but be aware that the above sentence -standing alone and without reference to previous matters, may not -entirely explain itself. Anyone trying the experiment of using that -sentence for practical social purposes; tossing that sentence lightly -as a greeting to a passer-by; sending that sentence as a telegram to a -total stranger; whispering that sentence hoarsely into the ear of the -nearest policeman, and so on, will find that its insufficiency as a -full and final statement is generally felt. With no morbid curiosity, -with no exaggerated appetite for omniscience, men will want to know -more about this statement before acting upon it. And the only way of -explaining it, and the unusual circumstances in which it came to be -said, is to pursue the doubling and devious course of these narratives, -and return to a date very much earlier, when men now more than -middle-aged were quite young. - -It was in the days when the Colonel was not the Colonel, but only Jimmy -Crane, a restless youth tossed about by every wind of adventure, but -as yet as incapable of discipline as of dressing for dinner. It was -in days before Robert Owen Hood, the lawyer, had ever begun to study -the Law and had only got so far as to abolish it; coming down to the -club every night with a new plan for a revolution to turn all earthly -tribunals upside-down. It was in days before Wilding White settled down -as a country parson, returning to the creed though not the conventions -of his class and country; when he was still ready to change his -religion once a week, turning up sometimes in the costume of a monk -and sometimes of a mufti, and sometimes in what he declared to be the -original vestments of a Druid, whose religion was shortly to be resumed -by the whole British people. It was in days when their young friend -Hilary Pierce, the aviator, was still anticipating aviation by flying -a small kite. In short, it was early in the lives even of the elders -of the group that they had founded a small social club, in which their -long friendships had flourished. The club had to have some sort of -name, and the more thoughtful and detached among them, who saw the club -steadily and saw it whole, considered the point with ripe reflection, -and finally called their little society the Lunatic Asylum. - -“We might all stick straws in our hair for dinner, as the Romans -crowned themselves with roses for the banquet,” observed Hood. “It -would correspond to dressing for dinner; I don’t know what else we -could do to vary the vulgar society trick of all wearing the same sort -of white waistcoats.” - -“All wearing strait-waistcoats, I suppose,” said Crane. - -“We might each dine separately in a padded cell, if it comes to that,” -said Hood; “but there seems to be something lacking in it considered as -a social evening.” - -Here Wilding White, who was then in a monastic phase, intervened -eagerly. He explained that in some monasteries a monk of peculiar -holiness was allowed to become a hermit in an inner cell, and proposed -a similar arrangement at the club. Hood, with his more mellow -rationalism, intervened with a milder amendment. He suggested that a -large padded chair should represent the padded cell, and be reserved -like a throne for the loftiest of the lunatics. - -“Do not,” he said gently and earnestly, “do not let us be divided by -jealousies and petty ambitions. Do not let us dispute among ourselves -which shall be dottiest in the domain of the dotty. Perhaps one will -appear worthier than us all, more manifestly and magnificently weak in -the head; for him let the padded throne stand empty.” - -Jimmy Crane had said no more after his brief suggestion, but was -pacing the room like a polar bear, as he generally did when there came -upon him a periodical impulse to go off after things like polar bears. -He was the wildest of all those wild figures so far as the scale of -his adventures was concerned, constantly vanishing to the ends of the -earth nobody knew why, and turning up again nobody knew how. He had a -hobby, even in his youth, that made his outlook seem even stranger than -the bewildering successive philosophies of his friend White. He had -an enthusiasm for the myths of savages, and while White was balancing -the relative claims of Buddhism and Brahmanism, Crane would boldly -declare his preference for the belief that a big fish ate the sun every -night, or that the whole cosmos was created by cutting up a giant. -Moreover, there was with all this something indefinable but in some -way more serious about Crane even in these days. There was much that -was merely boyish about the blind impetuosity of Wilding White, with -his wild hair and eager aquiline face. He was evidently one who might -(as he said) learn the secret of Isis, but would be quite incapable of -keeping it to himself. The long, legal face of Owen Hood had already -learned to laugh at most things, if not to laugh loudly. But in Crane -there was something more hard and militant like steel, and as he proved -afterwards in the affair of the hat, he could keep a secret even when -it was a joke. So that when he finally went off on a long tour round -the world, with the avowed intention of studying all the savages he -could find, nobody tried to stop him. He went off in a startlingly -shabby suit, with a faded sash instead of a waistcoat, and with no -luggage in particular, except a large revolver slung round him in a -case like a field-glass, and a big, green umbrella that he flourished -resolutely as he walked. - -“Well, he’ll come back a queerer figure than he went, I suppose,” said -Wilding White. - -“He couldn’t,” answered Hood, the lawyer, shaking his head. “I don’t -believe all the devil-worship in Africa could make him any madder than -he is.” - -“But he’s going to America first, isn’t he?” said the other. - -“Yes,” said Hood. “He’s going to America, but not to see the Americans. -He would think the Americans very dull compared with the American -Indians. Possibly he will come back in feathers and war-paint.” - -“He’ll come back scalped, I suppose,” said White hopefully. “I suppose -being scalped is all the rage in the best Red Indian society?” - -“Then he’s working round by the South Sea Islands,” said Hood. “They -don’t scalp people there; they only stew them in pots.” - -“He couldn’t very well come back stewed,” said White, musing. “Does it -strike you, Owen, that we should hardly be talking nonsense like this -if we hadn’t a curious faith that a fellow like Crane will know how to -look after himself?” - -“Yes,” said Hood gravely. “I’ve got a very fixed fundamental conviction -that Crane will turn up again all right. But it’s true that he may look -jolly queer after going _fantee_ for all that time.” - -It became a sort of pastime at the club of the Lunatics to compete -in speculations about the guise in which the maddest of their madmen -would return, after being so long lost to civilization. And grand -preparations were made as for a sort of Walpurgis Night of nonsense -when it was known at last that he was really returning. Hood had -received letters from him occasionally, full of queer mythologies, and -then a rapid succession of telegrams from places nearer and nearer -home, culminating in the announcement that he would appear in the club -that night. It was about five minutes before dinnertime that a sharp -knock on the door announced his arrival. - -“Bang all the gongs and the tom-toms,” cried Wilding White. “The Lord -High Mumbo-Jumbo arrives riding on the nightmare.” - -“We had better bring out the throne of the King of the Maniacs,” said -Hood, laughing. “We may want it at last,” and he turned towards the big -padded chair that still stood at the top of the table. - -As he did so James Crane walked into the room. He was clad in very -neat and well-cut evening clothes, not too fashionable, and a little -formal. His hair was parted on one side, and his moustache clipped -rather close; he took a seat with a pleasant smile, and began talking -about the weather. - -He was not allowed, however, to confine his conversation to the -weather. He had certainly succeeded in giving his old friends the only -sort of surprise that they really had not expected; but they were -too old friends for their friend to be able to conceal from them the -meaning of such a change. And it was on that festive evening that Crane -explained his position; a position which he maintained in most things -ever afterwards, and one which is the original foundation of the affair -that follows. - -“I have lived with the men we call savages all over the world,” he said -simply, “and I have found out one truth about them. And I tell you, my -friends, you may talk about independence and individual self-expression -till you burst. But I’ve always found, wherever I went, that the man -who could really be trusted to keep his word, and to fight, and to -work for his family, was the man who did a war-dance before the moon -where the moon was worshipped, and wore a nose-ring in his nose where -nose-rings were worn. I have had plenty of fun, and I won’t interfere -with anyone else having it. But I believe I have seen what is the real -making of mankind, and I have come back to my tribe.” - -This was the first act of the drama which ended in the remarkable -appearance and disappearance of Mr. Enoch Oates, and it has been -necessary to narrate it briefly before passing on to the second act. -Ever since that time Crane had preserved at once his eccentric friends -and his own more formal customs. And there were many among the newer -members of the club who had never known him except as the Colonel, -the grizzled, military gentleman whose severe scheme of black and -white attire and strict politeness in small things formed the one foil -of sharp contrast to that many-coloured Bohemia. One of these was -Hilary Pierce, the young aviator; and much as he liked the Colonel, he -never quite understood him. He had never known the old soldier in his -volcanic youth, as had Hood and White, and therefore never knew how -much of the fire remained under the rock or the snows. The singular -affair of the hat, which has been narrated to the too patient reader -elsewhere, surprised him more than it did the older men, who knew very -well that the Colonel was not so old as he looked. And the impression -increased with all the incidents which a fanatical love of truth has -forced the chronicler to relate in the same connexion; the incident of -the river and of the pigs and of the somewhat larger pet of Mr. Wilding -White. There was talk of renaming the Lunatic Asylum as the League of -the Long Bow, and of commemorating its performances in a permanent -ritual. The Colonel was induced to wear a crown of cabbage on state -occasions, and Pierce was gravely invited to bring his pigs with him to -dine at the club. - -“You could easily bring a little pig in your large pocket,” said Hood. -“I often wonder people do not have pigs as pets.” - -“A pig in a poke, in fact,” said Pierce. “Well, so long as you have the -tact to avoid the indelicacy of having pork for dinner that evening, I -suppose I could bring my pig in my pocket.” - -“White’d find it rather a nuisance to bring his elephant in his -pocket,” observed the Colonel. - -Pierce glanced at him, and had again the feeling of incongruity at -seeing the ceremonial cabbage adorning his comparatively venerable -head. For the Colonel had just been married, and was rejuvenated in an -almost jaunty degree. Somehow the philosophical young man seemed to -miss something, and sighed. It was then that he made the remark which -is the pivot of this precise though laborious anecdote. - -“Since the Colonel ate his hat,” he said, “the Lunatic Asylum has -lacked a background.” - -“Damn your impudence,” said the Colonel cheerfully. “Do you mean to -call me a background to my face?” - -“A dark background,” said Pierce soothingly. “Do not resent my saying -a dark background. I mean a grand, mysterious background like that of -night; a sublime and even starry background.” - -“Starry yourself,” said Crane indignantly. - -“It was against that background of ancient night,” went on the young -man dreamily, “that the fantastic shapes and fiery colours of our -carnival could really be seen. So long as he came here with his black -coat and beautiful society manners there was a foil to our follies. We -were eccentric, but he was our centre. You cannot be eccentric without -a centre.” - -“I believe Hilary is quite right,” said Owen Hood earnestly. “I believe -we have made a great mistake. We ought not to have all gone mad at -once. We ought to have taken it in turns to go mad. Then I could have -been shocked at his behaviour on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and -he could have been shocked at my behaviour on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and -Saturdays. But there is no moral value in going mad when nobody is -shocked. If Crane leaves off being shocked, what are we to do?” - -“I know what we want,” began Pierce excitedly. - -“So do I,” interrupted Hood. “We want a sane man.” - -“Not so easy to find nowadays,” said the old soldier. “Going to -advertise?” - -“I mean a stupid man,” explained Owen Hood. “I mean a man who’s -conventional all through, not a humbug like Crane. I mean, I want a -solid, serious business man, a hard-headed, practical man of affairs, a -man to whom vast commercial interests are committed. In a word, I want -a fool; some beautiful, rounded, homogeneous fool, in whose blameless -face, as in a round mirror, all our fancies may really be reflected and -renewed. I want a very successful man, a very wealthy man, a man----” - -“I know! I know!” cried young Pierce, almost waving his arms. “Enoch -Oates!” - -“Who’s Enoch Oates?” inquired White. - -“Are the lords of the world so little known?” asked Hood. - -“Enoch Oates is Pork, and nearly everything else; Enoch Oates is -turning civilization into one vast sausage-machine. Didn’t I ever tell -you how Hilary ran into him over that pig affair?” - -“He’s the very man you want,” cried Hilary Pierce enthusiastically. -“I know him, and I believe I can get him. Being a millionaire, he’s -entirely ignorant. Being an American, he’s entirely in earnest. He’s -got just that sort of negative Nonconformist conscience of New England -that balances the positive money-getting of New York. If we want to -surprise anybody we’ll surprise him. Let’s ask Enoch Oates to dinner.” - -“I won’t have any practical jokes played on guests,” said the Colonel. - -“Of course not,” replied Hood. “He’ll be only too pleased to take it -seriously. Did you ever know an American who didn’t like seeing the -Sights? And if you don’t know you’re a Sight with that cabbage on your -head, it’s time an American tourist taught you.” - -“Besides, there’s a difference,” said Pierce. “I wouldn’t ask a fellow -like that doctor, Horace Hunter----” - -“Sir Horace Hunter,” murmured Hood reverently. - -“I wouldn’t ask him, because I really think him a sneak and a snob, -and my invitation could only be meant as an insult. But Oates is not -a man I hate, nor is he hateful. That’s the curious part of it. He’s -a simple, sincere sort of fellow, according to his lights, which are -pretty dim. He’s a thief and a robber of course, but he doesn’t know -it. I’m asking him because he’s different; but I don’t imagine he’s -at all sorry to be different. There’s no harm in giving a man a good -dinner and letting him be a background without knowing it.” - -When Mr. Enoch Oates in due course accepted the invitation and -presented himself at the club, many were reminded of that former -occasion when a stiff and conventional figure in evening dress had -first appeared like a rebuke to the revels. But in spite of the -stiff sameness of both those black and white costumes, there was -a great deal of difference between the old background and the new -background. Crane’s good manners were of that casual kind that are -rather peculiarly English, and mark an aristocracy at its ease in the -saddle. Curiously enough, if the American had one point in common with -a Continental noble of ancient lineage (whom his daughter might have -married any day), it was that they would both be a little more on the -defensive, living in the midst of democracy. Mr. Oates was perfectly -polite, but there was something a little rigid about him. He walked -to his chair rather stiffly and sat down rather heavily. He was a -powerful, ponderous man with a large sallow face, a little suggestive -of a corpulent Red Indian. He had a ruminant eye, and equally ruminant -manner of chewing an unlighted cigar. These were signs that might well -have gone with a habit of silence. But they did not. - -Mr. Oates’s conversation might not be brilliant, but it was continuous. -Pierce and his friends had begun with some notion of dangling their -own escapades before him like dancing dolls before a child; they had -told him something of the affair of the Colonel and his cabbage, of -the captain and his pigs, of the parson and his elephants; but they -soon found that their hearer had not come there merely as a listener. -What he thought of their romantic buffooneries it would be hard to -say; probably he did not understand them, possibly he did not even -hear them. Anyhow, his own monologue went on. He was a leisurely -speaker. They found themselves revising much that they had heard about -the snap and smartness and hurry of American talk. He spoke without -haste or embarrassment, his eye boring into space, and he more than -fulfilled Mr. Pierce’s hopes of somebody who would talk about business -matters. His talk was a mild torrent of facts and figures, especially -figures. In fact the background was doing all it could to contribute -the required undertone of common commercial life. The background was -justifying all their hopes that it would be practical and prosaic. Only -the background had rather the air of having become the foreground. - -“When they put that up to me I saw it was the proposition,” Mr. -Oates was saying. “I saw I’d got on to something better than my old -regulation turnover of eighty-five thousand dollars on each branch. I -reckoned I should save a hundred and twenty thousand dollars in the -long run by scrapping the old plant, even if I had to drop another -thirty thousand dollars on new works, where I’d get the raw material -for a red cent. I saw right away that was the point to freeze on to; -that I just got a chance to sell something I didn’t need to buy; -something that could be sort of given away like old match-ends. I -figured out it would be better by a long chalk to let the other guys -rear the stock and sell me their refuse for next to nix, so I could get -ahead with turning it into the goods. So I started in right away and -got there at the first go-off with an increase of seven hundred and -fifty-one thousand dollars.” - -“Seven hundred and fifty-one thousand dollars,” murmured Owen Hood. -“How soothing it all seems.” - -“I reckon those mutts didn’t get on to what they were selling me,” -continued Mr. Oates, “or didn’t have the pep to use it that way -themselves; for though it was the sure-enough hot tip, it isn’t -everybody would have thought of it. When I was in pork, of course, I -wanted the other guys out; but just now I wasn’t putting anything on -pork, but only on just that part of a pig I wanted and they didn’t -want. By notifying all your pig farmers I was able to import nine -hundred and twenty-five thousand pigs’ ears this fall, and I guess I -can get consignments all winter.” - -Hood had some little legal experience with long-winded commercial -witnesses, and he was listening by this time with a cocked eyebrow and -an attention much sharper than the dreamy ecstasy with which the poetic -Pierce was listening to the millionaire’s monologue, as if to the -wordless music of some ever-murmuring brook. - -“Excuse me,” said Hood earnestly, “but did I understand you to say -pigs’ ears?” - -“That is so, Mr. Hood,” said the American with great patience and -politeness. “I don’t know whether I gave you a sufficiently detailed -description for you to catch on to the proposition, but----” - -“Well,” murmured Pierce wistfully, “it sounded to me like a detailed -description.” - -“Pardon me,” said Hood, checking him with a frown. “I really want to -understand this proposition of Mr. Oates. Do I understand that you -bought pigs’ ears cheap, when the pigs were cut up for other purposes, -and that you thought you could use them for some purpose of your own?” - -“Sure!” said Mr. Enoch Oates, nodding. “And my purpose was about the -biggest thing in fancy goods ever done in the States. In the publicity -line there’s nothing like saying you can do what folks say can’t -be done. Flying in the face of proverbs instead of providence, I -reckon. It catches on at once. We got to work, and got out the first -advertisement in no time; just a blank space with: ‘We Can Do It’ in -the middle. Got folks wondering for a week what it was.” - -“I hope, sir,” said Pierce in a low voice, “that you will not carry -sound commercial principles so far as to keep us wondering for a week -what it was.” - -“Well,” said Oates, “we found we could subject the pigskin and bristles -to a new gelat’nous process for making artificial silk, and we figured -that publicity would do the rest. We came out with the second set of -posters: ‘She Wants it Now.’... ‘The Most Wonderful Woman on Earth -is waiting by the Old Fireside, hoping you’ll bring her home a Pig’s -Whisper Purse.’” - -“A purse!” gasped Hilary. - -“I see you’re on the notion,” proceeded the unmoved American. “We -called ’em Pig’s Whisper Purses after the smartest and most popular -poster we ever had: ‘There was a Lady Loved a Swine.’ You know the -nursery rhyme, I guess; featured a slap-up princess whispering in a -pig’s ear. I tell you there isn’t a smart woman in the States now that -can do without one of our pig-silk purses, and all because it upsets -the proverb. Why, see here----” - -Hilary Pierce had sprung wildly to his feet with a sort of stagger and -clutched at the American’s arm. - -“Found! Found!” he cried hysterically. “Oh, sir, I implore you to take -the chair! Do, do take the chair!” - -“Take the chair!” repeated the astonished millionaire, who was already -almost struggling in his grasp. “Really, gentlemen, I hadn’t supposed -the proceedings were so formal as to require a chairman, but in any -case----” - -It could hardly be said, however, that the proceedings were formal. -Mr. Hilary Pierce had the appearance of forcibly dragging Mr. Enoch -Oates in the direction of the large padded arm-chair, that had always -stood empty at the top of the club table, uttering cries which, though -incoherent, appeared to be partly apologetic. - -“No offence,” he gasped. “Hope no misunderstanding ... _Honoris causa_ -... you, you alone are worthy of that seat ... the club has found its -king and justified its title at last.” - -Here the Colonel intervened and restored order. Mr. Oates departed in -peace; but Mr. Hilary Pierce was still simmering. - -“And that is the end of our quiet, ordinary business man,” he cried. -“Such is the behaviour of our monochrome and unobtrusive background.” -His voice rose to a sort of wail. “And we thought we were dotty! We -deluded ourselves with the hope that we were pretty well off our -chump! Lord have mercy on us! American big business rises to a raving -idiocy compared with which we are as sane as the beasts of the field. -The modern commercial world is far madder than anything we can do to -satirize it.” - -“Well,” said the Colonel good-humouredly, “we’ve done some rather -ridiculous things ourselves.” - -“Yes, yes,” cried Pierce excitedly, “but we did them to make ourselves -ridiculous. That unspeakable man is wholly, serenely serious. He thinks -those maniacal monkey tricks are the normal life of man. Your argument -really answers itself. We did the maddest things we could think of, -meaning them to look mad. But they were nothing like so mad as what a -modern business man does in the way of business.” - -“Perhaps it’s the American business man,” said White, “who’s too keen -to see the humour of it.” - -“Nonsense,” said Crane. “Millions of Americans have a splendid sense of -humour.” - -“Then how fortunate are we,” said Pierce reverently, “through whose -lives this rare, this ineffable, this divine being has passed.” - -“Passed away for ever, I suppose,” said Hood with a sigh. “I fear the -Colonel must be our only background once more.” - -Colonel Crane was frowning thoughtfully, and at the last words his -frown deepened to disapproval. He puffed at his smouldering cigar and -then, removing it, said abruptly: - -“I suppose you fellows have forgotten how I came to be a background? I -mean, why I rather approve of people being backgrounds.” - -“I remember something you said a long time ago,” replied Hood. “Hilary -must have been in long-clothes at that time.” - -“I said I had found out something by going round the world,” said -Crane. “You young people think I am an old Tory; but remember I am -also an old traveller. Well, it’s part of the same thing. I’m a -traditionalist because I’m a traveller. I told you when I came back to -the club that I’d come back to the tribe. I told you that in all the -tribes of the world, the best man was the man true to his tribe. I told -you the best man was the man who wore a nose-ring where nose-rings were -worn.” - -“I remember,” said Owen Hood. - -“No, you forget,” said Crane rather gruffly. “You forget it when you -talk about Enoch Oates the American. I’m no politician, thank God, -and I shall look on with detachment if you dynamite him for being a -millionaire. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t think half so much of -money as old Normantowers, who thinks it’s too sacred to talk about. -But you’re not dynamiting him for being a millionaire. You’re simply -laughing at him for being an American. You’re laughing at him for being -national and normal, for being a good citizen, a good tribesman, for -wearing a nose-ring where nose-rings are worn.” - -“I say ... Kuklux, you know,” remonstrated Wilding White in his hazy -way. “Americans wouldn’t be flattered----” - -“Do you suppose you haven’t got a nose-ring?” cried Crane so sharply -that the clergyman started from his trance and made a mechanical -gesture as if to feel for that feature. “Do you suppose a man like you -doesn’t carry his nationality as plain as the nose on his face? Do you -think a man as hopelessly English as you are wouldn’t be laughed at in -America? You can’t be a good Englishman without being a good joke. The -better Englishman you are the more of a joke you are; but still it’s -better to be better. Nose-rings are funny to people who don’t wear ’em. -Nations are funny to people who don’t belong to ’em. But it’s better -to wear a nose-ring than to be a cosmopolitan crank who cuts off his -nose to spite his face.” - -This being by far the longest speech the Colonel had ever delivered -since the day he returned from his tropical travels long ago, his old -friends looked at him with a certain curiosity; even his old friends -hardly understood how much he had been roused in defence of a guest and -of his own deep delicacies about the point of hospitality. He went on -with undiminished warmth: - -“Well, it’s like that with poor Oates. He has, as we see it, certain -disproportions, certain insensibilities, certain prejudices that stand -out in our eyes like deformities. They offend you; they offend me, -possibly rather more than they do you. You young revolutionists think -you’re very liberal and universal; but the only result is that you’re -narrow and national without knowing it. We old fogeys know our tastes -are narrow and national; but we know they are only tastes. And we know, -at any rate I know, that Oates is far more likely to be an honest man, -a good husband and a good father, because he stinks of the rankest -hickory patch in the Middle West, than if he were some fashionable New -Yorker pretending to be an English aristocrat or playing the æsthete in -Florence.” - -“Don’t say a good husband,” pleaded Pierce with a faint shudder. “It -reminds me of the grand slap-up advertisement of the Pig’s Whisper. -How do you feel about that, my dear Colonel? The Most Wonderful Woman -on Earth Waiting by the Old Fireside----” - -“It makes my flesh creep,” replied Crane. “It chills me to the spine. -I feel I would rather die than have anything to do with it. But that -has nothing to do with my point. I don’t belong to the tribe who wear -nose-rings; nor to the tribe who talk through their noses.” - -“Well, aren’t you a little thankful for that?” asked White. - -“I’m thankful I can be fair in spite of it,” answered Crane. “When I -put a cabbage on my head, I didn’t expect people not to stare at it. -And I know that each one of us in a foreign land is a foreigner, and a -thing to be stared at.” - -“What I don’t understand about him,” said Hood, “is the sort of things -he doesn’t mind having stared at. How can people tolerate all that -vulgar, reeking, gushing commercial cant everywhere? How can a man talk -about the Old Fireside? It’s obscene. The police ought to interfere.” - -“And that’s just where you’re wrong,” said the Colonel. “It’s vulgar -enough and mad enough and obscene enough if you like. But it’s not -cant. I have travelled amongst these wild tribes, for years on end; and -I tell you emphatically it is not cant. And if you want to know, just -ask your extraordinary American friend about his own wife and his own -relatively Old Fireside. He won’t mind. That’s the extraordinary part -of it.” - -“What does all this really mean, Colonel?” asked Hilary Pierce. - -“It means, my boy,” answered the Colonel, “that I think you owe our -guest an apology.” - - * * * * * - -So it came about that there was an epilogue, as there had been a -prologue, to the drama of the entrance and exit of Mr. Enoch B. Oates; -an epilogue which in its turn became a prologue to the later dramas of -the League of the Long Bow. For the words of the Colonel had a certain -influence on the Captain, and the actions of the Captain had a certain -influence on the American millionaire; and so the whole machinery of -events was started afresh by that last movement over the nuts and wine, -when Colonel Crane had stirred moodily in his seat and taken his cigar -out of his mouth. - -Hilary Pierce was an aimable and even excessively optimistic young man -by temperament, in spite of his pugnacity; he would really have been -the last man in the world to wish to hurt the feelings of a harmless -stranger; and he had a deep and almost secret respect for the opinions -of the older soldier. So, finding himself soon afterwards passing -the great gilded gateways of the highly American hotel that was the -London residence of the American, he paused a moment in hesitation -and then went in and gave his name to various overpowering officials -in uniforms that might have been those of the German General Staff. -He was relieved when the large American came out to meet him with a -simple and lumbering affability, and offered his large limp hand as if -there had never been a shadow of misunderstanding. It was somehow borne -in upon Pierce that his own rather intoxicated behaviour that evening -had merely been noted down along with the architectural styles and -the mellow mediævalism of the pig-sty, as part of the fantasies of a -feudal land. All the antics of the Lunatic Asylum had left the American -traveller with the impression that similar parlour games were probably -being played that evening in all the parlours of England. Perhaps there -was something, after all, in Crane’s suggestion that every nation -assumes that every other nation is a sort of mild mad-house. - -Mr. Enoch Oates received his guest with great hospitality and pressed -on him cocktails of various occult names and strange colours, though he -himself partook of nothing but a regimen of tepid milk. - -Pierce fell into the confidence of Mr. Enoch Oates with a silent -swiftness that made his brain reel with bewilderment. He was staggered -like a man who had fallen suddenly through fifteen floors of a -sky-scraper and found himself in somebody’s bedroom. At the lightest -hint of the sort of thing to which Crane had alluded, the American -opened himself with an expansiveness that was like some gigantic -embrace. All the interminable tables of figures and calculations in -dollars had for the moment disappeared; yet Oates was talking in -the same easy and natural nasal drawl, very leisurely and a little -monotonous, as he said: - -“I’m married to the best and brightest woman God ever made, and I tell -you it’s her and God between them that have made me, and I reckon she -had the hardest part of it. We had nothing but a few sticks when I -started; and it was the way she stood by that gave me the heart to risk -even those on my own judgment of how things were going in the Street. I -counted on a rise in Pork, and if it hadn’t risen I’d have been broke -and I dare say in the jug. But she’s just wonderful. You should see -her.” - -He produced her photograph with a paralysing promptitude; it -represented a very regal lady dressed up to the nines, probably for the -occasion, with very brilliant eyes and an elaborate load of light hair. - -“‘I believe in your star, Enoch,’ she said; ‘you stick to Pork,’” said -Oates, with tender reminiscence, “and so we saw it through.” - -Pierce, who had been speculating with involuntary irreverence on -the extreme difficulty of conducting a love-affair or a sentimental -conversation in which one party had to address the other as Enoch, -felt quite ashamed of his cynicism when the Star of Pork shone with -such radiance in the eyes of his new friend. - -“It was a terrible time, but I stuck to Pork, sometimes feeling she -could see clearer than I could; and of course she was right, and -I’ve never known her wrong. Then came my great chance of making the -combination and freezing out competition; and I was able to give her -the sort of things she ought to have and let her take the lead as she -should. I don’t care for society much myself; but I’m often glad on a -late night at the office to ring her up and hear she’s enjoying it.” - -He spoke with a ponderous simplicity that seemed to disarm and crush -the criticism of a more subtle civilization. It was one of those things -that are easily seen to be absurd; but even after they are seen to be -absurd, they are still there. It may be, after all, that that is the -definition of the great things. - -“I reckon that’s what people mean by the romance of business,” -continued Oates, “and though my business got bigger and bigger, it -made me feel kinda pleased there had been a romance at the heart of -it. It had to get bigger, because we wanted to make the combination -water-tight all over the world. I guess I had to fix things up a bit -with your politicians. But Congress men are alike all the world over, -and it didn’t trouble me any.” - -There was a not uncommon conviction among those acquainted with Captain -Hilary Pierce that that ingenious young man was cracked. He did a great -many things to justify the impression; and in one sense certainly had -never shown any reluctance to make a fool of himself. But if he was a -lunatic, he was none the less a very English lunatic. And the notion of -talking about his most intimate affections, suddenly, to a foreigner -in an hotel, merely because the conversation had taken that turn, -was something that he found quite terrifying. And yet an instinct, -an impulse running through all these developments, told him that a -moment had come and that he must seize some opportunity that he hardly -understood. - -“Look here,” he said rather awkwardly, “I want to tell you something.” - -He looked down at the table as he continued. - -“You said just now you were married to the best woman in the world. -Well, curiously enough, so am I. It’s a coincidence that often happens. -But it’s a still more curious coincidence that, in our own quiet way, -we went in for Pork too. She kept pigs at the back of the little -country inn where I met her; and at one time it looked as if the pigs -might have to be given up. Perhaps the inn as well. Perhaps the wedding -as well. We were quite poor, as poor as you were when you started; and -to the poor those extra modes of livelihood are often life. We might -have been ruined; and the reason was, I gather, that you had gone in -for Pork. But after all ours was the real pork; pork that walked about -on legs. We made the bed for the pig and filled the inside of the pig; -you only bought and sold the name of the pig. You didn’t go to business -with a live little pig under your arm or walk down Wall Street followed -by a herd of swine. It was a phantom pig, the ghost of a pig, that -was able to kill our real pig and perhaps us as well. Can you really -justify the way in which your romance nearly ruined our romance? Don’t -you think there must be something wrong somewhere?” - -“Well,” said Oates after a very long silence, “that’s a mighty big -question and will take a lot of discussing.” - -But the end to which their discussion led must be left to reveal itself -when the prostrate reader has recovered sufficient strength to support -the story of The Unthinkable Theory of Professor Green, which those who -would endure to the end may read at some later date. - - - - -VI - -THE UNTHINKABLE THEORY OF PROFESSOR GREEN - - - - -VI - -THE UNTHINKABLE THEORY OF PROFESSOR GREEN - - -If the present passage in the chronicles of the Long Bow seems but a -side issue, an interlude and an idyll, a mere romantic episode lacking -that larger structural achievement which gives solidity and hard -actuality to the other stories, the reader is requested not to be hasty -in his condemnation; for in the little love story of Mr. Oliver Green -is to be found, as in a parable, the beginning of the final apotheosis -and last judgment of all these things. - -It may well begin on a morning when the sunlight came late but -brilliant, under the lifting of great clouds from a great grey sweep -of wolds that grew purple as they dipped again into distance. Much of -that mighty slope was striped and scored with ploughed fields, but a -rude path ran across it, along which two figures could be seen in full -stride outlined against the morning sky. - -They were both tall; but beyond the fact that they had both once been -professional soldiers, of rather different types and times, they had -very little in common. By their ages they might almost have been father -and son; and this would not have been contradicted by the fact that -the younger appeared to be talking all the time, in a high, confident -and almost crowing voice, while the elder only now and then put in a -word. But they were not father and son; strangely enough they were -really talking and walking together because they were friends. Those -who know only too well their proceedings as narrated elsewhere would -have recognized Colonel Crane, once of the Coldstream Guards, and -Captain Pierce, late of the Flying Corps. - -The young man appeared to be talking triumphantly about a great -American capitalist whom he professed to have persuaded to see the -error of his ways. He talked rather as if he had been slumming. - -“I’m very proud of it, I can tell you,” he said. “Anybody can produce -a penitent murderer. It’s something to produce a penitent millionaire. -And I do believe that poor Enoch Oates has seen the light (thanks to my -conversations at lunch); since I talked to him, Oates is another and a -better man.” - -“Sown his wild oats, in fact,” remarked Crane. - -“Well,” replied the other. “In a sense they were very quiet oats. -Almost what you might call Quaker Oats. He was a Puritan and a -Prohibitionist and a Pacifist and an Internationalist; in short, -everything that is in darkness and the shadow of death. But what you -said about him was quite right. His heart’s in the right place. It’s on -his sleeve. That’s why I preached the gospel to the noble savage and -made him a convert.” - -“But what did you convert him to?” inquired the other. - -“Private property,” replied Pierce promptly. “Being a millionaire he -had never heard of it. But when I explained the first elementary idea -of it in a simple form, he was quite taken with the notion. I pointed -out that he might abandon robbery on a large scale and create property -on a small scale. He felt it was very revolutionary, but he admitted -it was right. Well, you know he’d bought this big English estate out -here. He was going to play the philanthropist, and have a model estate -with all the regular trimmings; heads hygienically shaved by machinery -every morning; and the cottagers admitted once a month into their own -front gardens and told to keep off the grass. But I said to him: ‘If -you’re going to give things to people, why not give ’em? If you give -your friend a plant in a pot, you don’t send him an inspector from the -Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Vegetables to see he waters -it properly. If you give your friend a box of cigars, you don’t make -him write a monthly report of how many he smokes a day. Can’t you be -a little generous with your generosity? Why don’t you use your money -to make free men instead of to make slaves? Why don’t you give your -tenants their land and have done with it, or let ’em have it very -cheap?’ And he’s done it; he’s really done it. He’s created hundreds of -small proprietors, and changed the whole of this countryside. That’s -why I want you to come up and see one of the small farms.” - -“Yes,” said Colonel Crane, “I should like to see the farm.” - -“There’s a lot of fuss about it, too; there’s the devil of a row,” -went on the young man, in very high spirits. “Lots of big combines and -things are trying to crush the small farmers with all sorts of tricks; -they even complain of interference by an American. You can imagine how -much Rosenbaum Low and Goldstein and Guggenheimer must be distressed by -the notion of a foreigner interfering in England. I want to know how a -foreigner could interfere less than by giving back their land to the -English people and clearing out. They all put it on to me; and right -they are. I regard Oates as my property; my convert; captive of my bow -and spear.” - -“Captive of your Long Bow, I imagine,” said the Colonel. “I bet you -told him a good many things that nobody but a shrewd business man would -have been innocent enough to believe.” - -“If I use the Long Bow,” replied Pierce with dignity, “it is a weapon -with heroic memories proper to a yeoman of England. With what more -fitting weapon could we try to establish a yeomanry?” - -“There is something over there,” said Crane quietly, “that looks to me -rather like another sort of weapon.” - -They had by this time come in full sight of the farm buildings which -crowned the long slope; and beyond a kitchen-garden and an orchard -rose a thatched roof with a row of old-fashioned lattice windows under -it; the window at the end standing open. And out of this window at the -edge of the block of building protruded a big black object, rigid and -apparently cylindrical, thrust out above the garden and dark against -the morning daylight. - -“A gun!” cried Pierce involuntarily; “looks just like a howitzer; or is -it an anti-aircraft gun?” - -“Anti-airman gun, no doubt,” said Crane; “they heard you were coming -down and took precautions.” - -“But what the devil can he want with a gun?” muttered Pierce, peering -at the dark outline. - -“And who the devil is _he_, if it comes to that?” said the Colonel. - -“Why, that window,” explained Pierce. “That’s the window of the room -they’ve let to a paying guest, I know. Man of the name of Green, I -understand; rather a recluse, and I suppose some sort of crank.” - -“Not an anti-armament crank, anyhow,” said the Colonel. - -“By George,” said Pierce, whistling softly, “I wonder whether things -really have moved faster than we could fancy! I wonder whether it’s a -revolution or a civil war beginning after all. I suppose we are an army -ourselves; I represent the Air Force and you represent the infantry.” - -“You represent the infants,” answered the Colonel. “You’re too young -for this world; you and your revolutions! As a matter of fact, it isn’t -a gun, though it does look rather like one. I see now what it is.” - -“And what in the world is it?” asked his friend. - -“It’s a telescope,” said Crane. “One of those very big telescopes they -usually have in observatories.” - -“Couldn’t be partly a gun and partly a telescope?” pleaded Pierce, -reluctant to abandon his first fancy. “I’ve often seen the phrase -‘shooting stars,’ but perhaps I’ve got the grammar and sense of it -wrong. The young man lodging with the farmer may be following one of -the local sports--the local substitute for duck-shooting!” - -“What in the world are you talking about?” growled the other. - -“Their lodger may be shooting the stars,” explained Pierce. - -“Hope their lodger isn’t shooting the moon,” said the flippant Crane. - -As they spoke there came towards them through the green and twinkling -twilight of the orchard a young woman with copper-coloured hair and a -square and rather striking face, whom Pierce saluted respectfully as -the daughter of the house. He was very punctilious upon the point that -these new peasant farmers must be treated like small squires and not -like tenants or serfs. - -“I see your friend Mr. Green has got his telescope out,” he said. - -“Yes, sir,” said the girl. “They say Mr. Green is a great astronomer.” - -“I doubt if you ought to call me ‘sir,’” said Pierce reflectively. “It -suggests rather the forgotten feudalism than the new equality. Perhaps -you might oblige me by saying ‘Yes, citizen,’ then we could continue -our talk about Citizen Green on an equal footing. By the way, pardon -me, let me present Citizen Crane.” - -Citizen Crane bowed politely to the young woman without any apparent -enthusiasm for his new title; but Pierce went on: - -“Rather rum to call ourselves citizens when we’re all so glad to be -out of the city. We really want some term suitable to rural equality. -The Socialists have spoilt ‘Comrade’; you can’t be a comrade without -a Liberty tie and a pointed beard. Morris had a good notion of one -man calling another Neighbour. That sounds a little more rustic. I -suppose,” he added wistfully to the girl, “I suppose, I could not -induce you to call me Gaffer?” - -“Unless I’m mistaken,” observed Crane, “that’s your astronomer -wandering about in the garden. Think’s he’s a botanist, perhaps. -Appropriate to the name of Green.” - -“Oh, he often wanders in the garden and down to the meadow and the -cowsheds,” said the young woman. “He talks to himself a good deal, -explaining a great theory he’s got. He explains it to everybody he -meets, too. Sometimes he explains it to me when I’m milking the cow.” - -“Perhaps you can explain it to us?” said Pierce. - -“Not so bad as that,” she said, laughing. “It’s something like that -Fourth Dimension they talk about. But I’ve no doubt he’ll explain it to -you if you meet him.” - -“Not for me,” said Pierce. “I’m a simple peasant proprietor and ask -nothing but Three Dimensions and a Cow.” - -“Cow’s the Fourth Dimension, I suppose,” said Crane. - -“I must go and attend to the Fourth Dimension,” she said with a smile. - -“Peasants all live by patchwork, running two or three side-shows,” -observed Pierce. “Curious sort of livestock on the farm. Think of -people living on a cow and chickens and an astronomer.” - -As he spoke the astronomer approached along the path by which the girl -had just passed. His eyes were covered with huge horn spectacles of a -dim blue colour; for he was warned to save his eyesight for his starry -vigils. This gave a misleading look of morbidity to a face that was -naturally frank and healthy; and the figure, though stooping, was -stalwart. He was very absent-minded. Every now and then he looked at -the ground and frowned as if he did not like it. - -Oliver Green was a very young professor, but a very old young man. -He had passed from science as the hobby of a schoolboy to science as -the ambition of a middle-aged man without any intermediate holiday of -youth. Moreover, his monomania had been fixed and frozen by success; at -least by a considerable success for a man of his years. He was already -a fellow of the chief learned societies connected with his subject, -when there grew up in his mind the grand, universal, all-sufficing -Theory which had come to fill the whole of his life as the daylight -fills the day. If we attempted the exposition of that theory here, it -is doubtful whether the result would resemble daylight. Professor Green -was always ready to prove it; but if we were to set out the proof in -this place, the next four or five pages would be covered with closely -printed columns of figures brightened here and there by geometrical -designs, such as seldom form part of the text of a romantic story. -Suffice it to say that the theory had something to do with Relativity -and the reversal of the relations between the stationary and the -moving object. Pierce, the aviator, who had passed much of his time -on moving objects not without the occasional anticipation of bumping -into stationary objects, talked to Green a little on the subject. -Being interested in scientific aviation, he was nearer to the abstract -sciences than were his friends, Crane with his hobby of folklore or -Hood with his love of classic literature or Wilding White with his -reading of the mystics. But the young aviator frankly admitted that -Professor Green soared high into the heavens of the Higher Mathematics, -far beyond the flight of his little aeroplane. - -The professor had begun, as he always began, by saying that it was -quite easy to explain; which was doubtless true, as he was always -explaining it. But he often ended by affirming fallaciously that it was -quite easy to understand, and it would be an exaggeration to say that -it was always understood. Anyhow, he was just about to read his great -paper on his great theory at the great Astronomical Congress that was -to be held that year at Bath; which was one reason why he had pitched -his astronomical camp, or emplaced his astronomical gun, in the house -of Farmer Dale on the hills of Somerset. Mr. Enoch Oates could not -but feel the lingering hesitation of the landlord when he heard that -his protégés the Dales were about to admit an unknown stranger into -their household. But Pierce sternly reminded him that this paternal -attitude was a thing of the past and that a free peasant was free to -let lodging to a homicidal maniac if he liked. Nevertheless, Pierce -was rather relieved to find the maniac was only an astronomer; but -it would have been all the same if he had been an astrologer. Before -coming to the farm, the astronomer had set up his telescope in much -dingier places--in lodgings in Bloomsbury and the grimy buildings of a -Midland University. He thought he was, and to a great extent he was, -indifferent to his surroundings. But for all that the air and colour of -those country surroundings were slowly and strangely sinking into him. - -“The idea is simplicity itself,” he said earnestly, when Pierce rallied -him about the theory. “It is only the proof that is, of course, a -trifle technical. Put in a very crude and popular shape, it depends on -the mathematical formula for the inversion of the sphere.” - -“What we call turning the world upside-down,” said Pierce. “I’m all in -favour of it.” - -“Everyone knows the idea of relativity applied to motion,” went on the -professor. “When you run out of a village in a motor-car, you might say -that the village runs away from you.” - -“The village does run away when Pierce is out motoring,” remarked -Crane. “Anyhow, the villagers do. But he generally prefers to frighten -them with an aeroplane.” - -“Indeed?” said the astronomer with some interest. “An aeroplane -would make an even better working model. Compare the movement of an -aeroplane with what we call merely for convenience the fixity of the -fixed stars.” - -“I dare say they got a bit unfixed when Pierce bumped into them,” said -the Colonel. - -Professor Green sighed in a sad but patient spirit. He could not help -being a little disappointed even with the most intelligent outsiders -with whom he conversed. Their remarks were pointed but hardly to the -point. He felt more and more that he really preferred those who made -no remarks. The flowers and the trees made no remarks; they stood in -rows and allowed him to lecture to them for hours on the fallacies of -accepted astronomy. The cow made no remarks. The girl who milked the -cow made no remarks; or, if she did, they were pleasant and kindly -remarks, not intended to be clever. He drifted, as he had done many -times before, in the direction of the cow. - -The young woman who milked the cow was not in the common connotation -what is meant by milkmaid. Margery Dale was the daughter of a -substantial farmer already respected in that county. She had been to -school and learnt various polite things before she came back to the -farm and continued to do the thousand things that she could have taught -the schoolmasters. And something of this proportion or disproportion -of knowledge was dawning on Professor Green, as he stood staring at -the cow and talking, often in a sort of soliloquy. For he had a rather -similar sensation of a great many other things growing up thickly like -a jungle round his own particular being; impressions and implications -from all the girl’s easy actions and varied avocations. Perhaps he -began to have a dim suspicion that he was the schoolmaster who was -being taught. - -The earth and the sky were already beginning to be enriched with -evening; the blue was already almost a glow like apple-green behind the -line of branching apple trees; against it the bulk of the farm stood in -a darker outline, and for the first time he realized something quaint -or queer added to that outline by his own big telescope stuck up like a -gun pointed at the moon. Somehow it looked, he could not tell why, like -the beginning of a story. The hollyhocks also looked incredibly tall. -To see what he would have called “flowers” so tall as that seemed like -seeing a daisy or a dandelion as large as a lamp-post. He was positive -there was nothing exactly like it in Bloomsbury. These tall flowers -also looked like the beginning of a story--the story of Jack and the -Beanstalk. Though he knew little enough of what influences were slowly -sinking into him, he felt something apt in the last memory. Whatever -was moving within him was something very far back, something that came -before reading and writing. He had some dream, as from a previous -life, of dark streaks of field under stormy clouds of summer and the -sense that the flowers to be found there were things like gems. He was -in that country home that every cockney child feels he has always had -and never visited. - -“I have to read my paper to-night,” he said abruptly. “I really ought -to be thinking about it.” - -“I do hope it will be a success,” said the girl; “but I rather thought -you were always thinking about it.” - -“Well, I was--generally,” he said in a rather dazed fashion; and indeed -it was probably the first time that he had ever found himself fully -conscious of not thinking about it. Of what he was thinking about he -was by no means fully conscious. - -“I suppose you have to be awfully clever even to understand it,” -observed Margery Dale conversationally. - -“I don’t know,” he said, slightly stirred to the defensive. “I’m sure I -could make you see--I don’t mean you aren’t clever, of course; I mean -I’m quite sure you’re clever enough to see--to see anything.” - -“Only some sorts of things, I’m afraid,” she said, smiling. “I’m sure -your theory has got nothing to do with cows and milking-stools.” - -“It’s got to do with anything,” he said eagerly; “with everything, -in fact. It would be just as easy to prove it from stools and cows -as anything else. It’s really quite simple. Reversing the usual -mathematical formula, it’s possible to reach the same results in -reality by treating motion as a fixed point and stability as a form of -motion. You were told that the earth goes round the sun and the moon -goes round the earth. Well, in my formula, we first treat it as if the -sun went round the earth----” - -She looked up radiantly. “I always _thought_ it looked like that,” she -said emphatically. - -“And you will, of course, see for yourself,” he continued triumphantly, -“that by the same logical inversion we must suppose the earth to be -going round the moon.” - -The radiant face showed a shadow of doubt and she said “Oh!” - -“But any of the things you mention, the milking-stool or the cow -or what not, would serve the same purpose, since they are objects -generally regarded as stationary.” - -He looked up vaguely at the moon which was steadily brightening as vast -shadows spread over the sky. - -“Well, take those things you talk of,” he went on, moved by a -meaningless unrest and tremor. “You see the moon rise behind the woods -over there and sweep in a great curve through the sky and seem to set -again beyond the hill. But it would be just as easy to preserve the -same mathematical relations by regarding the moon as the centre of the -circle and the curve described by some such object as the cow----” - -She threw her head back and looked at him, with eyes blazing with -laughter that was not in any way mockery, but a childish delight at the -crowning coincidence of a fairy-tale. - -“Splendid!” she cried. “So the cow really does jump over the moon!” - -Green put up his hand to his hair; and after a short silence said -suddenly, like a man recalling a recondite Greek quotation: - -“Why, I’ve heard that somewhere. There was something else--‘The little -dog laughed----’” - -Then something happened, which was in the world of ideas much more -dramatic than the fact that the little dog laughed. The professor of -astronomy laughed. If the world of things had corresponded to the world -of ideas, the leaves of the apple tree might have curled up in fear -or the birds dropped out of the sky. It was rather as if the cow had -laughed. - -Following on that curt and uncouth noise was a silence; and then -the hand he had raised to his head abruptly rent off his big blue -spectacles and showed his staring blue eyes. He looked boyish and even -babyish. - -“I wondered whether you always wore them,” she said. “I should think -they made that moon of yours look blue. Isn’t there a proverb or -something about a thing happening once in a blue moon?” - -He threw the great goggles on the ground and broke them. - -“Good gracious,” she exclaimed, “you seem to have taken quite a -dislike to them all of a sudden. I thought you were going to wear them -till--well, till all is blue, as they say.” - -He shook his head. “All is beautiful,” he said. “You are beautiful.” - -The young woman was normally very lucid and decisive in dealing with -gentlemen who made remarks of that kind, especially when she concluded -that the gentlemen were not gentlemen. But for some reason in this case -it never occurred to her that she needed defence; possibly because -the other party seemed more defenceless than indefensible. She said -nothing. But the other party said a great deal, and his remarks did not -grow more rational. At that moment, far away in their inn-parlour in -the neighbouring town, Hood and Crane and the fellowship of the Long -Bow were actually discussing with considerable interest the meaning and -possibilities of the new astronomical theory. In Bath the lecture-hall -was being prepared for the exposition of the theory. The theorist had -forgotten all about it. - -“I have been thinking a good deal,” Hilary Pierce was saying, “about -that astronomical fellow who is going to lecture in Bath to-night. It -seemed to me somehow that he was a kindred spirit and that sooner or -later we were bound to get mixed up with him--or he was bound to get -mixed up with us. I don’t say it’s always very comfortable to get mixed -up with us. I feel in my bones that there is going to be a big row -soon. I feel as if I’d consulted an astrologer; as if Green were the -Merlin of our Round Table. Anyhow, the astrologer has an interesting -astronomical theory.” - -“Why?” inquired Wilding White with some surprise. “What have you got to -do with his theory?” - -“Because,” answered the young man, “I understand his astronomical -theory a good deal better than he thinks I do. And, let me tell you, -his astronomical theory is an astronomical allegory.” - -“An allegory?” repeated Crane. “What of?” - -“An allegory of us,” said Pierce; “and, as with many an allegory, we’ve -acted it without knowing it. I realized something about our history, -when he was talking, that I don’t think I’d ever thought of before.” - -“What in the world are you talking about?” demanded the Colonel. - -“His theory,” said Pierce in a meditative manner, “has got something to -do with moving objects being really stationary, and stationary objects -being really moving. Well, you always talk of me as if I were a moving -object.” - -“Heartbreaking object sometimes,” assented the Colonel with cordial -encouragement. - -“I mean,” continued Pierce calmly, “that you talk of me as if I were -always motoring too fast or flying too far. And what you say of me is -pretty much what most people say of you. Most sane people think we all -go a jolly lot too far. They think we’re a lot of lunatics out-running -the constable or looping the loop, and always up to some new nonsense. -But when you come to think of it, it’s we who always stay where we -are, and the rest of the world that’s always moving and shifting and -changing.” - -“Yes,” said Owen Hood; “I begin to have some dim idea of what you are -talking about.” - -“In all our little adventures,” went on the other, “we have all of us -taken up some definite position and stuck to it, however difficult -it might be; that was the whole fun of it. But our critics did not -stick to their own position--not even to their own conventional or -conservative position. In each one of the stories it was they who -were fickle, and we who were fixed. When the Colonel said he would -eat his hat, he did it; when he found it meant wearing a preposterous -hat, he wore it. But his neighbours didn’t even stick to their own -conviction that the hat was preposterous. Fashion is too fluctuating -and sensitive a thing; and before the end, half of them were wondering -whether they oughtn’t to have hats of the same sort. In that affair of -the Thames factory, Hood admired the old landscape and Hunter admired -the old landlords. But Hunter didn’t go on admiring the old landlords; -he deserted to the new landlords as soon as they got the land. His -conservatism was too snobbish to conserve anything. I wanted to import -pigs, and I went on importing pigs, though my methods of smuggling -might land me to a mad-house. But Enoch Oates, the millionaire, didn’t -go on importing pork; he went off at once on some new stunt, first on -the booming of his purses, and afterwards on the admirable stunt of -starting English farms. The business mind isn’t steadfast; even when it -can be turned the right way, it’s too easy to turn. And everything has -been like that, down to the little botheration about the elephant. The -police began to prosecute Mr. White, but they soon dropped it when Hood -showed them that he had some backing. Don’t you see that’s the moral -of the whole thing? The modern world is materialistic, but it isn’t -solid. It isn’t hard or stern or ruthless in pursuit of its purpose, or -all the things that the newspapers and novels say it is; and sometimes -actually praise it for being. Materialism isn’t like stone; it’s like -mud, and liquid mud at that.” - -“There’s something in what you say,” said Owen Hood, “and I should be -inclined to add something to it. On a rough reckoning of the chances in -modern England, I should say the situation is something like this. In -that dubious and wavering atmosphere it is very unlikely there would -ever be a revolution, or any very vital reform. But if there were, I -believe on my soul that it might be successful. I believe everything -else would be too weak and wobbly to stand up against it.” - -“I suppose that means,” said the Colonel, “that you’re going to do -something silly.” - -“Silliest thing I can think of,” replied Pierce cheerfully. “I’m going -to an astronomical lecture.” - -The degree of silliness involved in the experiment can be most -compactly and clearly stated in the newspaper report, at which the -friends of the experimentalists found themselves gazing with more than -their usual bewilderment on the following morning. The Colonel, sitting -at his club with his favourite daily paper spread out before him, was -regarding with a grave wonder a paragraph that began with the following -head-lines: - - “AMAZING SCENE AT SCIENTIFIC CONGRESS - - “LECTURER GOES MAD AND ESCAPES - - “A scene equally distressing and astonishing took place at the third - meeting of the Astronomical Society now holding its congress at Bath. - Professor Oliver Green, one of the most promising of the younger - astronomers, was set down in the syllabus to deliver a lecture on - ‘Relativity in Relation to Planetary Motion.’ About an hour before - the lecture, however, the authorities received a telegram from - Professor Green, altering the subject of his address on the ground - that he had just discovered a new star, and wished immediately to - communicate his discovery to the scientific world. Great excitement - and keen anticipation prevailed at the meeting, but these feelings - changed to bewilderment as the lecture proceeded. The lecturer - announced without hesitation the existence of a new planet attached - to one of the fixed stars, but proceeded to describe its geological - formation and other features with a fantastic exactitude beyond - anything yet obtained by way of the spectrum or the telescope. He was - understood to say that it produced life in an extravagant form, in - towering objects which constantly doubled or divided themselves until - they ended in flat filaments, or tongues of a bright green colour. He - was proceeding to give a still more improbable description of a more - mobile but equally monstrous form of life, resting on four trunks - or columns which swung in rotation, and terminating in some curious - curved appendages, when a young man in the front row, whose demeanour - had shown an increasing levity, called out abruptly: ‘Why, that’s - a cow!’ To this the professor, abandoning abruptly all pretence of - scientific dignity, replied by shouting in a voice like thunder: - ‘Yes, of course it’s a cow; and you fellows would never have noticed - a cow, even if she jumped over the moon!’ The unfortunate professor - then began to rave in the most incoherent manner, throwing his arms - about and shouting aloud that he and his fellow-scientists were all a - pack of noodles who had never looked at the world they were walking - on, which contained the most miraculous things. But the latter - part of his remarks, which appeared to be an entirely irrelevant - outburst in praise of the beauty of Woman, were interrupted by the - Chairman and the officials of the Congress, who called for medical - and constabulary interference. No less a person than Sir Horace - Hunter, who, although best known as a psycho-physiologist, has taken - all knowledge for his province and was present to show his interest - in astronomical progress, was able to certify on the spot that the - unfortunate Green was clearly suffering from dementia, which was - immediately corroborated by a local doctor, so that the unhappy man - might be removed without further scandal. - - “At this point, however, a still more extraordinary development - took place. The young man in the front row, who had several times - interrupted the proceedings with irrelevant remarks, sprang to his - feet, and loudly declaring that Professor Green was the only sane - man in the Congress, rushed at the group surrounding him, violently - hurled Sir Horace Hunter from the platform, and with the assistance - of a friend and fellow-rioter, managed to recapture the lunatic from - the doctors and the police, and carry him outside the building. - Those pursuing the fugitives found themselves at first confronted - with a new mystery, in the form of their complete disappearance. It - has since been discovered that they actually escaped by aeroplane; - the young man, whose name is said to be Pierce, being a well-known - aviator formerly connected with the Flying Corps. The other - young man, who assisted him and acted as pilot, has not yet been - identified.” - -Night closed and the stars stood out over Dale’s Farm; and the -telescope pointed at the stars in vain. Its giant lenses had vainly -mirrored the moon of which its owner had spoken in so vain a fashion; -but its owner did not return. Miss Dale was rather unaccountably -troubled by his absence, and mentioned it once or twice; after all, as -her family said, it was very natural that he should go to an hotel in -Bath for the night, especially if the revels of roystering astronomers -were long and late. “It’s no affair of ours,” said the farmer’s wife -cheerfully. “He is not a child.” But the farmer’s daughter was not -quite so sure on the point. - - * * * * * - -Next morning she rose even earlier than usual and went about her -ordinary tasks, which by some accident or other seemed to look more -ordinary than usual. In the blank morning hours, it was perhaps natural -that her mind should go back to the previous afternoon, when the -conduct of the astronomer could by no means be dismissed as ordinary. - -“It’s all very well to say he’s not a child,” she said to herself. -“I wish I were as certain he’s not an idiot. If he goes to an hotel, -they’ll cheat him.” - -The more angular and prosaic her own surroundings seemed in the -daylight, the more doubt she felt about the probable fate of the -moonstruck gentleman who looked at a blue moon through his blue -spectacles. She wondered whether his family or his friends were -generally responsible for his movements; for really he must be a -little dotty. She had never heard him talk about his family; and she -remembered a good many things he had talked about. She had never even -seen him talking to a friend, except once to Captain Pierce, when they -talked about astronomy. But the name of Captain Pierce linked itself up -rapidly with other and more relevant suggestions. Captain Pierce lived -at the Blue Boar on the other side of the down, having been married a -year or two before to the daughter of the innkeeper, who was an old -friend of the daughter of the farmer. They had been to the same school -in the neighbouring provincial town, and had once been, as the phrase -goes, inseparable. Perhaps friends ought to pass through the phase in -which they are inseparable to reach the phase in which they can safely -be separated. - -“Joan might know something about it,” she said to herself. “At least -her husband might know.” - -She turned back into the kitchen and began to rout things out for -breakfast; when she had done everything she could think of doing for -a family that had not yet put in an appearance, she went out again -into the garden and found herself at the same gate, staring at the -steep wooded hill that lay between the farm and the valley of the Blue -Boar. She thought of harnessing the pony; and then went walking rather -restlessly along the road over the hill. - -On the map it was only a few miles to the Blue Boar; and she was easily -capable of walking ten times the distance. But maps, like many other -scientific documents, are very inaccurate. The ridge that ran between -the two valleys was, relatively to that rolling plain, as definite as -a range of mountains. The path through the dark wood that lay just -beyond the farm began like a lane and then seemed to go up like a -ladder. By the time she had scaled it, under its continuous canopy of -low spreading trees, she had the sensation of having walked for a long -time. And when the ascent ended with a gap in the trees and a blank -space of sky, she looked over the edge like one looking into another -world. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Enoch Oates, in his more expansive moments, had been known to -allude to what he called God’s Great Prairies. Mr. Rosenbaum Low, -having come to London from, or through, Johannesburg, often referred -in his imperialistic speeches to the “illimitable veldt.” But neither -the American prairie nor the African veldt really looks any larger, or -could look any larger, than a wide English vale seen from a low English -hill. Nothing can be more distant than the distance; the horizon or -the line drawn by heaven across the vision of man. Nothing is so -illimitable as that limit. Within our narrow island there is a whole -series of such infinities; as if the island itself could contain seven -seas. As she looked out over that new landscape, the soul seemed to be -slaked and satisfied with immensity and, by a paradox, to be filled -at last with emptiness. All things seemed not only great but growing -in greatness. She could fancy that the tall trees standing up in the -sunlight grew taller while she looked at them. The sun was rising and -it seemed as if the whole world rose with it. Even the dome of heaven -seemed to be lifting slowly; as if the very sky were a skirt drawn up -and disappearing into the altitudes of light. - -The vast hollow below her was coloured as variously as a map in an -atlas. Fields of grass or grain or red earth seemed so far away that -they might have been the empires and kingdoms of a world newly created. -But she could already see on the brow of a hill above the pine-woods -the pale scar of the quarry and below it the glittering twist in the -river where stood the inn of the Blue Boar. As she drew nearer and -nearer to it she could see more and more clearly a green triangular -field with tiny black dots, which were little black pigs; and another -smaller dot, which was a child. Something like a wind behind her or -within her, that had driven her over the hills, seemed to sweep all the -long lines of that landslide of a landscape, so that they pointed to -that spot. - -As the path dropped to the level and she began to walk by farms and -villages, the storm in her mind began to settle and she recovered the -reasonable prudence with which she had pottered about her own farm. -She even felt some responsibility and embarrassment about troubling -her friend by coming on so vague an errand. But she told herself -convincingly enough that after all she was justified. One would not -normally be alarmed about a strayed lodger as if he were a lion escaped -from a menagerie. But she had after all very good reason for regarding -this lion as rather a fearful wildfowl. His way of talking had been so -eccentric that everybody for miles round would have agreed, if they -had heard him, that he had a tile loose. She was very glad they had -not heard him; but their imaginary opinion fortified her own. They had -a duty in common humanity; they could not let a poor gentleman of -doubtful sanity disappear without further inquiry. - -She entered the inn with a firm step and hailed her friend with -something of that hearty cheerfulness that is so unpopular in the early -riser. She was rather younger and by nature rather more exuberant than -Joan; and Joan had already felt the drag and concentration of children. -But Joan had not lost her rather steely sense of humour, and she heard -the main facts of her friend’s difficulty with a vigilant smile. - -“We should rather like to know what has happened,” said the visitor -with vague carelessness. “If anything unpleasant had happened, people -might even blame us, when we knew he was like that.” - -“Like what?” asked Joan smiling. - -“Why, a bit off, I suppose we must say,” answered the other. “The -things he said to me about cows and trees and having found a new star -were really----” - -“Well, it’s rather lucky you came to me,” said Joan quietly. “For I -don’t believe you’d have found anybody else on the face of the earth -who knows exactly where he is now.” - -“And where is he?” - -“Well, he’s not on the face of the earth,” said Joan Hardy. - -“You don’t mean he’s--dead?” asked the other in an unnatural voice. - -“I mean he’s up in the air,” said Joan, “or, what is often much the -same thing, he is with my husband. Hilary rescued him when they were -just going to nab him, and carried him off in an aeroplane. He says -they’d better hide in the clouds for a bit. You know the way he talks; -of course, they do come down every now and then when it’s safe.” - -“Escaped! Nabbed him! Safe!” ejaculated the other young woman with -round eyes. “What in the world does it all mean?” - -“Well,” replied her friend, “he seems to have said the same sort of -things that he said to you to a whole roomful of scientific men at -Bath. And, of course, the scientific men all said he was mad; I suppose -that’s what scientific men are for. So they were just going to take him -away to an asylum, when Hilary----” - -The farmer’s daughter rose in a glory of rage that might have seemed to -lift the roof, as the great sunrise had seemed to lift the sky. - -“Take him away!” she cried. “How dare they talk about such things? -How dare they say he is mad? It’s they who must be mad to say such -stuff! Why, he’s got more brains in his boots than they have in all -their silly old bald heads knocked together--and I’d like to knock ’em -together! Why, they’d all smash like egg-shells, and he’s got a head -like cast-iron. Don’t you know he’s beaten all the old duffers at their -own business, of stars and things? I expect they’re all jealous; it’s -just what I should have expected of them.” - -The fact that she was entirely unacquainted with the names, and -possibly the existence, of these natural philosophers did not arrest -the vigorous word-painting with which she completed their portraits. -“Nasty spiteful old men with whiskers,” she said, “all bunched together -like so many spiders and weaving dirty cobwebs to catch their betters; -of course, it’s all a conspiracy. Just because they’re all mad and hate -anybody who’s quite sane.” - -“So you think he’s quite sane?” asked her hostess gravely. - -“Sane? What do you mean? Of course he’s quite sane,” retorted Margery -Dale. - -With a mountainous magnanimity Joan was silent. Then after a pause she -said: - -“Well, Hilary has taken his case in hand and your friend’s safe for -the present; Hilary generally brings things off, however queer they -sound. And I don’t mind telling you in confidence that he’s bringing -that and a good many other things off, rather big things, just now. You -can’t keep him from fighting whatever you do; and he seems to be out -just now to fight everybody. So I shouldn’t wonder if you saw all your -old gentleman’s heads knocked together after all. There are rather big -preparations going on; that friend of his named Blair is for ever going -and coming with his balloons and things; and I believe something will -happen soon on a pretty large scale, perhaps all over England.” - -“Will it?” asked Miss Dale in an absent-minded manner (for she was -sadly deficient in civic and political sense). “Is that your Tommy out -there?” - -And they talked about the child and then about a hundred entirely -trivial things; for they understood each other perfectly. - -And if there are still things the reader fails to understand, if (as -seems almost incredible) there are things that he wishes to understand, -then it can only be at the heavy price of studying the story of the -Unprecedented Architecture of Commander Blair; and with that, it is -comforting to know, the story of all these things will be drawing near -its explanation and its end. - - - - -VII - -THE UNPRECEDENTED ARCHITECTURE OF COMMANDER BLAIR - - - - -VII - -THE UNPRECEDENTED ARCHITECTURE OF COMMANDER BLAIR - - -The Earl of Eden had become Prime Minister for the third time, and -his face and figure were therefore familiar in the political cartoons -and even in the public streets. His yellow hair and lean and springy -figure gave him a factitious air of youth; but his face on a closer -study looked lined and wrinkled and gave almost a shock of decrepitude. -He was in truth a man of great experience and dexterity in his own -profession. He had just succeeded in routing the Socialist Party -and overthrowing the Socialist Government, largely by the use of -certain rhymed mottoes and maxims which he had himself invented with -considerable amusement. His great slogan of “Don’t Nationalize but -Rationalize” was generally believed to have led him to victory. But at -the moment when this story begins he had other things to think of. He -had just received an urgent request for a consultation from three of -his most prominent supporters--Lord Normantowers, Sir Horace Hunter, -O.B.E., the great advocate of scientific politics, and Mr. R. Low, the -philanthropist. They were confronted with a problem, and their problem -concerned the sudden madness of an American millionaire. - -The Prime Minister was not unacquainted with American millionaires, -even those whose conduct suggested that they were hardly representative -of a normal or national type. There was the great Grigg, the -millionaire inventor, who had pressed upon the War Office a scheme -for finishing the War at a blow; it consisted of electrocuting the -Kaiser by wireless telegraphy. There was Mr. Napper, of Nebraska, whose -negotiations for removing Shakespeare’s Cliff to America as a symbol of -Anglo-Saxon unity were unaccountably frustrated by the firm refusal of -the American Republic to send us Plymouth Rock in exchange. And there -was that charming and cultured Bostonian, Colonel Hoopoe, whom all -England welcomed in his crusade for Purity and the League of the Lily, -until England discovered with considerable surprise that the American -Ambassador and all respectable Americans flatly refused to meet the -Colonel, whose record at home was that of a very narrow escape from -Sing-Sing. - -But the problem of Enoch Oates, who had made his money in pork, was -something profoundly different. As Lord Eden’s three supporters eagerly -explained to him, seated round a garden-table at his beautiful country -seat in Somerset, Mr. Oates had done something that the maddest -millionaire had never thought of doing before. Up to a certain point -he had proceeded in a manner normal to such a foreigner. He had -purchased amid general approval an estate covering about a quarter of -a county; and it was expected that he would make it a field for some -of those American experiments in temperance or eugenics for which the -English agricultural populace offer a sort of virgin soil. Instead -of that, he suddenly went mad and made a present of his land to his -tenants; so that by an unprecedented anomaly the farms became the -property of the farmers. That an American millionaire should take -away English things from England, English rents, English relics, -English pictures, English cathedrals or cliffs of Dover, was a natural -operation to which everybody was by this time accustomed. But that an -American millionaire should give English land to English people was an -unwarrantable interference and tantamount to an alien enemy stirring up -revolution. Enoch Oates had therefore been summoned to the Council, and -sat scowling at the table as if he were in the dock. - -“Results most deplorable already,” said Sir Horace Hunter, in his -rather loud voice. “Give you an example, my lord; people of the name -of Dale in Somerset took in a lunatic as a lodger. May have been a -homicidal maniac for all I know; some do say he had a great cannon or -culverin sticking out of his bedroom window. But with no responsible -management of the estate, no landlord, no lawyer, no educated person -anywhere, there was nothing to prevent their letting the bedroom to a -Bengal tiger. Anyhow, the man was mad, rushed raving on to the platform -at the Astronomical Congress talking about Lovely Woman and the cow -that jumped over the moon. That damned agitator Pierce, who used to be -in the Flying Corps, was in the hall, and made a riot and carried the -crazy fellow off in an aeroplane. That’s the sort of thing you’ll have -happening all over the place if these ignorant fellows are allowed to -do just as they like.” - -“It is quite true,” said Lord Normantowers. “I could give many other -examples. They say that Owen Hood, another of these eccentrics, has -actually bought one of these little farms and stuck it all round with -absurd battlements and a moat and drawbridge, with the motto ‘The -Englishman’s House is his Castle.’” - -“I think,” said the Prime Minister quietly, “that however English -the Englishman may be, he will find his castle is a castle in Spain; -not to say a castle in the air. Mr. Oates,” he said, addressing very -courteously the big brooding American at the other end of the table, -“please do not imagine that I cannot sympathize with such romances, -although they are only in the air. But I think in all sincerity that -you will find they are unsuited to the English climate. _Et ego in -Arcadia_, you know; we have all had such dreams of all men piping in -Arcady. But after all, you have already paid the piper; and if you are -wise, I think you can still call the tune.” - -“Gives me great gratification to say it’s too late,” growled Oates. “I -want them to learn to play and pay for themselves.” - -“But you want them to learn,” said Lord Eden gently, “and I should not -be in too much of a hurry to call it too late. It seems to me that the -door is still open for a reasonable compromise; I understand that the -deed of gift, considered as a legal instrument, is still the subject of -some legal discussion and may well be subject to revision. I happened -to be talking of it yesterday with the law officers of the Crown; and I -am sure that the least hint that you yourself----” - -“I take it you mean,” said Mr. Oates with great deliberation, “that -you’ll tell your lawyers it’ll pay them to pick a hole in the deal.” - -“That is what we call the bluff Western humour,” said Lord Eden, -smiling, “but I only mean that we do a great deal in this country by -reconsideration and revision. We make mistakes and unmake them. We have -a phrase for it in our history books; we call it the flexibility of an -unwritten constitution.” - -“We have a phrase for it too,” said the American reflectively. “We call -it graft.” - -“Really,” cried Normantowers, a little bristly man, with sudden -shrillness, “I did not know you were so scrupulous in your own methods.” - -“Motht unthcrupulouth,” said Mr. Low virtuously. - -Enoch Oates rose slowly like an enormous leviathan rising to the -surface of the sea; his large sallow face had never changed in -expression; but he had the air of one drifting dreamily away. - -“Wal,” he said, “I dare say it’s true I’ve done some graft in my time, -and a good many deals that weren’t what you might call modelled on the -Sermon on the Mount. But if I smashed people, it was when they were -all out to smash me; and if some of ’em were poor, they were the sort -that were ready to shoot or knife or blow me to bits. And I tell you, -in my country the whole lot of you would be liable to be lynched or -tarred and feathered to-morrow, if you talked about lawyers taking away -people’s land when once they’d got it. Maybe the English climate’s -different, as you say; but I’m going to see it through. As for you, Mr. -Rosenbaum----” - -“My name is Low,” said the philanthropist. “I cannot thee why anyone -should object to uthing my name.” - -“Not on your life,” said Mr. Oates affably. “Seems to me a pretty -appropriate name.” - -He drifted heavily from the room, and the four other men were left, -staring at a riddle. - -“He’s going on with it, or, rather, they’re going on with it,” groaned -Horace Hunter. “And what the devil is to be done now?” - -“It really looks as if he were right in calling it too late,” said Lord -Normantowers bitterly. “I can’t think of anything to be done.” - -“I can,” said the Prime Minister. They all looked at him; but none of -them could read the undecipherable subtleties in his old and wrinkled -face under his youthful yellow hair. - -“The resources of civilization are not exhausted,” he said grimly. -“That’s what the old governments used to say when they started shooting -people. Well, I could understand you gentlemen feeling inclined to -shoot people now. I suppose it seems to you that all your power in -the State, which you wield with such public spirit of course; all Sir -Horace’s health reforms, the Normantowers’s new estate, and so on, -are all broken to bits, to rotten little bits of rusticity. What’s to -become of a governing class if it doesn’t hold all the land, eh? Well, -I’ll tell you. I know the next move, and the time has come to take it.” - -“But what is it?” demanded Sir Horace. - -“The time has come,” said the Prime Minister, “to Nationalize the Land.” - -Sir Horace Hunter rose from his chair, opened his mouth, shut it, and -sat down again, all with what he himself might have called a reflex -action. - -“But that is Socialism!” cried Lord Normantowers, his eyes standing out -of his head. - -“True Socialism, don’t you think?” mused the Prime Minister. “Better -call it True Socialism; just the sort of thing to be remembered at -elections. Theirs is Socialism, and ours is True Socialism.” - -“Do you really mean, my lord,” cried Hunter in a heat of sincerity -stronger than the snobbery of a lifetime, “that you are going to -support the Bolshies?” - -“No,” said Eden, with the smile of a sphinx. “I mean the Bolshies are -going to support me. Idiots!” - -After a silence, he added in a more wistful tone: - -“Of course, as a matter of sentiment, it is a little sad. All our fine -old English castles and manors, the homes of the gentry ... they will -become public property, like post offices, I suppose. When I think -of the happy hours I have myself passed at Normantowers--” He smiled -across at the nobleman of that name and went on. “And Sir Horace has -now, I believe, the joy of living in Warbridge Castle--fine old place. -Dear me, yes, and I think Mr. Low has a castle, though the name escapes -me.” - -“Rosewood Castle,” said Mr. Low rather sulkily. - -“But I say,” cried Sir Horace, rising, “what becomes of ‘Don’t -Nationalize but Rationalize’?” - -“I suppose,” replied Eden lightly, “it will have to be ‘Don’t -Rationalize but Nationalize.’ It comes to the same thing. Besides, -we can easily get a new motto of some sort. For instance, we, after -all, are the patriotic party, the national party. What about ‘Let the -Nationalists Nationalize’?” - -“Well, all I can say is--” began Normantowers explosively. - -“Compensation, there will be compensation, of course,” said the Prime -Minister soothingly; “a great deal can be done with compensation. If -you will all turn up here this day week, say at four o’clock, I think I -can lay all the plans before you.” - -When they did turn up next week and were shown again into the Prime -Minister’s sunny garden, they found that the plans were, indeed, laid -before them; for the table that stood on the sunny lawn was covered -with large and small maps and a mass of official documents. Mr. Eustace -Pym, one of the Prime Minister’s numerous private secretaries, was -hovering over them, and the Prime Minister himself was sitting at the -head of the table studying one of them with an intelligent frown. - -“I thought you’d like to hear the terms of the arrangements,” he said. -“I’m afraid we must all make sacrifices in the cause of progress.” - -“Oh, progress be----” cried Normantowers, losing patience. “I want to -know if you really mean that my estate----” - -“It comes under the department of Castle and Abbey Estates in Section -Four,” said Lord Eden, referring to the paper before him. “By the -provisions of the new Bill the public control in such cases will be -vested in the Lord-Lieutenant of the County. In the particular case of -your castle--let me see--why, yes, of course, you are Lord-Lieutenant -of that county.” - -Little Lord Normantowers was staring, with his stiff hair all standing -on end; but a new look was dawning in his shrewd though small-featured -face. - -“The case of Warbridge Castle is different,” said the Prime Minister. -“It happens unfortunately to stand in a district desolated by all -the recent troubles about swine-fever, touching which the Health -Controller” (here he bowed to Sir Horace Hunter) “has shown such -admirable activity. It has been necessary to place the whole of this -district in the hands of the Health Controller, that he may study any -traces of swine-fever that may be found in the Castle, the Cathedral, -the Vicarage, and so on. So much for that case, which stands somewhat -apart; the others are mostly normal. Rosenbaum Castle--I should say -Rosewood Castle--being of a later date, comes under Section Five, -and the appointment of a permanent Castle Custodian is left to the -discretion of the Government. In this case the Government has decided -to appoint Mr. Rosewood Low to the post, in recognition of his local -services to social science and economics. In all these cases, of -course, due compensation will be paid to the present owners of the -estates, and ample salaries and expenses of entertainment paid to the -new officials, that the places may be kept up in a manner worthy of -their historical and national character.” - -He paused, as if for cheers, and Sir Horace was vaguely irritated into -saying: “But look here, my castle----” - -“Damn it all!” said the Prime Minister, with his first flash of -impatience and sincerity. “Can’t you see you’ll get twice as much as -before? First you’ll be compensated for losing your castle, and then -you’ll be paid for keeping it.” - -“My lord,” said Lord Normantowers humbly, “I apologize for anything -I may have said or suggested. I ought to have known I stood in the -presence of a great English statesman.” - -“Oh, it’s easy enough,” said Lord Eden frankly. “Look how easily we -remained in the saddle, in spite of democratic elections; how we -managed to dominate the Commons as well as the Lords. It’ll be the same -with what they call Socialism. We shall still be there; only we shall -be called bureaucrats instead of aristocrats.” - -“I see it all now!” cried Hunter, “and by Heaven, it’ll be the end of -all this confounded demagogy of Three Acres and a Cow.” - -“I think so,” said the Prime Minister with a smile; and began to fold -up the large maps. - -As he was folding up the last and largest, he suddenly stopped and said: - -“Hallo!” - -A letter was lying in the middle of the table; a letter in a sealed -envelope, and one which he evidently did not recognize as any part of -his paper paraphernalia. - -“Where did this letter come from?” he asked rather sharply. “Did you -put it here, Eustace?” - -“No,” said Mr. Pym staring. “I never saw it before. It didn’t come with -your letters this morning.” - -“It didn’t come by post at all,” said Lord Eden; “and none of the -servants brought it in. How the devil did it get out here in the -garden?” - -He ripped it open with his finger and remained for some time staring in -mystification at its contents. - - WELKIN CASTLE, - Sept. 4th, 19--. - - “DEAR LORD EDEN,--As I understand you are making public provision - for the future disposal of our historic national castles, such as - Warbridge Castle, I should much appreciate any information about your - intentions touching Welkin Castle, my own estate, as it would enable - me to make my own arrangements.--Yours very truly, - - “WELKYN OF WELKIN.” - -“Who is Welkyn?” asked the puzzled politician; “he writes as if he knew -me; but I can’t recall him at the moment. And where is Welkin Castle? -We must look at the maps again.” - -But though they looked at the maps for hours, and searched Burke, -Debrett, “Who’s Who,” the atlas and every other work of reference, they -could come upon no trace of that firm but polite country gentleman. - -Lord Eden was a little worried, because he knew that curiously -important people could exist in a corner in this country, and suddenly -emerge from their corner to make trouble. He knew it was very important -that his own governing class should stand in with him in this great -public change (and private understanding), and that no rich eccentric -should be left out and offended. But although he was worried to that -extent, it is probable that his worry would soon have faded from his -mind if it had not been for something that happened some days later. - -Going out into the same garden to the same table, with the more -agreeable purpose of taking tea there, he was amazed to find another -letter, though this was lying not on the table but on the turf just -beside it. It was unstamped like the other and addressed in the same -handwriting; but its tone was more stern. - - WELKIN CASTLE, - Oct. 6th, 19--. - - “MY LORD,--As you seem to have decided to continue your sweeping - scheme of confiscation, as in the case of Warbridge Castle, without - the slightest reference to the historic and even heroic claims and - traditions of Welkin Castle, I can only inform you that I shall - defend the fortress of my fathers to the death. Moreover, I have - decided to make a protest of a more public kind; and when you next - hear from me it will be in the form of a general appeal to the - justice of the English people.--Yours truly, - - “WELKYN OF WELKIN.” - -The historic and even heroic traditions of Welkin Castle kept a dozen -of the Prime Minister’s private secretaries busy for a week, looking -up encyclopædias and chronicles and books of history. But the Prime -Minister himself was more worried about another problem. How did these -mysterious letters get into the house, or rather into the garden? None -of them came by post and none of the servants knew anything whatever -about them. Moreover, the Prime Minister, in an unobtrusive way, was -very carefully guarded. Prime Ministers always are, but he had been -especially protected ever since the Vegetarians a few years before had -gone about killing everybody who believed in killing animals. There -were always plain-clothes policemen at every entrance of his house -and garden. And from their testimony it would appear certain that the -letter could not have got into the garden; but for the trifling fact -that it was lying there on the garden-table. Lord Eden cogitated in a -grim fashion for some time; then he said as he rose from his chair: - -“I think I will have a talk to our American friend Mr. Oates.” - -Whether from a sense of humour or a sense of justice, Lord Eden -summoned Enoch Oates before the same special jury of three; or -summoned them before him, as the case may be. For it was even more -difficult than before to read the exact secret of Eden’s sympathies or -intentions; he talked about a variety of indifferent subjects leading -up to that of the letters, which he treated very lightly. Then he said -quite suddenly: - -“Do you know anything about those letters, by the way?” - -The American presented his poker face to the company for some time -without reply. Then he said: - -“And what makes you think I know anything about them?” - -“Because,” said Horace Hunter, breaking in with uncontrollable warmth, -“we know you’re hand and glove with all those lunatics in the League of -the Long Bow who are kicking up all this shindy.” - -“Well,” said Oates calmly, “I’ll never deny I like some of their ways. -I like live wires myself; and, after all, they’re about the liveliest -thing in this old country. And I’ll tell you more. I like people who -take trouble; and, believe me, they do take trouble. You say they’re -all nuts; but I reckon there really is method in their madness. They -take trouble to keep those crazy vows of theirs. You spoke about the -fellows who carried off the astronomer in an aeroplane. Well, I know -Bellew Blair, the man who worked with Pierce in that stunt, and believe -me he’s not a man to be sniffed at. He’s one of the first experts in -aeronautics in the country; and if he’s gone over to them, it means -there’s something in their notion for a scientific intellect to take -hold of. It was Blair that worked that pig’s stunt for Hilary Pierce; -made a great gasbag shaped like a sow and gave all the little pigs -parachutes.” - -“Well, there you are,” cried Hunter. “Of all the lunacy----” - -“I remember Commander Blair in the War,” said the Prime Minister -quietly. “Bellows Blair, they called him. He did excellent expert work. -Some new scheme with dirigible balloons. But I was only going to ask -Mr. Oates whether he happens to know where Welkin Castle is.” - -“Must be somewhere near here,” suggested Normantowers, “as the letters -seem to come by hand.” - -“Well, I don’t know,” said Enoch Oates doubtfully. “I know a man living -in Ely, who had one of those letters delivered by hand. And I know -another near Land’s End who thought the letter must have come from -somebody living near. As you say, they all seem to come by hand.” - -“By what hand?” asked the Prime Minister, with a queer, grim expression. - -“Mr. Oates,” said Lord Normantowers firmly, “where _is_ Welkin Castle?” - -“Why, it’s everywhere, in a manner of speaking,” said Mr. Oates -reflectively. “It’s anywhere, anyhow. Gee--!” he broke off suddenly: -“Why, as a matter of fact, it’s here!” - -“Ah,” said the Prime Minister quietly, “I thought we should see -something if we watched here long enough! You didn’t think I kept you -hanging about here only to ask Mr. Oates questions that I knew the -answer to.” - -“What do you mean? Thought we would see what?” - -“Where the unstamped letters come from,” replied Lord Eden. - -Luminous and enormous, there heaved up above the garden trees something -that looked at first like a coloured cloud; it was flushed with light -such as lies on clouds opposite the sunset, a light at once warm -and wan; and it shone like an opaque flame. But as it came closer -it grew more and more incredible. It took on solid proportions and -perspective, as if a cloud could brush and crush the dark tree-tops. It -was something never seen before in the sky; it was a cubist cloud. Men -gazing at such a sunset cloudland often imagine they see castles and -cities of an almost uncanny completeness. But there would be a possible -point of completeness at which they would cry aloud, or perhaps shriek -aloud, as at a sign in heaven; and that completeness had come. The -big luminous object that sailed above the garden was outlined in -battlements and turrets like a fairy castle; but with an architectural -exactitude impossible in any cloudland. With the very look of it a -phrase and a proverb leapt into the mind. - -“There, my lord!” cried Oates, suddenly lifting his nasal and drawling -voice and pointing, “there’s that dream you told me about. There’s your -castle in the air.” - -As the shadow of the flying thing travelled over the sun-lit lawn, -they looked up and saw for the first time that the lower part of the -edifice hung downwards like the car of a great balloon. They remembered -the aeronautical tricks of Commander Blair and Captain Pierce and the -model of the monstrous pig. As it passed over the table a white speck -detached itself and dropped from the car. It was a letter. - -The next moment the white speck was followed by a shower that was like -a snowstorm. Countless letters, leaflets, and scraps of paper were -littered all over the lawn. The guests seemed to stand staring wildly -in a wilderness of waste-paper; but the keen and experienced eyes of -Lord Eden recognized the material which, in political elections, is -somewhat satirically called “literature.” - -It took the twelve private secretaries some time to pick them all up -and make the lawn neat and tidy again. On examination they proved to -be mainly of two kinds: one a sort of electioneering pamphlet of the -League of the Long Bow, and the other a somewhat airy fantasy about -private property in air. The most important of the documents, which -Lord Eden studied more attentively, though with a grim smile, began -with the sentence in large letters: - - “An Englishman’s House Is No Longer His Castle On The Soil Of - England. If It Is To Be His Castle, It Must Be A Castle In The Air. - - “If There Seem To Be Something Unfamiliar And Even Fanciful In The - Idea, We Reply That It Is Not Half So Fantastic To Own Your Own - Houses In The Clouds As Not To Own Your Own Houses On The Earth.” - -Then followed a passage of somewhat less solid political value, in -which the acute reader might trace the influence of the poetical Mr. -Pierce rather than the scientific Mr. Blair. It began “They Have Stolen -the Earth; We Will Divide the Sky.” But the writer followed this with a -somewhat unconvincing claim to have trained rooks and swallows to hover -in rows in the air to represent the hedges of “The blue meadows of the -new realm,” and he was so obliging as to accompany the explanation -with diagrams of space showing these exact ornithological boundaries -in dotted lines. There were other equally scientific documents dealing -with the treatment of clouds, the driving of birds to graze on insects, -and so on. The whole of this section concluded with the great social -and economic slogan: “Three Acres and a Crow.” - -But when Lord Eden read on, his attention appeared graver than this -particular sort of social reconstruction would seem to warrant. The -writer of the pamphlet resumed: - - “Do not be surprised if there seems to be something topsy-turvy in - the above programme. That topsy-turvydom marks the whole of our - politics. It may seem strange that the air which has always been - public should become private, when the land which has always been - private has become public. We answer that this is exactly how things - really stand to-day in the matter of all publicity and privacy. - Private things are indeed being made public. But public things are - being kept private. - - “Thus we all had the pleasure of seeing in the papers a picture of - Sir Horace Hunter, O.B.E., smiling in an ingratiating manner at his - favourite cockatoo. We know this detail of his existence, which might - seem a merely domestic one. But the fact that he is shortly to be - paid thirty thousand pounds of public money, for continuing to live - in his own house, is concealed with the utmost delicacy. - - “Similarly we have seen whole pages of an illustrated paper filled - with glimpses of Lord Normantowers enjoying his honeymoon, which the - papers in question are careful to describe as his Romance. Whatever - it may be, an antiquated and fastidious taste might possibly be - disposed to regard it as his own affair. But the fact that the - taxpayer’s money, which is the taxpayer’s affair, is to be given him - in enormous quantities, first for going out of his castle, and then - for coming back into it--this little domestic detail is thought too - trivial for the taxpayer to be told of it. - - “Or again, we are frequently informed that the hobby of Mr. Rosenbaum - Low is improving the breed of Pekinese, and God knows they need it. - But it would seem the sort of hobby that anybody might have without - telling everybody else about it. On the other hand, the fact that - Mr. Rosenbaum Low is being paid twice over for the same house, and - keeping the house as well, is concealed from the public; along with - the equally interesting fact that he is allowed to do these things - chiefly because he lends money to the Prime Minister.” - -The Prime Minister smiled still more grimly and glanced in a light yet -lingering fashion at some of the accompanying leaflets. They seemed -to be in the form of electioneering leaflets, though not apparently -connected with any particular election. - - “Vote for Crane. He Said He would Eat His Hat and Did It. Lord - Normantowers said he would explain how people came to swallow his - coronet; but he hasn’t done it yet. - - “Vote for Pierce. He Said Pigs Would Fly And They Did. Rosenbaum Low - said a service of international aërial express trains would fly; and - they didn’t. It was your money he made to fly. - - “Vote for the League of the Long Bow. They Are The Only Men Who Don’t - Tell Lies.” - -The Prime Minister stood gazing after the vanishing cloud-castle, as it -faded into the clouds, with a curious expression in his eyes. Whether -it were better or worse for his soul, there was something in him that -understood much that the muddled materialists around him could never -understand. - -“Quite poetical, isn’t it?” he said drily. “Wasn’t it Victor Hugo -or some French poet who said something about politics and the -clouds?... The people say, ‘Bah, the poet is in the clouds. So is the -thunderbolt.’” - -“Thunderbolts!” said Normantowers contemptuously. “What can those fools -do but go about flinging fireworks?” - -“Quite so,” replied Eden; “but I’m afraid by this time they are -flinging fireworks into a powder magazine.” - -He continued to gaze into the sky with screwed-up eyes, though the -object had become invisible. - -If his eye could really have followed the thing after which he gazed, -he would have been surprised; if his unfathomable scepticism was still -capable of surprise. It passed over woods and meadows like a sunset -cloud towards the sunset, or a little to the north-west of it, like -the fairy castle that was west of the moon. It left behind the green -orchards and the red towers of Hereford and passed into bare places -whose towers are mightier than any made by man, where they buttress the -mighty wall of Wales. Far away in this wilderness of columned cliffs -and clefts it found a cleft or hollow, along the floor of which ran a -dark line that might have been a black river running through a rocky -valley. But it was in fact a crack opening below into another abyss. -The strange flying ship followed the course of the winding fissure till -it came to a place where the crack opened into a chasm, round like -a cauldron and accidental as the knot in some colossal tree-trunk; -through which it sank, entering the twilight of the tremendous cavern -beneath. The abyss below was lit here and there with artificial lights, -like fallen stars of the underworld, and bridged with wooden platforms -and galleries, on which were wooden huts and huge packing-cases and -many things somewhat suggestive of a munition dump. On the rocky -walls were spread out various balloon coverings, some of them of even -more grotesque outline than the castle. Some were in the shapes of -animals; and on that primeval background looked like the last fossils, -or possibly the first outlines of vast prehistoric creatures. Perhaps -there was something suggestive in the fancy that in that underworld -a new world was being created. The man who alighted from the flying -castle recognized, almost as one recognizes a domestic pet, the outline -of a highly primitive pig stretching like a large archaic drawing -across the wall. For the young man was called Hilary Pierce, and had -had previous dealings with the flying pig, though for that day he had -been put in charge of the flying castle. - -On the platform on which he alighted stood a table covered with -papers, with almost more papers than Lord Eden’s table. But these -papers were covered almost entirely with figures and numbers and -mathematical symbols. Two men were bending over the table, discussing -and occasionally disputing. In the taller of the two the scientific -world might have recognized Professor Green, whom it was seeking -everywhere like the Missing Link, to incarcerate him in the interests -of science. In the shorter and sturdier figure a very few people might -have recognized Bellew Blair, the organizing brain of the English -Revolution. - -“I haven’t come to stay,” explained Pierce hastily. “I’m going on in a -minute.” - -“Why shouldn’t you stay?” asked Blair, in the act of lighting a pipe. - -“I don’t want your little talk interrupted. Still less, far, far -less, do I want it uninterrupted. I mean while I’m here. A little of -your scientific conversation goes a long way with me; I know what -you’re like when you’re really chatty. Professor Green will say in his -satirical way ‘9920.05,’ to which you will reply with quiet humour -‘75.007.’ This will be too good an opening for a witty fellow like the -Professor, who will instantly retort ‘982.09.’ Not in the best taste -perhaps, but a great temptation in the heat of debate.” - -“Commander Blair,” said the Professor, “is very kind to let me share -his calculations.” - -“Lucky for me,” said Blair. “I’d have done ten times more with a -mathematician like you.” - -“Well,” said Pierce casually, “as you are so much immersed in -mathematics, I’ll leave you. As a matter of fact, I had a message for -Professor Green, about Miss Dale at the house where he was lodging; but -we mustn’t interrupt scientific studies for a little thing like that.” - -Green’s head came up from the papers with great abruptness. - -“Message!” he cried eagerly. “What message? Is it really for me?” - -“8282.003,” replied Pierce coldly. - -“Don’t be offended,” said Blair. “Give the Professor his message and -then go if you like.” - -“It’s only that she came over to see my wife to find out where you had -gone to,” said Pierce. “I told her, so far as it’s possible to tell -anybody. That’s all,” he added, but rather with the air of one saying -“it ought to be enough.” - -Apparently it was, for Green, who was once more looking down upon -the precious papers, crumpled one of them in his clenched hand -unconsciously, like a man suddenly controlling his feelings. - -“Well, I’m off,” said Pierce cheerfully; “got to visit the other dumps.” - -“Stop a minute,” said Blair, as the other turned away. “Haven’t you any -sort of public news as well as private news? How are things going in -the political world?” - -“Expressed in mathematical formula,” replied Pierce over his shoulder, -“the political news is MP squared plus LSD over U equals L. L let -loose. L upon earth, my boy.” - -And he climbed again into his castle of the air. - -Oliver Green stood staring at the crumpled paper and suddenly began to -straighten it out. - -“Mr. Blair,” he said, “I’m terribly ashamed of myself. When I see -you living here like a hermit in the mountains and scrawling your -calculations, so to speak, on the rocks of the wilderness, devoted to -your great abstract idea, vowed to a great cause, it makes me feel -very small to have entangled you and your friends in my small affairs. -Of course, the affair isn’t at all small to me; but it must seem very -small to you.” - -“I don’t know very precisely,” answered Blair, “what was the nature -of the affair. But that is emphatically your affair. For the rest, -I assure you we’re delighted to have you, apart from your valuable -services as a calculating machine.” - -Bellew Blair, the last and, in the worldly sense, by far the ablest of -the recruits of the Long Bow, was a man in early middle age, square -built, but neat in figure and light on his feet, clad in a suit of -leather. He mostly moved about so quickly that his figure made more -impression than his face; but when he sat down smoking, in one of his -rare moments of leisure, as now, it could be remarked that his face was -rather calm than vivacious; a short square face with a short resolute -nose, but reflective eyes much lighter than his close black hair. - -“It’s quite Homeric,” he added, “the two armies fighting for the body -of an astronomer. You would be a sort of a symbol anyhow, since they -started that insanity of calling you insane. Nobody has any business to -bother you about the personal side of the matter.” - -Green seemed to be ruminating, and the last phrase awoke him to a -decision. He began to talk. Quite straightforwardly, though with a -certain schoolboy awkwardness, he proceeded to tell his friend the -whole of his uncouth love story--the overturning of his spiritual world -to the tune the old cow died of, or rather danced to. - -“And I’ve let you in for hiding me like a murderer,” he concluded. -“For the sake of something that must seem to you, not even like a -cow jumping over the moon, but more like a calf falling over the -milking-stool. Perhaps people vowed to a great work like this ought to -leave all that sort of thing behind them.” - -“Well, I don’t see anything to be ashamed of,” said Blair, “and in this -case I don’t agree with what you say about leaving those things behind. -Of some sorts of work it’s true; but not this. Shall I tell you a -secret?” - -“If you don’t mind.” - -“The cow never does jump over the moon,” said Blair gravely. “It’s one -of the sports of the bulls of the herd.” - -“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” said the Professor. - -“I mean that women can’t be kept out of this war, because it’s a land -war,” answered Blair. “If it were really a war in the air, you could -have done it all by yourself. But in all wars of peasants defending -their farms and homes, women have been very much on the spot; as they -used to pour hot water out of the windows during the Irish evictions. -Look here, I’ll tell you a story. It’s relevant because it has a moral. -After all, it’s my turn, so to speak. You’ve told me the true story of -the Cow that Jumped over the Moon. It’s time I told you the true story -of the Castle in the Air.” - -He smoked silently for a moment, and then said: - -“You may have wondered how a very prosaic practical Scotch engineer -like myself ever came to make a thing like that pantomime palace over -there, as childish as a child’s coloured balloon. Well, the answer is -the same; because in certain circumstances a man may be different from -himself. At a certain period of the old war preparations, I was doing -some work for the government in a secluded part of the western coast -of Ireland. There were very few people for me to talk to; but one of -them was the daughter of a bankrupt squire named Malone; and I talked -to her a good deal. I was about as mechanical a mechanic as you could -dig out anywhere; grimy, grumpy, tinkering about with dirty machinery. -She was really like those princesses you read about in the Celtic -poems; with a red crown made of curling elf-locks like little flames, -and a pale elfin face that seemed somehow thin and luminous like -glass; and she could make you listen to silence like a song. It wasn’t -a pose with her, it was a poem; there are people like that, but very -few of them like her. I tried to keep my end up by telling her about -the wonders of science, and the great new architecture of the air. And -then Sheila used to say, ‘And what is the good of them to me, when you -_have_ built them. I can see a castle build itself without hands out of -gigantic rocks of clear jewels in the sky every night.’ And she would -point to where crimson or violet clouds hung in the green afterglow -over the great Atlantic. - -“You would probably say I was mad, if you didn’t happen to have been -mad yourself. But I was wild with the idea that there was something -that she admired and that she thought science couldn’t do. I was as -morbid as a boy; I half thought she despised me; and I wanted half to -prove her wrong and half to do whatever she thought right. I resolved -my science should beat the clouds at their own game; and I laboured -till I’d actually made a sort of rainbow castle that would ride on -the air. I think at the back of my mind there was some sort of crazy -idea of carrying her off into the clouds she lived among, as if she -were literally an angel and ought to dwell on wings. It never quite -came to that, as you will hear, but as my experiments progressed my -romance progressed too. You won’t need any telling about that; I only -want to tell you the end of the story because of the moral. We made -arrangements to get married; and I had to leave a good many of the -arrangements to her, while I completed my great work. Then at last -it was ready and I came to seek her like a pagan god descending in a -cloud to carry a nymph up to Olympus. And I found she had already taken -a very solid little brick villa on the edge of a town, having got it -remarkably cheap and furnished it with most modern conveniences. And -when I talked to her about castles in the air, she laughed and said -her castle had come down to the ground. That is the moral. A woman, -especially an Irishwoman, is always uncommonly practical when it comes -to getting married. That is what I mean by saying it is never the cow -who jumps over the moon. It is the cow who stands firmly planted in the -middle of the three acres; and who always counts in any struggle of -the land. That is why there must be women in this story, especially -like those in your story and Pierce’s, women who come from the land. -When the world needs a Crusade for communal ideals, it is best waged by -men without ties, like the Franciscans. But when it comes to a fight -for private property--you can’t keep women out of that. You can’t have -the family farm without the family. You must have concrete Christian -marriage again: you can’t have solid small property with all this -vagabond polygamy: a harem that isn’t even a home.” - -Green nodded and rose slowly to his feet, with his hands in his pockets. - -“When it comes to a fight,” he said. “When I look at these enormous -underground preparations, it is not difficult to infer that you think -it will come to a fight.” - -“I think it has come to a fight,” answered Blair. “Lord Eden has -decided that. And the others may not understand exactly what they are -doing; but he does.” - -And Blair knocked out his pipe and stood up, to resume his work in that -mountain laboratory, at about the same time at which Lord Eden awoke -from his smiling meditations; and, lighting a cigarette, went languidly -indoors. - -He did not attempt to explain what was in his mind to the men around -him. He was the only man there who understood that the England about -him was not the England that had surrounded his youth and supported -his leisure and luxury; that things were breaking up, first slowly and -then more and more swiftly, and that the things detaching themselves -were both good and evil. And one of them was this bald, broad and -menacing new fact: a peasantry. The class of small farmers already -existed, and might yet be found fighting for its farms like the same -class all over the world. It was no longer certain that the sweeping -social adjustments settled in that garden could be applied to the whole -English land. But the story of how far his doubts were justified, -and how far his whole project fared, is a part of the story of “The -Ultimate Ultimatum of the League of the Long Bow,” after which the -exhausted and broken-spirited reader may find rest at last. - - - - -VIII - -THE ULTIMATE ULTIMATUM OF THE LEAGUE OF THE LONG BOW - - - - -VIII - -THE ULTIMATE ULTIMATUM OF THE LEAGUE OF THE LONG BOW - - -Mr. Robert Owen Hood came through his library that was lined with brown -leather volumes with a brown paper parcel in his hand; a flippant -person (such as his friend Mr. Pierce) might have said he was in a -brown study. He came out into the sunlight of his garden, however, -where his wife was arranging tea-things, for she was expecting -visitors. Even in the strong daylight he looked strangely little -altered, despite the long and catastrophic period that had passed since -he met her in the Thames Valley and managed really to set the Thames -on fire. That fire had since spread in space and time and become a -conflagration in which much of modern civilization had been consumed; -but in which (as its advocates alleged) English agriculture had been -saved and a new and more hopeful chapter opened in English history. -His angular face was rather more lined and wrinkled, but his straight -shock of copper-coloured hair was as unchanged as if it had been a -copper-coloured wig. His wife Elizabeth was even less marked, for she -was younger; she had the same slightly nervous or short-sighted look -in the eyes that was like a humanizing touch to her beauty made of -ivory and gold. But though she was not old she had always been a little -old-fashioned; for she came of a forgotten aristocracy whose women had -moved with a certain gravity as well as grace about the old country -houses, before coronets were sold like cabbages or the Jews lent money -to the squires. But her husband was old-fashioned too; though he had -just taken part in a successful revolution and bore a revolutionary -name, he also had his prejudices; and one of them was a weakness for -his wife being a lady--especially that lady. - -“Owen,” she said, looking up from the tea-table with alarmed severity, -“you’ve been buying more old books.” - -“As it happens, these are particularly new books,” he replied; “but I -suppose in one sense it’s all ancient history now.” - -“What ancient history?” she asked. “Is it a History of Babylon or -prehistoric China?” - -“It is a History of Us.” - -“I hope not,” she said; “but what do you mean?” - -“I mean it’s a history of Our Revolution,” said Owen Hood, “a true -and authentic account of the late glorious victories, as the old -broadsheets said. The Great War of 1914 started the fashion of bringing -out the history of events almost before they’d happened. There were -standard histories of that war while it was still going on. Our little -civil war is at least finished, thank God; and this is the brand-new -history of it. Written by a rather clever fellow, detached but -understanding and a little ironical on the right side. Above all, he -gives quite a good description of the Battle of the Bows.” - -“I shouldn’t call that our history,” said Elizabeth quietly. “I’m -devoutly thankful that nobody can ever write our history or put it in a -book. Do you remember when you jumped into the water after the flowers? -I fancy it was then that you really set the Thames on fire.” - -“With my red hair, no doubt,” he replied, “but I don’t think I did set -the Thames on fire. I think it was the Thames that set me on fire. Only -you were always the spirit of the stream and the goddess of the valley.” - -“I hope I’m not quite so old as that,” answered Elizabeth. - -“Listen to this,” cried her husband, turning over the pages of the -book. “‘According to the general belief, which prevailed until the -recent success of the agrarian movement of the Long Bow, it was -overwhelmingly improbable that a revolutionary change could be effected -in England. The recent success of the agrarian protest----’” - -“Do come out of that book,” remonstrated his wife. “One of our visitors -has just arrived.” - -The visitor proved to be the Reverend Wilding White, a man who had -also played a prominent part in the recent triumph, a part that was -sometimes highly public and almost pontifical; but in private life he -had always a way of entering with his grey hair brushed or blown the -wrong way and his eagle face eager or indignant; and his conversation -like his correspondence came in a rush and was too explosive to be -explanatory. - -“I say,” he cried, “I’ve come to talk to you about that idea, you -know--Enoch Oates wrote about it from America and he’s a jolly good -fellow and all that; but after all he does come from America and so he -thinks it’s quite easy. But you can see for yourself it isn’t quite so -easy, what with Turks and all that. It’s all very well to talk about -the United States----” - -“Never you mind about the United States,” said Hood easily; “I think -I’m rather in favour of the Heptarchy. You just listen to this; the -epic of our own Heptarchy, the story of our own dear little domestic -war. ‘The recent success of the agrarian protest----’” - -He was interrupted again by the arrival of two more guests; by the -silent entrance of Colonel Crane and the very noisy entrance of Captain -Pierce, who had brought his young wife with him from the country, -for they had established themselves in the ancestral inn of the Blue -Boar. White’s wife was still in the country, and Crane’s having long -been busy in her studio with war-posters, was now equally busy with -peace-posters. - -Hood was one of those men whom books almost literally seize and -swallow, like monsters with leather or paper jaws. It was no -exaggeration to say he was deep in a book as an incautious traveller -might be deep in a swamp or some strange man-eating plant of the -tropics; only that the traveller was magnetized and did not even -struggle. He would fall suddenly silent in the middle of a sentence -and go on reading; or he would suddenly begin to read aloud with great -passion, arguing with somebody in the book without any reference to -anybody in the room. Though not normally rude, he would drift through -other people’s drawing-rooms towards other people’s bookshelves and -disappear into them, so to speak, like a rusty family ghost. He would -travel a hundred miles to see a friend for an hour, and then waste half -an hour with his head in some odd volume he never happened to have -seen before. On all that side of him there was a sort of almost creepy -unconsciousness. His wife, who had old-world notions of the graces of a -hostess, sometimes had double work to do. - -“The recent success of the agrarian protest,” began Hood cheerfully -as his wife rose swiftly to receive two more visitors. These were -Professor Green and Commander Bellew Blair; for a queer friendship had -long linked together the most practical and the most unpractical of -the brothers of the Long Bow. The friendship, as Pierce remarked, was -firmly rooted in the square root of minus infinity. - -“How beautiful your garden is looking,” said Blair to his hostess. “One -so seldom sees flower-beds like that now; but I shall always think the -old gardeners were right.” - -“Most things are old-fashioned here, I’m afraid,” replied Elizabeth, -“but I always like them like that. And how are the children?” - -“The recent success of the agrarian protest,” remarked her husband in a -clear voice, “is doubtless----” - -“Really,” she said, laughing, “you are too ridiculous for anything. -Why in the world should you want to read out the history of the war -to the people who were in it, and know quite well already what really -happened?” - -“I beg your pardon,” said Colonel Crane. “Very improper to contradict -a lady, but indeed you are mistaken. The very last thing the soldier -generally knows is what has really happened. Has to look at a newspaper -next morning for the realistic description of what never happened.” - -“Why, then you’d better go on reading, Hood,” said Hilary Pierce. “The -Colonel wants to know whether he was killed in battle; or whether there -was any truth in that story that he was hanged as a spy on the very -tree he had climbed when running away as a deserter.” - -“Should rather like to know what they make of it all,” said the -Colonel. “After all, we were all too deep in it to see it. I mean see -it as a whole.” - -“If Owen once begins he won’t stop for hours,” said the lady. - -“Perhaps,” began Blair, “we had better----” - -“The recent success of the agrarian protest,” remarked Hood in -authoritative tones, “is doubtless to be attributed largely to the -economic advantage belonging to an agrarian population. It can feed the -town or refuse to feed the town; and this question appeared early in -the politics of the peasantry that had arisen in the western counties. -Nobody will forget the scene at Paddington Station in the first days of -the rebellion. Men who had grown used to seeing on innumerable mornings -the innumerable ranks and rows of great milk-cans, looking leaden in a -grey and greasy light, found themselves faced with a blank, in which -those neglected things shone in the memory like stolen silver. It was -true, as Sir Horace Hunter eagerly pointed out when he was put in -command of the highly hygienic problem of the milk supply, that there -would be no difficulty about manufacturing the metal cans, perhaps -even of an improved pattern, with a rapidity and finish of which the -rustics of Somerset were quite incapable. He had long been of opinion, -the learned doctor explained, that the shape of the cans, especially -the small cans left outside poor houses, left much to be desired, -and the whole process of standing these small objects about in the -basements of private houses was open to grave objection in the matter -of waste of space. The public, however, showed an indifference to this -new issue and a disposition to go back on the old demand for milk; in -which matter, they said, there was an unfair advantage for the man who -possessed a cow over the man who only possessed a can. But the story -that Hunter had rivalled the agrarian slogan by proclaiming the policy -of ‘Three Areas and a Can’ was in all probability a flippant invention -of his enemies. - -“These agrarian strikes had already occurred at intervals before they -culminated in the agrarian war. They were the result of the attempt -to enforce on the farmers certain general regulations and precautions -about their daily habit, dress and diet, which Sir Horace Hunter and -Professor Hake had found to be of great advantage in the large State -laboratories for the manufacture of poisons and destructive gases. -There was every reason to believe that the people, especially the -young people, of the village often evaded the regulation about the -gutta-percha masks, and the rule requiring the worker to paint himself -all over with an antiseptic gum: and the sending of inspectors from -London to see that these rules were enforced led to lamentable scenes -of violence. It would be an error, however, to attribute the whole of -this great social convulsion to any local agricultural dispute. The -causes must also be sought in the general state of society, especially -political society. The Earl of Eden was a statesman of great skill -by the old Parliamentary standards, but he was already old when he -launched his final defiance to the peasants in the form of Land -Nationalization; and the General Election which was the result of this -departure fell largely into the hands of his lieutenants like Hunter -and Low. It soon became apparent that some of the illusions of the Eden -epoch had worn rather thin. It was found that the democracy could not -always be intimidated even by the threat of consulting them about the -choice of a Government. - -“Nor can it be denied that the General Election of 19-- was from the -first rendered somewhat unreal by certain legal fictions which had long -been spreading. There was a custom, originating in the harmless and -humane deception used upon excited maiden ladies from the provinces, -by which the private secretaries of the Prime Minister would present -themselves as that politician himself; sometimes completing the -innocent illusion by brushing their hair, waxing their moustaches or -wearing their eye-glasses in the manner of their master. When this -custom was extended to public platforms it cannot be denied that it -became more questionable. In the last days of that venerable statesman -it has been asserted that there were no less than five Lloyd Georges -touring the country at the same time, and that the contemporary -Chancellor of the Exchequer had appeared simultaneously in three cities -on the same night, while the original of all these replicas, the -popular and brilliant Chancellor himself, was enjoying a well-earned -rest by the Lake of Como. The incident of the two identical Lord Smiths -appearing side by side on the same platform (through a miscalculation -of the party agents), though received with good-humour and honest -merriment by the audience, did but little good to the serious credit of -parliamentary institutions. There was of course a certain exaggeration -in the suggestion of the satirist that a whole column of identical -Prime Ministers, walking two and two like soldiers, marched out of -Downing Street every morning and distributed themselves to their -various posts like policemen; but such satires were popular and widely -scattered, especially by an active young gentleman who was the author -of most of them--Captain Hilary Pierce, late of the Flying Corps. - -“But if this was true of such trifles as a half a dozen of Prime -Ministers, it was even truer and more trying in the practical matter -of party programmes and proposals. The heading of each party programme -with the old promise ‘Every Man a Millionaire’ had of course become -merely formal, like a decorative pattern or border. But it cannot -be denied that the universal use of this phrase, combined with the -equally universal sense of the unfairness of expecting any politician -to carry it out, somewhat weakened the force of words in political -affairs. It would have been well if statesmen had confined themselves -to these accepted and familiar formalities. Unfortunately, under the -stress of the struggle which arose out of the menacing organization -of the League of the Long Bow, they sought to dazzle their followers -with new improbabilities instead of adhering to the tried and trusty -improbabilities that had done them yeoman service in the past. - -“Thus it was unwise of Lord Normantowers so far to depart from -the temperance principles of a lifetime as to promise all his -workers a bottle of champagne each at every meal, if they would -consent to complete the provision of munitions for suppressing -the Long Bow rebellion. The great philanthropist unquestionably -had the highest intentions, both in his rash promise and his more -reasonable fulfilment. But when the munition-workers found that the -champagne-bottles, though carefully covered with the most beautiful -gold-foil, contained in fact nothing but hygienically boiled water, the -result was a sudden and sensational strike, which paralysed the whole -output of munitions and led to the first incredible victories of the -League of the Long Bow. - -“There followed in consequence one of the most amazing wars of human -history--a one-sided war. One side would have been insignificant if -the other had not been impotent. The minority could not have fought -for long; only the majority could not fight at all. There prevailed -through the whole of the existing organizations of society a universal -distrust that turned them into a dust of disconnected atoms. What was -the use of offering men higher pay when they did not believe they would -ever receive it, but only alluded jeeringly to Lord Normantowers and -his brand of champagne? What was the use of telling every man that he -would have a bonus, when you had told him for twenty years that he -would soon be a millionaire? What was the good of the Prime Minister -pledging his honour in a ringing voice on platform after platform, -when it was already an open jest that it was not the Prime Minister at -all? The Government voted taxes and they were not paid. It mobilized -armies and they did not move. It introduced the pattern of a new -all-pulverizing gun, and nobody would make it and nobody would fire it -off. We all remember the romantic crisis when no less a genius than -Professor Hake came to Sir Horace Hunter, the Minister of Scientific -Social Organization, with a new explosive capable of shattering the -whole geological formation of Europe and sinking these islands in the -Atlantic, but was unable to induce the cabman or any of the clerks to -assist him in lifting it out of the cab. - -“Against all this anarchy of broken promises the little organization -of the Long Bow stood solid and loyal and dependable. The Long Bowmen -had become popular by the nickname of the Liars. Everywhere the jest or -catch-word was repeated like a song, ‘Only the Liars Tell the Truth.’ -They found more and more men to work and fight for them, because it -was known that they would pay whatever wages they promised, and refuse -to promise anything that they could not perform. The nickname became -an ironical symbol of idealism and dignity. A man was proud of being a -little precise and even pedantic in his accuracy and probity because -he was a Liar. The whole of this strange organization had originated -in certain wild bets or foolish practical jokes indulged in by a small -group of eccentrics. But they had prided themselves on the logical, if -rather literal, fashion in which they had fulfilled certain vows about -white elephants or flying pigs. Hence, when they came to stand for a -policy of peasant proprietorship, and were enabled by the money of an -American crank to establish it in a widespread fashion across the west -of England, they took the more serious task with the same tenacity. -When their foes mocked them with ‘the myth of three acres and a cow,’ -they answered: ‘Yes, it is as mythical as the cow that jumped over the -moon. But our myths come true.’ - -“The inexplicable and indeed incredible conclusion of the story was due -to a new fact; the fact of the actual presence of the new peasantry. -They had first come into complete possession of their farms, by the -deed of gift signed by Enoch Oates in the February of 19-- and had -thus been settled on the land for ten or twelve years when Lord Eden -and his Cabinet finally committed themselves to the scheme of Land -Nationalization by which their homesteads were to pass into official -control. That curious and inexplicable thing, the spirit of the -peasant, had made great strides in the interval. It was found that -the Government could not move such people about from place to place, -as it is possible to do with the urban poor in the reconstruction of -streets or the destruction of slums. It was not a thing like moving -pawns, but a thing like pulling up plants; and plants that had already -struck their roots very deep. In short, the Government, which had -adopted a policy commonly called Socialist from motives that were in -fact very conservative, found themselves confronted with the same -peasant resistance as brought the Bolshevist Government in Russia to -a standstill. And when Lord Eden and his Cabinet put in motion the -whole modern machinery of militarism and coercion to crush the little -experiment, he found himself confronted with a rural rising such as -has not been known in England since the Middle Ages. - -“It is said that the men of the Long Bow carried their mediæval -symbolism so far as to wear Lincoln green as their uniform when they -retired to the woods in the manner of Robin Hood. It is certain that -they did employ the weapon after which they were named; and curiously -enough, as will be seen, by no means without effect. But it must be -clearly understood that when the new agrarian class took to the woods -like outlaws, they did not feel in the least like robbers. They hardly -even felt like rebels. From their point of view at least, they were -and had long been the lawful owners of their own fields, and the -officials who came to confiscate were the robbers. Therefore when Lord -Eden proclaimed Nationalization, they turned out in thousands as their -fathers would have gone out against pirates or wolves. - -“The Government acted with great promptitude. It instantly voted -£50,000 to Mr. Rosenbaum Low, the expenditure of which was wisely -left to his discretion at so acute a crisis, with no more than the -understanding that he should take a thorough general survey of the -situation. He proved worthy of the trust; and it was with the gravest -consideration and sense of responsibility that he selected Mr. Leonard -Kramp, the brilliant young financier, from all his other nephews to -take command of the forces in the field. In the field, however, -fortune is well known to be somewhat more incalculable; and all the -intelligence and presence of mind that had enabled Kramp to postpone -the rush on the Potosi Bank were not sufficient to balance the -accidental possession by Crane and Pierce of an elementary knowledge of -strategy. - -“Before considering the successes obtained by these commanders in -the rather rude fashion of warfare which they were forced to adopt, -it must be noted, of course, that even on their side there were also -scientific resources of a kind; and an effective if eccentric kind. -The scientific genius of Bellew Blair had equipped his side with many -secret processes affecting aviation and aeronautics, and it is the -peculiarity of this extraordinary man that his secret processes really -remained for a considerable time secret. For he had not told them -to anybody with any intention of making any money out of them. This -quixotic and visionary behaviour contrasted sharply with the shrewd -good sense of the great business men who knew that publicity is the -soul of business. For some time past they had successfully ignored the -outworn sentimental prejudice that had prevented soldiers and sailors -from advertising the best methods of defeating the enemy; and we can -all recall those brilliantly coloured announcements which used to -brighten so many hoardings in those days, ‘Sink in Smith’s Submarine; -Pleasure Trips for Patriots.’ Or ‘Duffin’s Portable Dug-Out Makes War -a Luxury.’ Advertisement cannot fail to effect its aim; the name of -an aeroplane that had been written on the sky in pink and pea-green -lights could not but become a symbol of the conquest of the air; and -the patriotic statesman, deeply considering what sort of battleship -might best defend his country’s coasts, was insensibly and subtly -influenced by the number of times that he had seen its name repeated on -the steps of a moving staircase at an Imperial Exhibition. Nor could -there be any doubt about the brilliant success that attended these -scientific specialities so long as their operations were confined to -the market. The methods of Commander Blair were in comparison private, -local, obscure and lacking any general recognition; and by a strange -irony it was a positive advantage to this nameless and secretive crank -that he had never advertised his weapons until he used them. He had -paraded a number of merely fanciful balloons and fireworks for a jest; -but the secrets to which he attached importance he had hidden in cracks -of the Welsh mountains with a curious and callous indifference to the -principles of commercial distribution and display. He could not in any -case have conducted operations on a large scale, being deficient in -that capital, the lack of which has so often been fatal to inventors; -and had made it useless for a man to discover a machine unless he -could also discover a millionaire. But it cannot be denied that when -his machine was brought into operation it was always operative, even -to the point of killing the millionaire who might have financed it. -For the millionaire had so persistently cultivated the virtues of -self-advertisement that it was difficult for him to become suddenly -unknown and undistinguished, even in scenes of conflict where he most -ardently desired to do so. There was a movement on foot for treating -all millionaires as non-combatants, as being treasures belonging alike -to all nations, like the Cathedrals or the Parthenon. It is said that -there was even an alternative scheme for camouflaging the millionaire -by the pictorial methods that can disguise a gun as a part of the -landscape; and that Captain Pierce devoted much eloquence to persuading -Mr. Rosenbaum Low how much better it would be for all parties if his -face could be made to melt away into the middle distance or take on the -appearance of a blank wall or a wooden post.” - -“The extraordinary thing is,” interrupted Pierce, who had been -listening eagerly, “that he said I was personal. Just at the moment -when I was trying to make him most _im_personal, when I was trying to -wave away all personal features that could come between us, he actually -said I was personal.” - -Hood went on reading as if nobody had spoken. “In truth the successes -of Blair’s instruments revealed a fallacy in the common commercial -argument. We talk of a competition between two kinds of soap or two -kinds of jam or cocoa, but it is a competition in purchase and not in -practice. We do not make two men eat two kinds of jam and then observe -which wears the most radiant smile of satisfaction. We do not give two -men two kinds of cocoa and note which endures it with most resignation. -But we do use two guns directly against each other; and in the case of -Blair’s methods the less advertised gun was the better. Nevertheless -his scientific genius could only cover a corner of the field; and a -great part of the war must be considered as a war in the open country -of a much more primitive and sometimes almost prehistoric kind. - -“It is admitted of course by all students that the victories of Crane -and Pierce were gross violations of strategic science. The victors -themselves afterwards handsomely acknowledged the fact; but it was then -too late to repair the error. In order to understand it, however, it is -necessary to grasp the curious condition into which so many elements -of social life had sunk in the time just preceding the outbreak. -It was this strange social situation which rendered the campaign a -contradiction to so many sound military maxims. - -“For instance, it is a recognized military maxim that armies depend -upon roads. But anyone who had noticed the conditions that were -already beginning to appear in the London streets as early as 1924 -will understand that a road was something less simple and static -than the Romans imagined. The Government had adopted everywhere in -their road-making the well-known material familiar to us all from the -advertisements by the name of ‘Nobumpo,’ thereby both insuring the -comfort of travellers and rewarding a faithful supporter by placing -a large order with Mr. Hugg. As several members of the Government -themselves held shares in ‘Nobumpo’ their enthusiastic co-operation -in the public work was assured. But, as has no doubt been observed -everywhere, it is one of the many advantages of ‘Nobumpo,’ as -preserving that freshness of surface so agreeable to the pedestrian, -that the whole material can be (and is) taken up and renewed every -three months, for the comfort of travellers and the profit and -encouragement of trade. It so happened that at the precise moment -of the outbreak of hostilities all the country roads, especially in -the west, were as completely out of use as if they had been the main -thoroughfares of London. This in itself tended to equalize the chances -or even to increase them in favour of a guerilla force, such as that -which had disappeared into the woods and was everywhere moving under -the cover of the trees. Under modern conditions, it was found that by -carefully avoiding roads, it was still more or less possible to move -from place to place. - -“Again, another recognized military fact is the fact that the bow -is an obsolete weapon. And nothing is more irritating to a finely -balanced taste than to be killed with an obsolete weapon, especially -while persistently pulling the trigger of an efficient weapon, -without any apparent effect. Such was the fate of the few unfortunate -regiments which ventured to advance into the forests and fell under -showers of arrows from trackless ambushes. For it must be remembered -that the conditions of this extraordinary campaign entirely reversed -the normal military rule about the essential military department of -supply. Mechanical communications theoretically accelerate supply, -while the supply of a force cut loose and living on the country is -soon exhausted. But the mechanical factor also depends upon a moral -factor. Ammunition would on normal occasions have been produced with -unequalled rapidity by Poole’s Process and brought up with unrivalled -speed in Blinker’s Cars; but not at the moment when riotous employees -were engaged in dipping Poole repeatedly in a large vat at the factory -or in the quieter conditions of the countryside, where various tramps -were acquiring squatters’ rights in Blinker’s Cars, accidentally -delayed upon their journey. Everywhere the same thing happened; just -as the great manufacturer failed to keep his promise to the workers -who produced munitions, so the petty officials driving the lorries had -failed to keep their promise to loafers and vagrants who had helped -them out of temporary difficulties; and the whole system of supply -broke down upon a broken word. On the other hand, the supply of the -outlaws was in a sense almost infinite. With the woodcutters and the -blacksmiths on their side, they could produce their own rude mediæval -weapons everywhere. It was in vain that Professor Hake delivered a -series of popular lectures, proving to the lower classes that in -the long run it would be to their economic advantage to be killed -in battle. Captain Pierce is reported to have said: ‘I believe the -Professor is a botanist as well as an economist; but as a botanist he -has not yet discovered that guns do not grow on trees. Bows and arrows -do.’ - -“But the incident which history will have most difficulty in -explaining, and which it may perhaps refer to the region of myth or -romance, is the crowning victory commonly called the Battle of the -Bows. It was indeed originally called ‘The Battle of the Bows of God’; -in reference to some strangely fantastic boast, equally strangely -fulfilled, that is said to have been uttered by the celebrated Parson -White, a sort of popular chaplain who seems to have been the Friar Tuck -of this new band of Robin Hood. Coming on a sort of embassy to Sir -Horace Hunter, this clergyman is said to have threatened the Government -with something like a miracle. When rallied about the archaic sport of -the Long Bow, he replied: ‘Yes, we have long bows and we shall have -longer bows; the longest bows the world has ever seen; bows taller -than houses; bows given to us by God Himself and big enough for His -gigantic angels.’ - -“The whole business of this battle, historic and decisive as it was, is -covered with some obscurity, like that cloud of storm that hung heavy -upon the daybreak of that gloomy November day. Had anyone been present -with the Government forces who was well acquainted with the western -valley in which they were operating, such a person could not have -failed to notice that the very landscape looked different; looked new -and abnormal. Dimly as it could be traced through the morning twilight, -the very line of the woodland against the sky would have shown him a -new shape; a deformity like a hump. But the plans had all been laid -out in London long before in imitation of that foresight, fixity of -purpose, and final success that will always be associated with the last -German Emperor. It was enough for them that there was a wood of some -sort marked on the map, and they advanced towards it, low and crouching -as its entrance appeared to be. - -“Then something happened, which even those who saw it and survived -cannot describe. The dark trees seemed to spring up to twice their -height as in a nightmare. In the half-dark the whole wood seemed to -rise from the earth like a rush of birds and then to turn over in -mid-air and come towards the invaders like a roaring wave. Some such -dim and dizzy sight they saw; but many of them at least saw little -enough afterwards. Simultaneously with the turning of this wheel of -waving trees, rocks seemed to rain down out of heaven; beams and stones -and shafts and missiles of all kinds, flattening out the advancing -force as under a pavement produced by a shower of paving-stones. It -is asserted that some of the countrymen cunning in woodcraft, in the -service of the Long Bow, had contrived to fit up a tree as a colossal -catapult; calculating how to bend back the boughs and sometimes even -the trunks to the breaking-point, and gaining a huge and living -resilience with their release. If this story is true, it is certainly -an appropriate conclusion to the career of the Long Bow and a rather -curious fulfilment of the visionary vaunt of Parson White when he said -that the bows would be big enough for giants, and that the maker of the -bows was God.” - -“Yes,” interrupted the excitable White, “and do you know what he said -to me when I first said it?” - -“What who said when you said what?” asked Hood patiently. - -“I mean that fellow Hunter,” replied the clergyman. “That varnished -society doctor turned politician. Do you know what he said when I told -him we would get our bows from God?” - -Owen Hood paused in the act of lighting a cigar. - -“Yes,” he said grimly. “I believe I can tell you exactly what he said. -I’ve watched him off and on for twenty years. I bet he began by saying: -‘I don’t profess to be a religious man.’” - -“Right, quite right,” cried the cleric bounding upon his chair in a -joyous manner, “that’s exactly how he began. ‘I don’t profess to be -a religious man, but I trust I have some reverence and good taste. I -don’t drag religion into politics.’ And I said: ‘No, I don’t think you -do.’” - -A moment after, he bounded, as it were, in a new direction. “And -that reminds me of what I came about,” he cried. “Enoch Oates, your -American friend, drags religion into politics all right; only it’s a -rather American sort of religion. He’s talking about a United States -of Europe and wants to introduce you to a Lithuanian Prophet. It seems -this Lithuanian party has started a movement for a Universal Peasant -Republic or World State of Workers on the Land; but at present he’s -only got as far as Lithuania. But he seems inclined to pick up England -on the way, after the unexpected success of the English agrarian party.” - -“What’s the good of talking to me about a World State,” growled Hood. -“Didn’t I say I preferred a Heptarchy?” - -“Don’t you understand?” interrupted Hilary Pierce excitedly. “What -can we have to do with international republics? We can turn England -upside-down if we like; but it’s England that we like, whichever -way up. Why, our very names and phrases, the very bets and jokes in -which the whole thing began, will never be translated. It takes an -Englishman to eat his hat; I never heard of a Spaniard threatening to -eat his sombrero, or a Chinaman to chew his pigtail. You can only set -the Thames on fire; you cannot set the Tiber or the Ganges on fire, -because the habit of speech has never been heard of. What’s the good of -talking about white elephants in countries where they are only white -elephants? Go and say to a Frenchman, ‘_Pour mon château, je le trouve -un elephant blanc_’ and he will send two Parisian alienists to look -at you seriously, like a man who says that his motor-car is a green -giraffe. There is no point in telling Czecho-Slovakian pigs to fly, or -Jugo-Slavonic cows to jump over the moon. Why, the unhappy Lithuanian -would be bewildered to the point of madness by our very name. There -is no reason to suppose that he and his countrymen talk about a Long -Bowman when they mean a liar. We talk about tall stories, but a tall -story may mean a true story in colloquial Lithuanian.” - -“Tall stories are true stories sometimes, I hope,” said Colonel Crane, -“and people don’t believe ’em. But people’ll say that was a very tall -story about the tall trees throwing darts and stones. Afraid it’ll come -to be a bit of a joke.” - -“All our battles began as jokes and they will end as jokes,” said Owen -Hood, staring at the smoke of his cigar as it threaded its way towards -the sky in grey and silver arabesque. “They will linger only as faintly -laughable legends, if they linger at all; they may pass an idle hour or -fill an empty page; and even the man who tells them will not take them -seriously. It will all end in smoke like the smoke I am looking at; in -eddying and topsy-turvy patterns hovering for a moment in the air. And -I wonder how many, who may smile or yawn over them, will realize that -where there was smoke there was fire?” - -There was a silence; then Colonel Crane stood up, a solitary figure -in his severe and formal clothes, and gravely said farewell to his -hostess. With the failing afternoon light he knew that his own wife, -who was a well-known artist, would be abandoning her studio work, and -he always looked forward to a talk with her before dinner, which was -often a more social function. Nevertheless, as he approached his old -home a whim induced him to delay the meeting for a few minutes and to -walk around to his old kitchen-garden, where his old servant Archer was -still leaning on a spade, as in the days before the Flood. - -So he stood for a moment amid a changing world exactly as he had stood -on that distant Sunday morning at the beginning of all these things. -The South Sea idol still stood at the corner; the scarecrow still wore -the hat that he had sacrificed; the cabbages still looked green and -solid like the cabbage he had once dug up, digging up so much along -with it. - -“Queer thing,” he said, “how true it is what Hilary once said about -acting an allegory without knowing it. Never had a notion of what I -was doing when I picked up a cabbage and wore it for a wager. Damned -awkward position, but I never dreamed I was being martyred for a -symbol. And the right symbol too, for I’ve lived to see Britannia -crowned with cabbage. All very well to say Britannia ruled the waves; -it was the land she couldn’t rule, her own land, and it was heaving -like earthquakes. But while there’s cabbage there’s hope. Archer, -my friend, this is the moral: any country that tries to do without -cabbages is done for. And even in war you often fight as much with -cabbages as cannon balls.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Archer respectfully; “would you be wanting another -cabbage now, sir?” - -Colonel Crane repressed a slight shudder. “No, thank you; no, thank -you,” he said hastily. Then he muttered as he turned away: “I don’t -mind revolutions so much, but I wouldn’t go through that again.” - -And he passed swiftly round his house, of which the windows began to -show the glow of kindled lamps, and went in to his wife. - -Archer was left alone in the garden, tidying up after his work and -shifting the potted shrubs; a dark and solitary figure as sunset and -twilight sank all around the enclosure like soft curtains of grey with -a border of purple; and the windows, as yet uncurtained and full of -lamplight, painted patterns of gold on the lawns and flagged walks -without. It was perhaps appropriate that he should remain alone and -apart; for he alone in all these changes had remained quite unchanged. -It was perhaps fitting that his figure should stand in a dark outline -against the darkening scene; for the mystery of his immutable -respectability remains more of a riddle than all the riot of the rest. -No revolution could revolutionize Mr. Archer. Attempts had been made -to provide so excellent a gardener with a garden of his own; with a -farm of his own, in accordance with the popular policy of the hour. But -he would not adapt himself to the new world; nor would he hasten to -die out, as was his duty on evolutionary principles. He was merely a -survival; but he showed a perplexing disposition to survive. - -Suddenly the lonely gardener realized that he was not alone. A face -had appeared above the hedge, gazing at him with blue eyes dreaming -yet burning; a face with something of the tint and profile of Shelley. -It was impossible that Mr. Archer should have heard of such a person -as Shelley: fortunately he recognized the visitor as a friend of his -master. - -“Forgive me if I am mistaken, Citizen Archer,” said Hilary Pierce -with pathetic earnestness, “but it seems to me that you are not -swept along with the movement; that a man of your abilities has been -allowed to stand apart, as it were, from the campaign of the Long -Bow. And yet how strange! Are you not Archer? Does not your very name -rise up and reproach you? Ought you not to have shot more arrows or -told more tarradiddles than all the rest? Or is there perhaps a more -elemental mystery behind your immobility, like that of a statue in -the garden? Are you indeed the god of the garden, more beautiful than -this South Sea idol and more respectable than Priapus? Are you in no -mortal sense an Archer? Are you perhaps Apollo, serving this military -Admetus; successfully, yes, successfully, hiding your radiance from -me?” He paused for a reply, and then lowered his voice as he resumed: -“Or are you not rather that other Archer whose shafts are not shafts -of death but of life and fruitfulness; whose arrows plant themselves -like little flowering trees; like the little shrubs you are planting in -this garden? Are you he that gives the sunstroke not in the head but -the heart; and have you stricken each of us in turn with the romance -that has awakened us for the revolution? For without that spirit of -fruitfulness and the promise of the family, these visions would indeed -be vain. Are you in truth the God of Love; and has your arrow stung and -startled each of us into telling his story? I will not call you Cupid,” -he said with a slight air of deprecation or apology, “I will not call -you Cupid, Mr. Archer, for I conceive you as no pagan deity, but rather -as that image clarified and spiritualized to a symbol almost Christian, -as he might have appeared to Chaucer or to Botticelli. Nay, it was you -that, clad in no heathen colours, but rather in mediæval heraldry, -blew a blast on his golden trumpet when Beatrice saluted Dante on the -bridge. Are you indeed that Archer, O Archer, and did you give each one -of us his Vita Nuova?” - -“No, sir,” said Mr. Archer. - - * * * * * - -Thus does the chronicler of the League of the Long Bow come to the -end of his singularly unproductive and unprofitable labours, without, -perhaps, having yet come to the beginning. The reader may have once -hoped, perhaps, that the story would be like the universe; which when -it ends, will explain why it ever began. But the reader has long been -sleeping, after the toils and trials of his part in the affair; and the -writer is too tactful to ask at how early a stage of his story-telling -that generally satisfactory solution of all our troubles was found. -He knows not if the sleep has been undisturbed, or in that sleep what -dreams may come, if there has been cast upon it any shadow of the -shapes in his own very private and comfortable nightmare; turrets clad -with the wings of morning or temples marching over dim meadows as -living monsters, or swine plumed like cherubim or forests bent like -bows, or a fiery river winding through a dark land. Images are in -their nature indefensible, if they miss the imagination of another; -and the foolish scribe of the Long Bow will not commit the last folly -of defending his dreams. He at least has drawn a bow at a venture and -shot an arrow into the air; and he has no intention of looking for it -in oaks, all over the neighbourhood, or expecting to find it still -sticking in a mortal and murderous manner in the heart of a friend. -His is only a toy bow; and when a boy shoots with such a bow, it is -generally very difficult to find the arrow--or the boy. - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - -Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - -Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - -Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - -Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE LONG BOW *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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Chesterton—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel='icon' href='images/cover.jpg' type='image/x-cover'> - <style> - -/*<![CDATA[ */ - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.tdr {text-align: right;} -.tdc {text-align: center;} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - text-indent: 0; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; -} - -.x-ebookmaker .blockquot { - margin-left: 7.5%; - margin-right: 7.5%; -} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} -.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} - -p.drop-cap { - text-indent: -0.35em; -} - -p.drop-cap:first-letter -{ - float: left; - margin: 0em 0.15em 0em 0em; - font-size: 250%; - line-height:0.85em; - text-indent: 0em; -} -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap { - text-indent: 0em; -} -.x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap:first-letter -{ - float: none; - margin: 0; - font-size: 100%; -} - -div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} -div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} - -.xxlarge {font-size: 200%;} -.xlarge {font-size: 150%;} -.large {font-size: 125%;} - -.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; - padding: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - - /* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Tales of the Long Bow, by G. K. Chesterton</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Tales of the Long Bow</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: G. K. Chesterton</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 20, 2022 [eBook #69185]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE LONG BOW ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt=""></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<h1>TALES OF THE LONG BOW</h1> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt=""></div> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> -<div class="titlepage"> -<p><span class="xxlarge">TALES OF THE<br> -LONG BOW</span></p> - -<p><span class="large">BY</span><br> -<span class="xlarge">G. K. CHESTERTON</span><br> - -AUTHOR OF<br> -“THE INNOCENCE OF FATHER<br> -BROWN,” “HERETICS,” ETC.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_titlelogo.jpg" alt=""></div> - -<p><span class="large">NEW YORK</span><br> -<span class="xlarge">DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY</span><br> -<span class="large">1925</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1925</span><br> -<span class="smcap">By</span> GILBERT K. CHESTERTON<br> - -<br> -PRINTED IN U. S. A.<br> -<br> -THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS<br> -BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table> - -<tr><td class="tdc"><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">I</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Unpresentable Appearance of Colonel Crane</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_3"> 3</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">II</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Improbable Success of Mr. Owen Hood</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39"> 39</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">III</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Unobtrusive Traffic of Captain Pierce</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_81"> 81</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IV</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Elusive Companion of Parson White</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_113"> 113</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">V</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Exclusive Luxury of Enoch Oates</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_147"> 147</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VI</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Unthinkable Theory of Professor Green</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_177"> 177</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VII</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Unprecedented Architecture of Commander Blair</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_211"> 211</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Ultimate Ultimatum of the League of the Long Bow</span>     </td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_247"> 247</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">I<br> - -THE UNPRESENTABLE APPEARANCE OF<br> -COLONEL CRANE</h2> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> - -<p class="ph2">TALES OF THE LONG BOW</p> - -<p class="ph1">I<br> - -THE UNPRESENTABLE APPEARANCE OF<br> -COLONEL CRANE</p> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THESE tales concern the doing of things -recognized as impossible to do; impossible -to believe; and, as the weary reader may -well cry aloud, impossible to read about. Did the -narrator merely say that they happened, without -saying how they happened, they could easily be -classified with the cow who jumped over the moon -and the more introspective individual who jumped -down his own throat. In short, they are all tall -stories; and though tall stories may also be true -stories, there is something in the very phrase appropriate -to such a topsy-turvydom; for the logician -will presumably class a tall story with a corpulent -epigram or a long-legged essay. It is only proper -that such impossible incidents should begin in the -most prim and prosaic of all places, at the most -prim and prosaic of all times, and apparently with -the most prim and prosaic of all human beings.</p> - -<p>The place was a straight suburban road of strictly-fenced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -suburban houses on the outskirts of a modern -town. The time was about twenty minutes to -eleven on Sunday morning, when a procession of -suburban families in their Sunday clothes were passing -decorously up the road to church. And the man -was a very respectable retired military man named -Colonel Crane, who was also going to church, as he -had done every Sunday at the same hour for a long -stretch of years. There was no obvious difference -between him and his neighbours, except that he was -a little less obvious. His house was only called -White Lodge and was, therefore, less alluring to -the romantic passer-by than Rowanmere on the one -side or Heatherbrae on the other. He turned out -spick and span for church as if for parade; but he -was much too well dressed to be pointed out as a -well-dressed man. He was quite handsome in a -dry, sun-baked style; but his bleached blond hair -was a colourless sort that could look either light -brown or pale grey; and though his blue eyes were -clear, they looked out a little heavily under lowered -lids. Colonel Crane was something of a survival. -He was not really old; indeed he was barely middle-aged; -and had gained his last distinctions in the -great war. But a variety of causes had kept him -true to the traditional type of the old professional -soldier, as it had existed before 1914; when a small -parish would have only one colonel as it had only -one curate. It would be quite unjust to call him a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> -dug-out; indeed, it would be much truer to call him -a dug-in. For he had remained in the traditions as -firmly and patiently as he had remained in the -trenches. He was simply a man who happened to -have no taste for changing his habits, and had never -worried about conventions enough to alter them. -One of his excellent habits was to go to church at -eleven o’clock, and he therefore went there; and did -not know that there went with him something of an -old-world air and a passage in the history of England.</p> - -<p>As he came out of his front door, however, on -that particular morning, he was twisting a scrap of -paper in his fingers and frowning with somewhat -unusual perplexity. Instead of walking straight to -his garden gate he walked once or twice up and -down his front garden, swinging his black walking-cane. -The note had been handed in to him at -breakfast, and it evidently involved some practical -problem calling for immediate solution. He stood a -few minutes with his eye riveted on a red daisy at -the corner of the nearest flower-bed; and then a -new expression began to work in the muscles of his -bronzed face, giving a slightly grim hint of humour, -of which few except his intimates were aware. Folding -up the paper and putting it into his waistcoat -pocket, he strolled round the house to the back -garden, behind which was the kitchen-garden, in -which an old servant, a sort of factotum or handyman, -named Archer, was acting as kitchen-gardener.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>Archer also was a survival. Indeed, the two had -survived together; had survived a number of things -that had killed a good many other people. But -though they had been together through the war that -was also a revolution, and had a complete confidence -in each other, the man Archer had never been able -to lose the oppressive manners of a manservant. He -performed the duties of a gardener with the air of -a butler. He really performed the duties very well -and enjoyed them very much; perhaps he enjoyed -them all the more because he was a clever Cockney, -to whom the country crafts were a new hobby. But -somehow, whenever he said, “I have put in the -seeds, sir,” it always sounded like, “I have put the -sherry on the table, sir”; and he could not say, -“Shall I pull the carrots?” without seeming to say, -“Would you be requiring the claret?”</p> - -<p>“I hope you’re not working on Sunday,” said the -Colonel, with a much more pleasant smile than most -people got from him, though he was always polite to -everybody. “You’re getting too fond of these rural -pursuits. You’ve become a rustic yokel.”</p> - -<p>“I was venturing to examine the cabbages, sir,” -replied the rustic yokel, with a painful precision of -articulation. “Their condition yesterday evening -did not strike me as satisfactory.”</p> - -<p>“Glad you didn’t sit up with them,” answered the -Colonel. “But it’s lucky you’re interested in cabbages. -I want to talk to you about cabbages.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>“About cabbages, sir?” inquired the other respectfully.</p> - -<p>But the Colonel did not appear to pursue the topic, -for he was gazing in sudden abstraction at another -object in the vegetable plots in front of him. The -Colonel’s garden, like the Colonel’s house, hat, coat -and demeanour, was well-appointed in an unobtrusive -fashion; and in the part of it devoted to -flowers there dwelt something indefinable that -seemed older than the suburbs. The hedges, even, -in being as neat as Surbiton managed to look as mellow -as Hampton Court, as if their very artificiality -belonged rather to Queen Anne than Queen Victoria; -and the stone-rimmed pond with a ring of irises -somehow looked like a classic pool and not merely an -artificial puddle. It is idle to analyse how a man’s -soul and social type will somehow soak into his surroundings; -anyhow, the soul of Mr. Archer had sunk -into the kitchen-garden so as to give it a fine shade -of difference. He was after all a practical man, and -the practice of his new trade was much more of a -real appetite with him than his words would suggest. -Hence the kitchen-garden was not artificial, but -autochthonous; it really looked like a corner of a -farm in the country; and all sorts of practical devices -were set up there. Strawberries were netted-in -against the birds; strings were stretched across with -feathers fluttering from them; and in the middle of -the principal bed stood an ancient and authentic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -scarecrow. Perhaps the only incongruous intruder, -capable of disputing with the scarecrow his rural -reign, was the curious boundary-stone which marked -the edge of his domain; and which was, in fact, a -shapeless South Sea idol, planted there with no more -appropriateness than a door-scraper. But Colonel -Crane would not have been so complete a type of -the old army man if he had not hidden somewhere a -hobby connected with his travels. His hobby had at -one time been savage folklore; and he had the relic -of it on the edge of the kitchen-garden. At the -moment, however, he was not looking at the idol, but -at the scarecrow.</p> - -<p>“By the way, Archer,” he said, “don’t you think -the scarecrow wants a new hat?”</p> - -<p>“I should hardly think it would be necessary, sir,” -said the gardener gravely.</p> - -<p>“But look here,” said the Colonel, “you must -consider the philosophy of scarecrows. In theory, -that is supposed to convince some rather simple-minded -bird that I am walking in my garden. That -thing with the unmentionable hat is Me. A trifle -sketchy, perhaps. Sort of impressionist portrait; -but hardly likely to impress. Man with a hat like -that would never be really firm with a sparrow. -Conflict of wills, and all that, and I bet the sparrow -would come out on top. By the way, what’s that -stick tied on to it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>“I believe, sir,” said Archer, “that it is supposed -to represent a gun.”</p> - -<p>“Held at a highly unconvincing angle,” observed -Crane. “Man with a hat like that would be sure to -miss.”</p> - -<p>“Would you desire me to procure another hat?” -inquired the patient Archer.</p> - -<p>“No, no,” answered his master carelessly. “As -the poor fellow’s got such a rotten hat, I’ll give him -mine. Like the scene of St. Martin and the beggar.”</p> - -<p>“Give him yours,” repeated Archer respectfully, -but faintly.</p> - -<p>The Colonel took off his burnished top-hat and -gravely placed it on the head of the South Sea -idol at his feet. It had a queer effect of bringing the -grotesque lump of stone to life, as if a goblin in a top-hat -was grinning at the garden.</p> - -<p>“You think the hat shouldn’t be quite new?” he inquired -almost anxiously. “Not done among the best -scarecrows, perhaps. Well, let’s see what we can do -to mellow it a little.”</p> - -<p>He whirled up his walking-stick over his head and -laid a smacking stroke across the silk hat, smashing -it over the hollow eyes of the idol.</p> - -<p>“Softened with the touch of time now, I think,” -he remarked, holding out the silken remnants to the -gardener. “Put it on the scarecrow, my friend; I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -don’t want it. You can bear witness it’s no use -to me.”</p> - -<p>Archer obeyed like an automaton, an automaton -with rather round eyes.</p> - -<p>“We must hurry up,” said the Colonel cheerfully, -“I was early for church, but I’m afraid I’m a bit -late now.”</p> - -<p>“Did you propose to attend church without a hat, -sir?” asked the other.</p> - -<p>“Certainly not. Most irreverent,” said the -Colonel. “Nobody should neglect to remove his hat -on entering church. Well, if I haven’t got a hat, -I shall neglect to remove it. Where is your reasoning -power this morning? No, no, just dig up one of -your cabbages.”</p> - -<p>Once more the well-trained servant managed to -repeat the word “Cabbages” with his own strict accent; -but in its constriction there was a hint of -strangulation.</p> - -<p>“Yes, go and pull up a cabbage, there’s a good -fellow,” said the Colonel. “I must really be getting -along; I believe I heard it strike eleven.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Archer moved heavily in the direction of the -plot of cabbages, which swelled with monstrous contours -and many colours; objects, perhaps, more -worthy of the philosophic eye than is taken into account -by the more flippant tongue. Vegetables are -curious-looking things and less commonplace than -they sound. If we called a cabbage a cactus, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -some such queer name, we might see it as an equally -queer thing.</p> - -<p>These philosophical truths did the Colonel reveal -by anticipating the dubious Archer, and dragging a -great, green cabbage with its trailing root out of the -earth. He then picked up a sort of pruning-knife -and cut short the long tail of the root; scooped out -the inside leaves so as to make a sort of hollow, and -gravely reversing it, placed it on his head. -Napoleon and other military princes have crowned -themselves; and he, like the Cæsars, wore a wreath -that was, after all, made of green leaves or vegetation. -Doubtless there are other comparisons that -might occur to any philosophical historian who -should look at it in the abstract.</p> - -<p>The people going to church certainly looked at it; -but they did not look at it in the abstract. To them -it appeared singularly concrete; and indeed incredibly -solid. The inhabitants of Rowanmere and -Heatherbrae followed the Colonel as he strode almost -jauntily up the road, with feelings that no philosophy -could for the moment meet. There seemed to be -nothing to be said, except that one of the most -respectable and respected of their neighbours, one -who might even be called in a quiet way a pattern of -good form if not a leader of fashion, was walking -solemnly up to church with a cabbage on the top of -his head.</p> - -<p>There was indeed no corporate action to meet the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> -crisis. Their world was not one in which a crowd -can collect to shout, and still less to jeer. No rotten -eggs could be collected from their tidy breakfast-tables; -and they were not of the sort to throw -cabbage-stalks at the cabbage. Perhaps there was -just that amount of truth in the pathetically picturesque -names on their front gates, names suggestive -of mountains and mighty lakes concealed -somewhere on the premises. It was true that in one -sense such a house was a hermitage. Each of these -men lived alone and they could not be made into a -mob. For miles around there was no public house -and no public opinion.</p> - -<p>As the Colonel approached the church porch and -prepared reverently to remove his vegetarian headgear, -he was hailed in a tone a little more hearty -than the humane civility that was the slender bond of -that society. He returned the greeting without embarrassment, -and paused a moment as the man who -had spoken to him plunged into further speech. He -was a young doctor named Horace Hunter, tall, -handsomely dressed, and confident in manner; and -though his features were rather plain and his hair -rather red, he was considered to have a certain fascination.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Colonel,” said the doctor in his -resounding tones, “what a f—— what a fine day -it is.”</p> - -<p>Stars turned from their courses like comets, so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -to speak, and the world swerved into wilder possibilities, -at that crucial moment when Dr. Hunter corrected -himself and said, “What a fine day!” instead -of “What a funny hat!”</p> - -<p>As to why he corrected himself, a true picture of -what passed through his mind might sound rather -fanciful in itself. It would be less than explicit to -say he did so because of a long grey car waiting outside -the White Lodge. It might not be a complete -explanation to say it was due to a lady walking on -stilts at a garden party. Some obscurity might remain, -even if we said that it had something to do with -a soft shirt and a nickname; nevertheless all these -things mingled in the medical gentleman’s mind when -he made his hurried decision. Above all, it might or -might not be sufficient explanation to say that -Horace Hunter was a very ambitious young man, -that the ring in his voice and the confidence in his -manner came from a very simple resolution to rise -in the world, and that the world in question was -rather worldly.</p> - -<p>He liked to be seen talking so confidently to -Colonel Crane on that Sunday parade. Crane was -comparatively poor, but he knew People. And -people who knew People knew what People were -doing now; whereas people who didn’t know People -could only wonder what in the world People would -do next. A lady who came with the Duchess when -she opened the Bazaar had nodded to Crane and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -said, “Hullo, Stork,” and the doctor had deduced -that it was a sort of family joke and not a momentary -ornithological confusion. And it was the Duchess -who had started all that racing on stilts, which the -Vernon-Smiths had introduced at Heatherbrae. -But it would have been devilish awkward not to -have known what Mrs. Vernon-Smith meant when -she said, “Of course you stilt.” You never knew -what they would start next. He remembered how -he himself had thought the first man in a soft shirtfront -was some funny fellow from nowhere; and -then he had begun to see others here and there, and -had found that it was not a <i>faux pas</i>, but a fashion. -It was odd to imagine he would ever begin to see -vegetable hats here and there, but you never could -tell; and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake -again. His first medical impulse had been to add -to the Colonel’s fancy costume with a strait-waistcoat. -But Crane did not look like a lunatic, -and certainly did not look like a man playing a -practical joke. He had not the stiff and self-conscious -solemnity of the joker. He took it quite -naturally. And one thing was certain: if it really -was the latest thing, the doctor must take it as -naturally as the Colonel did. So he said it was a fine -day, and was gratified to learn that there was no -disagreement on that question.</p> - -<p>The doctor’s dilemma, if we may apply the phrase, -had been the whole neighbourhood’s dilemma. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -doctor’s decision was also the whole neighbourhood’s -decision. It was not so much that most of the good -people there shared in Hunter’s serious social ambitions, -but rather that they were naturally prone to -negative and cautious decisions. They lived in a -delicate dread of being interfered with; and they -were just enough to apply the principle by not interfering -with other people. They had also a subconscious -sense that the mild and respectable military -gentleman would not be altogether an easy -person to interfere with. The consequence was that -the Colonel carried his monstrous green headgear -about the streets of that suburb for nearly a week, -and nobody ever mentioned the subject to him. It -was about the end of that time (while the doctor had -been scanning the horizon for aristocrats crowned -with cabbage, and, not seeing any, was summoning -his natural impudence to speak) that the final interruption -came; and with the interruption the explanation.</p> - -<p>The Colonel had every appearance of having forgotten -all about the hat. He took it off and on like -any other hat; he hung it on the hat-peg in his -narrow front hall where there was nothing else but -his sword hung on two hooks and an old brown map -of the seventeenth century. He handed it to Archer -when that correct character seemed to insist on his -official right to hold it; he did not insist on his official -right to brush it, for fear it should fall to pieces; but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -he occasionally gave it a cautious shake, accompanied -with a look of restrained distaste. But the -Colonel himself never had any appearance of either -liking or disliking it. The unconventional thing had -already become one of his conventions—the conventions -which he never considered enough to violate. -It is probable, therefore, that what ultimately took -place was as much of a surprise to him as to anybody. -Anyhow, the explanation, or explosion, came -in the following fashion.</p> - -<p>Mr. Vernon-Smith, the mountaineer whose foot -was on his native heath at Heatherbrae, was a small, -dapper gentleman with a big-bridged nose, dark -moustache, and dark eyes with a settled expression -of anxiety, though nobody knew what there was to -be anxious about in his very solid social existence. -He was a friend of Dr. Hunter; one might almost -say a humble friend. For he had the negative snobbishness -that could only admire the positive and -progressive snobbishness of that soaring and social -figure. A man like Dr. Hunter likes to have a -man like Mr. Smith, before whom he can pose as -a perfect man of the world. What appears more -extraordinary, a man like Mr. Smith really likes -to have a man like Dr. Hunter to pose at him and -swagger over him and snub him. Anyhow, Vernon-Smith -had ventured to hint that the new hat of his -neighbour Crane was not of a pattern familiar in -every fashion-plate. And Dr. Hunter, bursting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -with the secret of his own original diplomacy, had -snubbed the suggestion and snowed it under with -frosty scorn. With shrewd, resolute gestures, with -large allusive phrases, he had left on his friend’s -mind the impression that the whole social world -would dissolve if a word were said on so delicate -a topic. Mr. Vernon-Smith formed a general idea -that the Colonel would explode with a loud bang at -the very vaguest allusion to vegetables, or the most -harmless adumbration or verbal shadow of a hat. -As usually happens in such cases, the words he was -forbidden to say repeated themselves perpetually in -his mind with the rhythmic pressure of a pulse. It -was his temptation at the moment to call all houses -hats and all visitors vegetables.</p> - -<p>When Crane came out of his front gate that -morning he found his neighbour Vernon-Smith -standing outside, between the spreading laburnum -and the lamp-post, talking to a young lady, a distant -cousin of his family. This girl was an art -student on her own—a little too much on her own -for the standards of Heatherbrae, and, therefore -(some would infer), yet further beyond those of -White Lodge. Her brown hair was bobbed, and the -Colonel did not admire bobbed hair. On the other -hand, she had a rather attractive face, with honest -brown eyes a little too wide apart, which diminished -the impression of beauty but increased the impression -of honesty. She also had a very fresh and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -unaffected voice, and the Colonel had often heard -it calling out scores at tennis on the other side of -the garden wall. In some vague sort of way it -made him feel old; at least, he was not sure whether -he felt older than he was, or younger than he ought -to be. It was not until they met under the lamp-post -that he knew her name was Audrey Smith; and -he was faintly thankful for the single monosyllable. -Mr. Vernon-Smith presented her, and very nearly -said: “May I introduce my cabbage?” instead of -“my cousin.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel, with unaffected dullness, said it was -a fine day; and his neighbour, rallying from his -last narrow escape, continued the talk with animation. -His manner, as when he poked his big nose -and beady black eyes into local meetings and committees, -was at once hesitating and emphatic.</p> - -<p>“This young lady is going in for Art,” he said; -“a poor look-out, isn’t it? I expect we shall see -her drawing in chalk on the paving-stones and expecting -us to throw a penny into the—into a tray, -or something.” Here he dodged another danger. -“But, of course, she thinks she is going to be an -R.A.”</p> - -<p>“I hope not,” said the young woman hotly. -“Pavement artists are much more honest than most -of the R.A.’s.”</p> - -<p>“I wish those friends of yours didn’t give you -such revolutionary ideas,” said Mr. Vernon-Smith.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -“My cousin knows the most dreadful cranks, vegetarians -and—and Socialists.” He chanced it, feeling -that vegetarians were not quite the same as -vegetables; and he felt sure the Colonel would share -his horror of Socialists. “People who want us to -be equal, and all that. What I say is—we’re not -equal and we never can be. As I always say to -Audrey—if all the property were divided to-morrow, -it would go back into the same hands. It’s a law of -nature, and if a man thinks he can get round a law -of nature, why, he’s talking through his—I mean, -he’s as mad as a——”</p> - -<p>Recoiling from the omnipresent image, he groped -madly in his mind for the alternative of a March -hare. But before he could find it, the girl had cut -in and completed his sentence. She smiled serenely, -and said in her clear and ringing tones:</p> - -<p>“As mad as Colonel Crane’s hatter.”</p> - -<p>It is not unjust to Mr. Vernon-Smith to say that -he fled as from a dynamite explosion. It would be -unjust to say that he deserted a lady in distress, for -she did not look in the least like a distressed lady, -and he himself was a very distressed gentleman. He -attempted to wave her indoors with some wild pretext, -and eventually vanished there himself with an -equally random apology. But the other two took no -notice of him; they continued to confront each other, -and both were smiling.</p> - -<p>“I think you must be the bravest man in England,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> -she said. “I don’t mean anything about the war, -or the D.S.O. and all that; I mean about this. Oh, -yes, I do know a little about you, but there’s one -thing I don’t know. Why do you do it?”</p> - -<p>“I think it is you who are the bravest woman in -England,” he answered, “or, at any rate, the bravest -person in these parts. I’ve walked about this -town for a week, feeling like the last fool in creation, -and expecting somebody to say something. And -not a soul has said a word. They seem all to be -afraid of saying the wrong thing.”</p> - -<p>“I think they’re deadly,” observed Miss Smith. -“And if they don’t have cabbages for hats, it’s only -because they have turnips for heads.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said the Colonel gently; “I have many -generous and friendly neighbours here, including -your cousin. Believe me, there is a case for conventions, -and the world is wiser than you know. -You are too young not to be intolerant. But I can -see you’ve got the fighting spirit; that is the best -part of youth and intolerance. When you said that -word just now, by Jove you looked like Britomart.”</p> - -<p>“She is the Militant Suffragette in the Faerie -Queene, isn’t she?” answered the girl. “I’m afraid -I don’t know my English literature as well as you -do. You see, I’m an artist, or trying to be one; and -some people say that narrows a person. But I can’t -help getting cross with all the varnished vulgarity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -they talk about everything—look at what he said -about Socialism.”</p> - -<p>“It was a little superficial,” said Crane with a -smile.</p> - -<p>“And that,” she concluded, “is why I admire your -hat, though I don’t know why you wear it.”</p> - -<p>This trivial conversation had a curious effect on -the Colonel. There went with it a sort of warmth -and a sense of crisis that he had not known since -the war. A sudden purpose formed itself in his -mind, and he spoke like one stepping across a -frontier.</p> - -<p>“Miss Smith,” he said, “I wonder if I might ask -you to pay me a further compliment. It may be -unconventional, but I believe you do not stand on -these conventions. An old friend of mine will be -calling on me shortly, to wind up the rather unusual -business or ceremonial of which you have -chanced to see a part. If you would do me the -honour to lunch with me to-morrow at half-past one, -the true story of the cabbage awaits you. I promise -that you shall hear the real reason. I might even -say I promise you shall <i>see</i> the real reason.”</p> - -<p>“Why, of course I will,” said the unconventional -one heartily. “Thanks awfully.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel took an intense interest in the appointments -of the luncheon next day. With subconscious -surprise he found himself not only interested,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -but excited. Like many of his type, he took -pleasure in doing such things well, and knew his -way about in wine and cookery. But that would not -alone explain his pleasure. For he knew that young -women generally know very little about wine, and -emancipated young women possibly least of all. And -though he meant the cookery to be good, he knew -that in one feature it would appear rather fantastic. -Again, he was a good-natured gentleman who would -always have liked young people to enjoy a luncheon -party, as he would have liked a child to enjoy a -Christmas tree. But there seemed no reason why -he should be restless and expectant about it, as if he -were the child himself. There was no reason why -he should have a sort of happy insomnia, like a child -on Christmas Eve. There was really no excuse for -his pacing up and down the garden with his cigar, -smoking furiously far into the night. For as he -gazed at the purple irises and the grey pool in the -faint moonshine, something in his feelings passed -as if from the one tint to the other; he had a new -and unexpected reaction. For the first time he -really hated the masquerade he had made himself -endure. He wished he could smash the cabbage as -he had smashed the top-hat. He was little more -than forty years old; but he had never realized how -much there was of what was dried and faded about -his flippancy, till he felt unexpectedly swelling within -him the monstrous and solemn vanity of a young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -man. Sometimes he looked up at the picturesque, -the too picturesque, outline of the villa next door, -dark against the moonrise, and thought he heard -faint voices in it, and something like a laugh.</p> - -<p>The visitor who called on the Colonel next morning -may have been an old friend, but he was certainly -an odd contrast. He was a very abstracted, -rather untidy man in a rusty knickerbocker suit; -he had a long head with straight hair of the dark -red called auburn, one or two wisps of which stood -on end however he brushed it, and a long face, clean-shaven -and heavy about the jaw and chin, which he -had a way of sinking and settling squarely into his -cravat. His name was Hood, and he was apparently -a lawyer, though he had not come on strictly legal -business. Anyhow, he exchanged greetings with -Crane with a quiet warmth and gratification, smiled -at the old manservant as if he were an old joke, -and showed every sign of an appetite for his -luncheon.</p> - -<p>The appointed day was singularly warm and bright -and everything in the garden seemed to glitter; the -goblin god of the South Seas seemed really to grin; -and the scarecrow really to have a new hat. The -irises round the pool were swinging and flapping in -a light breeze; and he remembered they were called -“flags” and thought of purple banners going into -battle.</p> - -<p>She had come suddenly round the corner of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -house. Her dress was of a dark but vivid blue, very -plain and angular in outline, but not outrageously -artistic; and in the morning light she looked less like -a schoolgirl and more like a serious woman of -twenty-five or thirty; a little older and a great deal -more interesting. And something in this morning -seriousness increased the reaction of the night before. -One single wave of thanksgiving went up from Crane -to think that at least his grotesque green hat was -gone and done with for ever. He had worn it for -a week without caring a curse for anybody; but during -that ten minutes’ trivial talk under the lamp-post, -he felt as if he had suddenly grown donkey’s -ears in the street.</p> - -<p>He had been induced by the sunny weather to have -a little table laid for three in a sort of veranda open -to the garden. When the three sat down to it, he -looked across at the lady and said: “I fear I must -exhibit myself as a crank; one of those cranks your -cousin disapproves of, Miss Smith. I hope it won’t -spoil this little lunch for anybody else. But I am -going to have a vegetarian meal.”</p> - -<p>“Are you?” she said. “I should never have said -you looked like a vegetarian.”</p> - -<p>“Just lately I have only looked like a fool,” he -said dispassionately; “but I think I’d sooner look a -fool than a vegetarian in the ordinary way. This is -rather a special occasion. Perhaps my friend Hood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -had better begin; it’s really his story more than -mine.”</p> - -<p>“My name is Robert Owen Hood,” said that -gentleman, rather sardonically. “That’s how improbable -reminiscences often begin; but the only -point now is that my old friend here insulted me -horribly by calling me Robin Hood.”</p> - -<p>“I should have called it a compliment,” answered -Audrey Smith. “But why did he call you Robin -Hood?”</p> - -<p>“Because I drew the long bow,” said the lawyer.</p> - -<p>“But to do you justice,” said the Colonel, “it -seems that you hit the bull’s-eye.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke Archer came in bearing a dish which -he placed before his master. He had already served -the others with the earlier courses, but he carried -this one with the pomp of one bringing in the boar’s -head at Christmas. It consisted of a plain boiled -cabbage.</p> - -<p>“I was challenged to do something,” went on -Hood, “which my friend here declared to be impossible. -In fact, any sane man would have declared it -to be impossible. But I did it for all that. Only -my friend, in the heat of rejecting and ridiculing the -notion, made use of a hasty expression. I might -almost say he made a rash vow.”</p> - -<p>“My exact words were,” said Colonel Crane -solemnly: “‘If you can do that, I’ll eat my hat.’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>He leaned forward thoughtfully and began to eat -it. Then he resumed in the same reflective way:</p> - -<p>“You see, all rash vows are verbal or nothing. -There might be a debate about the logical and literal -way in which my friend Hood fulfilled <i>his</i> rash vow. -But I put it to myself in the same pedantic sort of -way. It wasn’t possible to eat any hat that I -wore. But it might be possible to wear a hat that -I could eat. Articles of dress could hardly be used -for diet; but articles of diet could really be used for -dress. It seemed to me that I might fairly be said -to have made it my hat, if I wore it systematically -as a hat and had no other, putting up with all the -disadvantages. Making a blasted fool of myself -was the fair price to be paid for the vow or wager; -for one ought always to lose something on a wager.”</p> - -<p>And he rose from the table with a gesture of -apology.</p> - -<p>The girl stood up. “I think it’s perfectly -splendid,” she said. “It’s as wild as one of those -stories about looking for the Holy Grail.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer also had risen, rather abruptly, and -stood stroking his long chin with his thumb and -looking at his old friend under bent brows in a -rather reflective manner.</p> - -<p>“Well, you’ve subpœna’d me as a witness all -right,” he said, “and now, with the permission of the -court, I’ll leave the witness-box. I’m afraid I must<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -be going. I’ve got important business at home. -Good-bye, Miss Smith.”</p> - -<p>The girl returned his farewell a little mechanically; -and Crane seemed to recover suddenly from -a similar trance as he stepped after the retreating -figure of his friend.</p> - -<p>“I say, Owen,” he said hastily, “I’m sorry you’re -leaving so early. Must you really go?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Owen Hood gravely. “My private -affairs are quite real and practical, I assure you.” -His grave mouth worked a little humorously at the -corners as he added: “The truth is, I don’t think -I mentioned it, but I’m thinking of getting married.”</p> - -<p>“Married!” repeated the Colonel, as if thunderstruck.</p> - -<p>“Thanks for your compliments and congratulations, -old fellow,” said the satiric Mr. Hood. “Yes, -it’s all been thought out. I’ve even decided whom I -am going to marry. She knows about it herself. -She has been warned.”</p> - -<p>“I really beg your pardon,” said the Colonel in -great distress, “of course I congratulate you most -heartily; and her even more heartily. Of course -I’m delighted to hear it. The truth is, I was surprised ... -not so much in that way....”</p> - -<p>“Not so much in what way?” asked Hood. “I -suppose you mean some would say I am on the -way to be an old bachelor. But I’ve discovered it -isn’t half so much a matter of years as of ways.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -Men like me get elderly more by choice than chance; -and there’s much more choice and less chance in life -than your modern fatalists make out. For such -people fatalism falsifies even chronology. They’re -not unmarried because they’re old. They’re old because -they’re unmarried.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed you are mistaken,” said Crane earnestly. -“As I say, I was surprised, but my surprise was not -so rude as you think. It wasn’t that I thought -there was anything unfitting about ... somehow -it was rather the other way ... as if things could -fit better than one thought ... as if—but anyhow, -little as I know about it, I really do congratulate -you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you all about it before long,” replied his -friend. “It’s enough to say just now that it was all -bound up with my succeeding after all in doing—what -I did. She was the inspiration, you know. I -have done what is called an impossible thing; but -believe me, she is the really impossible part of it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I must not keep you from such an impossible -engagement,” said Crane smiling. “Really, -I’m confoundedly glad to hear about all this. Well, -good-bye for the present.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Crane stood watching the square shoulders -and russet mane of his old friend, as they disappeared -down the road, in a rather indescribable -state of mind. As he turned hastily back towards -his garden and his other guest, he was conscious of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -change; things seemed different in some lightheaded -and illogical fashion. He could not himself -trace the connexion; indeed, he did not know -whether it was a connexion or a disconnexion. He -was very far from being a fool; but his brains were -of the sort that are directed outwards to things; the -brains of the soldier or the scientific man; and he -had no practice in analysing his own mind. He did -not quite understand why the news about Owen -Hood should give him that dazed sense of a difference -in things in general. Doubtless he was very fond -of Owen Hood; but he had been fond of other people -who had got married without especially disturbing -the atmosphere of his own back garden. He -even dimly felt that mere affection might have -worked the other way; that it might have made him -worry about Hood, and wonder whether Hood was -making a fool of himself, or even feel suspicious or -jealous of Mrs. Hood—if there had not been something -else that made him feel quite the other way. -He could not quite understand it; there seemed to be -an increasing number of things that he could not understand. -This world in which he himself wore garlands -of green cabbage and in which his old friend -the lawyer got married suddenly like a man going -mad—this world was a new world, at once fresh and -frightening, in which he could hardly understand -the figures that were walking about, even his own. -The flowers in the flower-pots had a new look about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -them, at once bright and nameless; and even the line -of vegetables beyond could not altogether depress -him with the memories of recent levity. Had he -indeed been a prophet, or a visionary seeing the -future, he might have seen that green line of cabbages -extending infinitely like a green sea to the -horizon. For he stood at the beginning of a story -which was not to terminate until his incongruous -cabbage had come to mean something that he had -never meant by it. That green patch was to spread -like a great green conflagration almost to the ends of -the earth. But he was a practical person and the -very reverse of a prophet; and like many other -practical persons, he often did things without very -clearly knowing what he was doing. He had the -innocence of some patriarch or primitive hero in the -morning of the world, founding more than he could -himself realize of his legend and his line. Indeed -he felt very much like somebody in the morning of -the world; but beyond that he could grasp nothing.</p> - -<p>Audrey Smith was standing not so very many -yards away; for it was only for a few strides that he -had followed his elder guest towards the gate. Yet -her figure had fallen far enough back out of the -foreground to take on the green framework of the -garden; so that her dress might almost have been -blue with a shade of distance. And when she spoke -to him, even from that little way off, her voice took -on inevitably a new suggestion of one calling out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> -familiarly and from afar, as one calls to an old companion. -It moved him in a disproportionate fashion, -though all that she said was:</p> - -<p>“What became of your old hat?”</p> - -<p>“I lost it,” he replied gravely, “obviously I had -to lose it. I believe the scarecrow found it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do let’s go and look at the scarecrow,” she -cried.</p> - -<p>He led her without a word to the kitchen-garden -and gravely explained each of its outstanding features; -from the serious Mr. Archer resting on his -spade to the grotesque South Sea Island god grinning -at the corner of the plot. He spoke as with an -increasing solemnity and verbosity, and all the time -knew little or nothing of what he said.</p> - -<p>At last she cut into his monologue with an abstraction -that was almost rude; yet her brown eyes were -bright and her sympathy undisguised.</p> - -<p>“Don’t talk about it,” she cried with illogical enthusiasm. -“It looks as if we were really right in the -middle of the country. It’s as unique as the Garden -of Eden. It’s simply the most delightful place——”</p> - -<p>It was at this moment, for some unaccountable -reason, that the Colonel who had lost his hat suddenly -proceeded to lose his head. Standing in that -grotesque vegetable scenery, a black and stiff yet -somehow stately figure, he proceeded in the most -traditional manner to offer the lady everything he -possessed, not forgetting the scarecrow or the cabbages;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -a half-humorous memory of which returned -to him with the boomerang of bathos.</p> - -<p>“When I think of the encumbrances on the estate—” -he concluded gloomily. “Well, there they -are; a scarecrow and a cannibal fetish and a stupid -man who has stuck in a rut of respectability and conventional -ways.”</p> - -<p>“Very conventional,” she said, “especially in his -taste in hats.”</p> - -<p>“That was the exception, I’m afraid,” he said -earnestly. “You’d find those things very rare and -most things very dull. I can’t help having fallen in -love with you; but for all that we are in different -worlds; and you belong to a younger world, which -says what it thinks, and cannot see what most of -our silences and our scruples meant.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose we are very rude,” she said thoughtfully, -“and you must certainly excuse me if I do say -what I think.”</p> - -<p>“I deserve no better,” he replied mournfully.</p> - -<p>“Well, I think I must be in love with you too,” -she replied calmly. “I don’t see what time has to -do with being fond of people. You are the most -original person I ever knew.”</p> - -<p>“My dear, my dear,” he protested almost brokenly, -“I fear you are making a mistake. Whatever else -I am, I never set up to be original.”</p> - -<p>“You must remember,” she replied, “that I have -known a good many people who did set up to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -original. An Art School swarms with them; and -there are any number among those socialist and -vegetarian friends of mine you were talking about. -They would think nothing of wearing cabbages on -their heads, of course. Any one of them would be -capable of getting inside a pumpkin if he could. -Any one of them might appear in public dressed -entirely in watercress. But that’s just it. They -might well wear watercress for they are water-creatures; -they go with the stream. They do those -things because those things are done; because they -are done in their own Bohemian set. Unconventionality -is their convention. I don’t mind it myself; -I think it’s great fun; but that doesn’t mean that I -don’t know real strength or independence when I see -it. All that is just molten and formless; but the -really strong man is one who can make a mould and -then break it. When a man like you can suddenly -do a thing like that, after twenty years of habit, -for the sake of his word, then somehow one really -does feel that man is man and master of his fate.”</p> - -<p>“I doubt if I am master of my fate,” replied -Crane, “and I do not know whether I ceased to be -yesterday or two minutes ago.”</p> - -<p>He stood there for a moment like a man in heavy -armour. Indeed, the antiquated image is not inappropriate -in more ways than one. The new world -within him was so alien from the whole habit in -which he lived, from the very gait and gestures of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -daily life, conducted through countless days, that -his spirit had striven before it broke its shell. But -it was also true that even if he could have done what -every man wishes to do at such a moment, something -supreme and satisfying, it would have been something -in a sense formal or it would not have satisfied -him. He was one of those to whom it is natural to -be ceremonial. Even the music in his mind, too deep -and distant for him to catch or echo, was the music -of old and ritual dances and not of revelry; and -it was not for nothing that he had built gradually -about him that garden of the grey stone fountain -and the great hedge of yew. He bent suddenly and -kissed her hand.</p> - -<p>“I like that,” she said. “You ought to have powdered -hair and a sword.”</p> - -<p>“I apologize,” he said gravely, “no modern man -is worthy of you. But indeed I fear, in every sense -I am not a very modern man.”</p> - -<p>“You must never wear that hat again,” she said, -indicating the battered original topper.</p> - -<p>“To tell the truth,” he observed mildly, “I had -not any attention of resuming that one.”</p> - -<p>“Silly,” she said briefly, “I don’t mean that hat; -I mean that sort of hat. As a matter of fact, there -couldn’t be a finer hat than the cabbage.”</p> - -<p>“My dear—” he protested; but she was looking -at him quite seriously.</p> - -<p>“I told you I was an artist, and didn’t know much<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -about literature,” she said. “Well, do you know, it -really does make a difference. Literary people let -words get between them and things. We do at least -look at the things and not the names of the things. -You think a cabbage is comic because the name -sounds comic and even vulgar; something between -‘cab’ and ‘garbage,’ I suppose. But a cabbage isn’t -really comic or vulgar. You wouldn’t think so if -you simply had to paint it. Haven’t you seen Dutch -and Flemish galleries, and don’t you know what great -men painted cabbages? What they saw was certain -lines and colours; very wonderful lines and colours.”</p> - -<p>“It may be all very well in a picture,” he began -doubtfully.</p> - -<p>She suddenly laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>“You idiot,” she cried; “don’t you know you -looked perfectly splendid? The curves were like a -great turban of leaves and the root rose like the -spike of a helmet; it was rather like the turbaned -helmets on some of Rembrandt’s figures, with the -face like bronze in the shadows of green and purple. -That’s the sort of thing artists can see, who keep -their eyes and heads clear of words! And then you -want to apologize for not wearing that stupid stovepipe -covered with blacking, when you went about -wearing a coloured crown like a king. And you -were like a king in this country; for they were all -afraid of you.”</p> - -<p>As he continued a faint protest, her laughter took<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -on a more mischievous shade. “If you’d stuck to -it a little longer, I swear they’d all have been wearing -vegetables for hats. I swear I saw my cousin -the other day standing with a sort of trowel, and -looking irresolutely at a cabbage.”</p> - -<p>Then, after a pause, she said with a beautiful irrelevancy:</p> - -<p>“What was it Mr. Hood did that you said he -couldn’t do?”</p> - -<p>But these are tales of topsy-turvydom even in the -sense that they have to be told tail-foremost. And -he who would know the answer to that question must -deliver himself up to the intolerable tedium of reading -the story of The Improbable Success of Mr. -Owen Hood, and an interval must be allowed him -before such torments are renewed.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">II<br> - -THE IMPROBABLE SUCCESS OF<br> -MR. OWEN HOOD</h2> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> - -<p class="ph1">II<br> - -THE IMPROBABLE SUCCESS OF<br> -MR. OWEN HOOD</p> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">HEROES who have endured the heavy labour -of reading to the end the story of -The Unpresentable Appearance of Colonel -Crane are aware that his achievement was the -first of a series of feats counted impossible, like the -quests of the Arthurian knights. For the purpose -of this tale, in which the Colonel is but a secondary -figure, it is enough to say that he was long known -and respected, before his last escapade, as a respectable -and retired military man in a residential part of -Surrey, with a sunburnt complexion and an interest -in savage mythology. As a fact, however, he had -gathered the sunburn and the savage myths some -time before he had managed to collect the respectability -and the suburban residence. In his early -youth he had been a traveller of the adventurous -and even restless sort; and he only concerns -this story because he was a member of a sort of -club or clique of young men whose adventurousness -verged on extravagance. They were all eccentrics -of one kind or another, some professing extreme -revolutionary and some extreme reactionary opinions,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -and some both. Among the latter may be -classed Mr. Robert Owen Hood, the somewhat unlegal -lawyer who is the hero of this tale.</p> - -<p>Robert Owen Hood was Crane’s most intimate -and incongruous friend. Hood was from the first -as sedentary as Crane was adventurous. Hood was -to the end as casual as Crane was conventional. -The prefix of Robert Owen was a relic of a vague -revolutionary tradition in his family; but he inherited -along with it a little money that allowed him -to neglect the law and cultivate a taste for liberty -and for drifting and dreaming in lost corners of the -country, especially in the little hills between the -Severn and the Thames. In the upper reaches of -the latter river is an islet in which he loved especially -to sit fishing, a shabby but not commonplace figure -clad in grey, with a mane of rust-coloured hair and -a long face with a large chin, rather like Napoleon. -Beside him, on the occasion now in question, stood -the striking contrast of his alert military friend in -full travelling kit; being on the point of starting -for one of his odysseys in the South Seas.</p> - -<p>“Well,” demanded the impatient traveller in a -tone of remonstrance, “have you caught anything?”</p> - -<p>“You once asked me,” replied the angler placidly, -“what I meant by calling you a materialist. That is -what I meant by calling you a materialist.”</p> - -<p>“If one must be a materialist or a madman,” -snorted the soldier, “give me materialism.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>“On the contrary,” replied his friend, “your fad is -far madder than mine. And I doubt if it’s any more -fruitful. The moment men like you see a man sitting -by a river with a rod, they are insanely impelled -to ask him what he has caught. But when -you go off to shoot big game, as you call it, nobody -asks you what you have caught. Nobody expects -you to bring home a hippopotamus for supper. Nobody -has ever seen you walking up Pall Mall, followed -respectfully by a captive giraffe. Your bag of -elephants, though enormous, seems singularly unobtrusive; -left in the cloak-room, no doubt. Personally, -I doubt if you ever catch anything. It’s -all decorously hidden in desert sand and dust and distance. -But what I catch is something far more -elusive, and as slippery as any fish. It is the soul of -England.”</p> - -<p>“I should think you’d catch a cold if not a fish,” -answered Crane, “sitting dangling your feet in a pool -like that. I like to move about a little more. -Dreaming is all very well in its way.”</p> - -<p>At this point a symbolic cloud ought to have come -across the sun, and a certain shadow of mystery -and silence must rest for a moment upon the narrative. -For it was at this moment that James -Crane, being blind with inspiration, uttered his celebrated -Prophecy, upon which this improbable narrative -turns. As was commonly the case with men -uttering omens, he was utterly unconscious of anything<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -ominous about what he said. A moment after -he would probably not know that he had said it. A -moment after, it was as if a cloud of strange shape -had indeed passed from the face of the sun.</p> - -<p>The prophecy had taken the form of a proverb. -In due time the patient, the all-suffering reader, may -learn what proverb. As it happened, indeed, the -conversation had largely consisted of proverbs; as is -often the case with men like Hood, whose hearts are -with that old English country life from which all the -proverbs came. But it was Crane who said:</p> - -<p>“It’s all very well to be fond of England; but a -man who wants to help England mustn’t let the -grass grow under his feet.”</p> - -<p>“And that’s just what I want to do,” answered -Hood. “That’s exactly what even your poor tired -people in big towns really want to do. When a -wretched clerk walks down Threadneedle Street, -wouldn’t he be really delighted if he could look down -and see the grass growing under his feet; a magic -green carpet in the middle of the pavement? It -would be like a fairy-tale.”</p> - -<p>“Well, but he wouldn’t sit like a stone as you do,” -replied the other. “A man might let the grass grow -under his feet without actually letting the ivy grow -up his legs. That sounds like a fairy-tale too, if -you like, but there’s no proverb to recommend it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, there are proverbs on my side, if you come -to that,” answered Hood laughing. “I might remind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -you about the rolling stone that gathers no moss.”</p> - -<p>“Well, who wants to gather moss except a few -fussy old ladies?” demanded Crane. “Yes, I’m a -rolling stone, I suppose; and I go rolling round the -earth as the earth goes rolling round the sun. But -I’ll tell you what; there’s one kind of stone that does -really gather moss.”</p> - -<p>“And what is that, my rambling geologist?”</p> - -<p>“A gravestone,” said Crane.</p> - -<p>There was a silence, and Hood sat gazing with his -owlish face at the dim pool in which the dark woods -were mirrored. At last he said:</p> - -<p>“Moss isn’t the only thing found on that. Sometimes -there is the word <i>Resurgam</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I hope you will,” said Crane genially. -“But the trumpet will have to be pretty loud to wake -you up. It’s my opinion you’ll be too late for the -Day of Judgment.”</p> - -<p>“Now if this were a true dramatic dialogue,” remarked -Hood, “I should answer that it would be -better for you if you were. But it hardly seems a -Christian sentiment for a parting. Are you really -off to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, to-night,” replied his friend. “Sure you -won’t come with me to the Cannibal Islands?”</p> - -<p>“I prefer my own island,” said Mr. Owen Hood.</p> - -<p>When his friend had gone he continued to gaze abstractedly -at the tranquil topsy-turvydom in the -green mirror of the pool, nor did he change his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -posture and hardly moved his head. This might -be partly explained by the still habits of a fisherman; -but to tell the truth, it was not easy to discover -whether the solitary lawyer really wanted to catch -any fish. He often carried a volume of Isaak Walton -in his pocket, having a love of the old English -literature as of the old English landscape. But if -he was an angler, he certainly was not a very complete -angler.</p> - -<p>But the truth is that Owen Hood had not been -quite candid with his friend about the spell that held -him to that particular islet in the Upper Thames. -If he had said, as he was quite capable of saying, -that he expected to catch the miraculous draught of -fishes or the whale that swallowed Jonah, or even the -great sea-serpent, his expressions would have been -merely symbolical. But they would have been the -symbol of something as unique and unattainable. -For Mr. Owen Hood was really fishing for something -that very few fishermen ever catch; and that was a -dream of his boyhood, and something that had happened -on that lonely spot long ago.</p> - -<p>Years before, when he was a very young man, he -had sat fishing on that island one evening as the -twilight turned to dark, and two or three broad bands -of silver were all that was left of the sunset behind -the darkening trees. The birds were dropping out -of the sky and there was no noise except the soft -noises of the river. Suddenly and without a sound,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -as comes a veritable vision, a girl had come out of -the woods opposite. She spoke to him across the -stream, asking him he hardly knew what, which he -answered he hardly knew how. She was dressed in -white and carried a bunch of bluebells loose in her -hand; her hair in a straight fringe of gold was low -on her forehead; she was pale like ivory, and her -pale eyelids had a sort of flutter as of nervous emotion. -There came on him a strangling sense of -stupidity. But he must have managed to speak -civilly, for she lingered; and he must have said -something to amuse her, for she laughed. Then followed -the incident he could never analyse, though -he was an introspective person. Making a gesture -towards something, she managed to drop her loose -blue flowers into the water. He knew not what sort -of whirlwind was in his head, but it seemed to him -that prodigious things were happening, as in an epic -of the gods, of which all visible things were but the -small signs. Before he knew where he was he was -standing dripping on the other bank; for he had -splashed in somehow and saved the bunch as if it -had been a baby drowning. Of all the things she -said he could only recall one sentence, that repeated -itself perpetually in his mind: “You’ll catch your -death of cold.”</p> - -<p>He only caught the cold and not the death; yet -even the notion of the latter did not somehow seem -disproportionate. The doctor, to whom he was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -forced to give some sort of explanation of his immersion, -was much interested in the story, or what -he heard of it, having a pleasure in working out the -pedigrees of the county families and the relationships -of the best houses in the neighbourhood. By some -rich process of elimination he deduced that the -lady must be Miss Elizabeth Seymour from Marley -Court. The doctor spoke with a respectful relish of -such things; he was a rising young practitioner -named Hunter, afterwards a neighbour of Colonel -Crane. He shared Hood’s admiration for the local -landscape, and said it was owing to the beautiful -way in which Marley Court was kept up.</p> - -<p>“It’s land-owners like that,” he said, “who have -made England. It’s all very well for Radicals to -talk; but where should we be without the land-owners?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m all for land-owners,” said Hood rather -wearily. “I like them so much I should like more -of them. More and more land-owners. Hundreds -and thousands of them.”</p> - -<p>It is doubtful whether Dr. Hunter quite followed -his enthusiasm, or even his meaning; but Hood had -reason later to remember this little conversation; so -far as he was in a mood to remember any conversations -except one.</p> - -<p>Anyhow, it were vain to disguise from the intelligent -though exhausted reader that this was probably<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -the true origin of Mr. Hood’s habit of sitting solidly -on that island and gazing abstractedly at that bank. -All through the years when he felt his first youth -was passing, and even when he seemed to be drifting -towards middle age, he haunted that valley like a -ghost, waiting for something that never came again. -It is by no means certain, in the last and most -subtle analysis, that he even expected it to come -again. Somehow it seemed too like a miracle for -that. Only this place had become the shrine of the -miracle; and he felt that if anything ever did happen -there, he must be there to see. And so it came -about that he was there to see when things did happen; -and rather queer things had happened before -the end.</p> - -<p>One morning he saw an extraordinary thing. -That indeed would not have seemed extraordinary -to most people; but it was quite apocalyptic to him. -A dusty man came out of the woods carrying what -looked like dusty pieces of timber, and proceeded -to erect on the bank what turned out to be a sort -of hoarding, a very large wooden notice-board on -which was written in enormous letters: “To Be -Sold,” with remarks in smaller letters about the land -and the name of the land agents. For the first -time for years Owen Hood stood up in his place and -left his fishing, and shouted questions across the -river. The man answered with the greatest patience<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -and good-humour; but it is probable that he went -away convinced that he had been talking to a wandering -lunatic.</p> - -<p>That was the beginning of what was for Owen -Hood a crawling nightmare. The change advanced -slowly, by a process covering years, but it seemed -to him all the time that he was helpless and paralysed -in its presence, precisely as a man is paralysed in -an actual nightmare. He laughed with an almost -horrible laughter to think that a man in a modern -society is supposed to be master of his fate and free -to pursue his pleasures; when he has not power to -prevent the daylight he looks on from being darkened, -or the air he breathes from being turned to poison, -or the silence that is his full possession from -being shaken with the cacophony of hell. There -was something, he thought grimly, in Dr. Hunter’s -simple admiration for agricultural aristocracy. -There was something in quite primitive and even -barbarous aristocracy. Feudal lords went in fitfully -for fights and forays; they put collars round the -necks of some serfs; they occasionally put halters -round the necks of a few of them. But they did not -wage war day and night against the five senses of -man.</p> - -<p>There had appeared first on the river-bank small -sheds and shanties, for workmen who seemed to be -rather lengthily occupied in putting up larger sheds -and shanties. To the very last, when the factory<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -was finished, it was not easy for a traditional eye -to distinguish between what was temporary and what -was permanent. It did not look as if any of it could -be permanent, if there was anything natural in the -nature of things, so to speak. But whatever was -the name and nature of that amorphous thing, it -swelled and increased and even multiplied without -clear division; until there stood on the river-bank a -great black patchwork block of buildings terminating -in a tall brick factory chimney from which a -stream of smoke mounted into the silent sky. A -heap of some sort of débris, scrapped iron and similar -things, lay in the foreground; and a broken bar, red -with rust, had fallen on the spot where the girl had -been standing when she brought bluebells out of the -wood.</p> - -<p>He did not leave his island. Rural and romantic -and sedentary as he may have seemed, he was not -the son of an old revolutionist for nothing. It was -not altogether in vain that his father had called him -Robert Owen or that his friends had sometimes -called him Robin Hood. Sometimes, indeed, his soul -sank within him with a mortal sickness that was -near to suicide, but more often he marched up and -down in a militant fashion, being delighted to see the -tall wild-flowers waving on the banks like flags -within a stone’s-throw of all he hated, and muttering, -“Throw out the banners on the outward wall.” He -had already, when the estate of Marley Court was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -broken up for building, taken some steps to establish -himself on the island, had built a sort of hut there, -in which it was possible to picnic for considerable -periods.</p> - -<p>One morning when dawn was still radiant behind -the dark factory and light lay in a satin sheen upon -the water, there crept out upon that satin something -like a thickening thread of a different colour and material. -It was a thin ribbon of some other liquid -that did not mingle with the water, but lay on top -of it wavering like a worm; and Owen Hood watched -it as a man watches a snake. It looked like a snake, -having opalescent colours not without intrinsic -beauty; but to him it was a very symbolic snake; like -the serpent that destroyed Eden. A few days afterwards -there were a score of snakes covering the surface; -little crawling rivers that moved on the river -but did not mix with it, being as alien as witch’s -oils. Later there came darker liquids with no pretensions -to beauty, black and brown flakes of grease -that floated heavily.</p> - -<p>It was highly characteristic of Hood that to the -last he was rather hazy about the nature and purpose -of the factory; and therefore about the ingredients -of the chemicals that were floating into the river; -beyond the fact that they were mostly of the oily sort -and floated on the water in flakes and lumps, and -that something resembling petrol seemed to predominate,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -used perhaps rather for power than raw material. -He had heard a rustic rumour that the -enterprise was devoted to hair-dye. It smelt rather -like a soap factory. So far as he ever understood -it, he gathered that it was devoted to what might -be considered as a golden mean between hair-dye -and soap, some kind of new and highly hygienic cosmetics. -There had been a yet more feverish fashion -in these things, since Professor Hake had written -his great book proving that cosmetics were of all -things the most hygienic. And Hood had seen many -of the meadows of his childhood now brightened and -adorned by large notices inscribed “Why Grow -Old?” with the portrait of a young woman grinning -in a regrettable manner. The appropriate name on -the notices was Bliss, and he gathered that it all -had something to do with the great factory.</p> - -<p>Resolved to know a little more than this about the -matter, he began to make inquiries and complaints, -and engaged in a correspondence which ended in an -actual interview with some of the principal persons -involved. The correspondence had gone on for a -long time before it came anywhere near to anything -so natural as that. Indeed, the correspondence for a -long time was entirely on his side. For the big businesses -are quite as unbusinesslike as the Government -departments; they are no better in efficiency and -much worse in manners. But he obtained his interview<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -at last, and it was with a sense of sour amusement -that he came face to face with four people -whom he wanted to meet.</p> - -<p>One was Sir Samuel Bliss, for he had not yet performed -those party services which led to his being -known to us all as Lord Normantowers. He was a -small, alert man like a ferret, with bristles of grey -beard and hair, and active or even agitated movements. -The second was his manager, Mr. Low, a -stout, dark man with a thick nose and thick rings, -who eyed strangers with a curious heavy suspicion -like a congested sense of injury. It is believed that -he expected to be persecuted. The third man was -something of a surprise, for he was no other than his -old friend Dr. Horace Hunter, as healthy and hearty -as ever, but even better dressed; as he now had a -great official appointment as some kind of medical -inspector of the sanitary conditions of the district. -But the fourth man was the greatest surprise of all. -For it appeared that their conference was honoured -by so great a figure in the scientific world as Professor -Hake himself, who had revolutionized the modern -mind with his new discoveries about the complexion -in relation to health. When Hood realized who he -was, a light of somewhat sinister understanding -dawned on his long face.</p> - -<p>On this occasion the Professor advanced an even -more interesting theory. He was a big, blond man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> -with blinking eyes and a bull neck; and doubtless -there was more in him than met the eye, as is the -way with great men. He spoke last, and his theory -was expounded with a certain air of finality. The -manager had already stated that it was quite impossible -for large quantities of petrol to have escaped, as -only a given amount was used in the factory. Sir -Samuel had explained, in what seemed an irascible -and even irrelevant manner, that he had presented -several parks to the public, and had the dormitories -of his work-people decorated in the simplest and -best taste, and nobody could accuse him of vandalism -or not caring for beauty and all that. Then it was -that Professor Hake explained the theory of the -Protective Screen. Even if it were possible, he said, -for some thin film of petrol to appear on the water, -as it would not mix with the water the latter would -actually be kept in a clearer condition. It would -act, as it were, as a Cap; as does the gelatinous Cap -upon certain preserved foods.</p> - -<p>“That is a very interesting view,” observed Hood; -“I suppose you will write another book about that?”</p> - -<p>“I think we are all the more privileged,” remarked -Bliss, “in hearing of the discovery in this personal -fashion, before our expert has laid it before the -public.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Hood, “your expert is very expert, -isn’t he—in writing books?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>Sir Samuel Bliss stiffened in all his bristles. “I -trust,” he said, “you are not implying any doubt that -our expert is an expert.”</p> - -<p>“I have no doubt of your expert,” answered Hood -gravely, “I do not doubt either that he is expert or -that he is yours.”</p> - -<p>“Really, gentlemen,” cried Bliss in a sort of radiance -of protest, “I think such an insinuation about a -man in Professor Hake’s position——”</p> - -<p>“Not at all, not at all,” said Hood soothingly, “I’m -sure it’s a most comfortable position.”</p> - -<p>The Professor blinked at him, but a light burned -in the eyeballs under the heavy eyelids.</p> - -<p>“If you come here talking like that—” he began, -when Hood cut off his speech by speaking across him -to somebody else, with a cheerful rudeness that was -like a kick in its contempt.</p> - -<p>“And what do you say, my dear doctor?” he observed, -addressing Hunter. “You used to be almost -as romantic as myself about the amenities of this -place. Do you remember how much you admired -the landlords for keeping the place quiet and select; -and how you said the old families preserved the -beauty of old England?”</p> - -<p>There was a silence, and then the young doctor -spoke.</p> - -<p>“Well, it doesn’t follow a fellow can’t believe in -progress. That’s what’s the matter with you, Hood; -you don’t believe in progress. We must move with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -the times; and somebody always has to suffer. Besides, -it doesn’t matter so much about river-water -nowadays. It doesn’t even matter so much about -the main water-supply. When the new Bill is -passed, people will be obliged to use the Bulton Filter -in any case.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” said Hood reflectively. “You first make -a mess of the water for money, and then make a -virtue of forcing people to clean it themselves.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said -Hunter angrily.</p> - -<p>“Well, I was thinking at the moment,” said Hood -in his rather cryptic way. “I was thinking about -Mr. Bulton. The man who owns the filters. I was -wondering whether he might join us. We seem such -a happy family party.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot see the use of prolonging this preposterous -conversation,” said Sir Samuel.</p> - -<p>“Don’t call the poor Professor’s theory preposterous,” -remonstrated Hood. “A little fanciful, -perhaps. And as for the doctor’s view, surely -there’s nothing preposterous in that. You don’t -think the chemicals will poison all the fish I catch, do -you, Doctor?”</p> - -<p>“No, of course not,” replied Hunter curtly.</p> - -<p>“They will adapt themselves by natural selection,” -said Hood dreamily. “They will develop organs -suitable to an oily environment—will learn to love -petrol.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>“Oh, I have no time for this nonsense,” said -Hunter, and was turning to go, when Hood stepped -in front of him and looked at him very steadily.</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t call natural selection nonsense,” he -said. “I know all about that, at any rate. I can’t -tell whether liquids tipped off the shore will fall into -the river, because I don’t understand hydraulics. I -don’t know whether your machinery makes a hell of -a noise every morning, for I’ve never studied acoustics. -I don’t know whether it stinks or not, because -I haven’t read your expert’s book on ‘The Nose.’ -But I know all about adaptation to environment. -I know that some of the lower organisms do really -change with their changing conditions. I know -there are creatures so low that they do survive by -surrendering to every succession of mud and slime; -and when things are slow they are slow, and when -things are fast they are fast, and when things are -filthy they are filthy. I thank you for convincing -me of that.”</p> - -<p>He did not wait for a reply, but walked out of -the room after bowing curtly to the rest; and that -was the end of the great conference on the question -of riparian rights and perhaps the end of Thames -Conservancy and of the old aristocratic England, -with its good and ill.</p> - -<p>The general public never heard very much about -it; at least until one catastrophic scene which was to -follow. There was some faint ripple of the question<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -some months later, when Dr. Horace Hunter was -standing for Parliament in that division. One or -two questions were asked about his duties in relation -to river pollution; but it was soon apparent that no -party particularly wished to force the issue against -the best opinions advanced on the other side. The -greatest living authority on hygiene, Professor Hake, -had actually written to <i>The Times</i> (in the interests -of science) to say that in such a hypothetical case as -that mentioned, a medical man could only do what -Dr. Hunter had apparently done. It so happened -that the chief captain of industry in that part of the -Thames Valley, Sir Samuel Bliss, had himself, after -gravely weighing the rival policies, decided to Vote -for Hunter. The great organizer’s own mind was -detached and philosophical in the matter; but it -seems that his manager, a Mr. Low, was of the -same politics and a more practical and pushful spirit; -warmly urging the claims of Hunter on his work-people; -pointing out the many practical advantages -they would gain by voting for that physician, and the -still more practical disadvantages they might suffer -by not doing so. Hence it followed that the blue -ribbons, which were the local badges of the Hunterians, -were not only to be found attached to the -iron railings and wooden posts of the factory, but to -various human figures, known as “hands,” which -moved to and fro in it.</p> - -<p>Hood took no interest in the election; but while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -it was proceeding he followed the matter a little -further in another form. He was a lawyer, a lazy, -but in some ways a learned one; for, his tastes being -studious, he had originally learned the trade he -had never used. More in defiance than in hope, he -once carried the matter into the Courts, pleading his -own cause on the basis of a law of Henry the Third -against frightening the fish of the King’s liege subjects -in the Thames Valley. The judge, in giving -judgment, complimented him on the ability and -plausibility of his contention, but ultimately rejected -it on grounds equally historic and remote. -His lordship argued that no test seemed to be provided -for ascertaining the degree of fear in the fish, -or whether it amounted to that bodily fear of which -the law took cognizance. But the learned judge -pointed out the precedent of a law of Richard the -Second against certain witches who had frightened -children; which had been interpreted by so great an -authority as Coke in the sense that the child “must -return and of his own will testify to his fear.” It -did not seem to be alleged that any one of the fish -in question had returned and laid any such testimony -before any proper authority; and he therefore gave -judgment for the defendants. And when the -learned judge happened to meet Lord Normantowers -(as he was by this time) out at dinner that -evening, he was gaily rallied and congratulated by -that new nobleman on the lucidity and finality of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -his judgment. Indeed, the learned judge had really -relished the logic both of his own and Hood’s contention; -but the conclusion was what he would have -come to in any case. For our judges are not -hampered by any hide-bound code; they are progressive, -like Dr. Hunter, and ally themselves on -principle with the progressive forces of the age, -especially those they are likely to meet out at dinner.</p> - -<p>But it was this abortive law case that led up to -something that altogether obliterated it in a blaze -of glory, so far as Mr. Owen Hood was concerned. -He had just left the courts, and turning down the -streets that led in the direction of the station, he -made his way thither in something of a brown study, -as was his wont. The streets were filled with faces; -it struck him for the first time that there were -thousands and thousands of people in the world. -There were more faces at the railway station, and -then, when he had glanced idly at four or five of -them, he saw one that was to him as incredible as -the face of the dead.</p> - -<p>She was coming casually out of the tea-room, -carrying a handbag, just like anybody else. That -mystical perversity of his mind, which had insisted -on sealing up the sacred memory like something -hardly to be sought in mere curiosity, had fixed it in -its original colours and setting, like something of -which no detail could be changed without the vision -dissolving. He would have conceived it almost impossible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -that she could appear in anything but white -or out of anything but a wood. And he found himself -turned topsy-turvy by an old and common incredulity -of men in his condition; being startled by -the coincidence that blue suited her as well as white; -and that in what he remembered of that woodland -there was something else; something to be said even -for teashops and railway stations.</p> - -<p>She stopped in front of him and her pale, fluttering -eyelids lifted from her blue-grey eyes.</p> - -<p>“Why,” she said, “you are the boy that jumped -in the river!”</p> - -<p>“I’m no longer a boy,” answered Hood, “but I’m -ready to jump in the river again.”</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t jump on the railway-line,” she said, -as he turned with a swiftness suggestive of something -of the kind.</p> - -<p>“To tell you the truth,” he said, “I was thinking -of jumping into your railway-train. Do you mind if -I jump into your railway-train?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m going to Birkstead,” she said rather -doubtfully.</p> - -<p>Mr. Owen Hood did not in the least care where -she was going, as he had resolved to go there; but -as a matter of fact, he remembered a wayside station -on that line that lay very near to what he had -in view; so he tumbled into the carriage if possible -with more alacrity; and landscapes shot by them as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> -they sat looking in a dazed and almost foolish fashion -at each other. At last the girl smiled with a sense -of the absurdity of the thing.</p> - -<p>“I heard about you from a friend of yours,” she -said; “he came to call on us soon after it happened; -at least that was when he first came. You know -Dr. Hunter, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Owen, a shadow coming over his -shining hour. “Do you—do you know him well?”</p> - -<p>“I know him pretty well now,” said Miss Elizabeth -Seymour.</p> - -<p>The shadow on his spirit blackened swiftly; he -suspected something quite suddenly and savagely. -Hunter, in Crane’s old phrase, was not a man who -let the grass grow under his feet. It was so like -him to have somehow used the incident as an introduction -to the Seymours. Things were always -stepping-stones for Hunter, and the little rock in the -river had been a stepping-stone to the country house. -But was the country house a stepping-stone to something -else? Suddenly Hood realized that all his -angers had been very abstract angers. He had -never hated a man before.</p> - -<p>At that moment the train stopped at the station of -Cowford.</p> - -<p>“I wish you’d get out here with me,” he said -abruptly, “only for a little—and it might be the last -time. I want you to do something.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>She looked at him with a curious expression and -said in a rather low voice, “What do you want me -to do?”</p> - -<p>“I want you to come and pick bluebells,” he said -harshly.</p> - -<p>She stepped out of the train, and they went up a -winding country road without a word.</p> - -<p>“I remember!” she said suddenly. “When you -get to the top of this hill you see the wood where -the bluebells were, and your little island beyond.”</p> - -<p>“Come on and see it,” said Owen.</p> - -<p>They stepped on the crest of the hill and stood. -Below them the black factory belched its livid smoke -into the air; and where the wood had been were -rows of little houses like boxes, built of dirty yellow -brick.</p> - -<p>Hood spoke. “And when you shall see the -abomination of desolation sitting in the Holy of -Holies—isn’t that when the world is supposed to -end? I wish the world would end now; with you -and me standing on a hill.”</p> - -<p>She was staring at the place with parted lips and -more than her ordinary pallor; he knew she understood -something monstrous and symbolic in the -scene; yet her first remark was jerky and trivial. -On the nearest of the yellow brick boxes were visible -the cheap colours of various advertisements; and -larger than the rest a blue poster proclaiming “Vote -for Hunter.” With a final touch of tragic pathos,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -Hood remembered that it was the last and most -sensational day of the election. But the girl had -already found her voice.</p> - -<p>“Is that Dr. Hunter?” she asked with commonplace -curiosity; “is he standing for Parliament?”</p> - -<p>A load that lay on Hood’s mind like a rock suddenly -rose like an eagle; and he felt as if the hill he -stood on were higher than Everest. By the insight -of his own insanity, he knew well enough that <i>she</i> -would have known well enough whether Hunter was -standing, if—if there had been anything like what -he supposed. The removal of the steadying weight -staggered him, and he had something quite indefensible.</p> - -<p>“I thought you would know. I thought you -and he were probably—well, the truth is I thought -you were engaged, though I really don’t know -why.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t imagine why,” said Elizabeth Seymour. -“I heard he was engaged to Lord Normantowers’s -daughter. They’ve got our old place now, you -know.”</p> - -<p>There was a silence and then Hood spoke suddenly -in a loud and cheerful voice.</p> - -<p>“Well, what I say is ‘Vote for Hunter,’” he said -heartily. “After all, why not vote for Hunter? -Good old Hunter! I hope he’ll be a Member of -Parliament. I hope he’ll be Prime Minister. I -hope he’ll be President of the World State that Wells<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> -talks about. By George, he deserves to be Emperor -of the Solar System.”</p> - -<p>“But why,” she protested, “why should he deserve -all that?”</p> - -<p>“For not being engaged to you, of course,” he -replied.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she said, and something of a secret shiver -in her voice went through him like a silver bell.</p> - -<p>Abruptly, all of a sudden, the rage of raillery -seemed to leave his voice and his face, so that his -Napoleonic profile looked earnest and eager and -much younger, like the profile of the young -Napoleon. His wide shoulders lost the slight stoop -that books had given them, and his rather wild red -hair fell away from his lifted head.</p> - -<p>“There is one thing I must tell you about him,” he -said, “and one thing you must hear about me. My -friends tell me I am a drifter and a dreamer; that -I let the grass grow under my feet; I must tell you -at least how and why I once let it grow. Three -days after that day by the river, I talked to Hunter; -he was attending me and he talked about it and you. -Of course he knew nothing about either. But he is -a practical man; a very practical man; he does not -dream or drift. From the way he talked I knew he -was considering even then how the accident could -be turned to account; to his account and perhaps to -mine too; for he is good-natured; yes, he is quite -good-natured. I think that if I had taken his hint<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -and formed a sort of social partnership, I might have -known you six years sooner, not as a memory, but—an -acquaintance. And I could not do it. Judge me -how you will, I could not bring myself to do it. -That is what is meant by being born with a bee in -the bonnet, with an impediment in the speech, with a -stumbling-block in the path, with a sulky scruple in -the soul. I could not bear to approach you by that -door, with that gross and grinning flunkey holding it -open. I could not bear that suffocatingly substantial -snob to bulk so big in my story or know so -much of my secret. A revulsion I could never utter -made me feel that the vision should remain my own -even by remaining unfulfilled; but it should not be -vulgarized. That is what is meant by being a failure -in life. And when my best friend made a -prophecy about me, and said there was something I -should never do, I thought he was right.”</p> - -<p>“Why, what do you mean?” she asked rather -faintly, “what was it you would never do?”</p> - -<p>“Never mind that now,” he said, with the shadow -of a returning smile. “Rather strange things are -stirring in me just now, and who knows but I may -attempt something yet? But before all else, I must -make clear for once what I am and for what I lived. -There are men like me in the world; I am far from -thinking they are the best or the most valuable; but -they exist, to confound all the clever people and the -realists and the new novelists. There has been and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span> -there is only one thing for me; something that in the -normal sense I never even knew. I walked about -the world blind, with my eyes turned inwards, looking -at you. For days after a night when I had -dreamed of you, I was broken; like a man who had -seen a ghost. I read over and over the great and -grave lines of the old poets, because they alone were -worthy of you. And when I saw you again by -chance, I thought the world had already ended; and -it was that return and tryst beyond the grave that -is too good to be true.”</p> - -<p>“I do not think,” she answered in a low voice, -“that the belief is too good to be true.”</p> - -<p>As he looked at her a thrill went through him -like a message too swift to be understood; and at -the back of his mind something awoke that repeated -again and again like a song the same words: “too -good to be true.” There was always something -pathetic, even in her days of pride, about the short-sighted -look of her half-closed eyes; but it was for -other reasons that they were now blinking in the -strong white sunlight, almost as if they were blind. -They were blind and bright with tears: she mastered -her voice and it was steady.</p> - -<p>“You talk about failures,” she said. “I suppose -most people would call me a failure and all my -people failures now; except those who would say -we never failed, because we never had to try. Anyhow, -we’re all poor enough now; I don’t know<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -whether you know that I’m teaching music. I dare -say we deserved to go. I dare say we were useless. -Some of us tried to be harmless. But—but now I -<i>must</i> say something, about some of us who tried -rather hard to be harmless—in that way. The new -people will tell you those ideals were Victorian and -Tennysonian, and all the rest of it—well, it doesn’t -matter what they say. They know quite as little -about us as we about them. But to you, when you -talk like that ... what can I do, but tell you that if -we were stiff, if we were cold, if we were careful and -conservative, it was because deep down in our souls -some of us <i>did</i> believe that there might be loyalty -and love like that, for which a woman might well -wait even to the end of the world. What is it to -these people if we choose not to be drugged or distracted -with anything less worthy? But it would -be hard indeed if when I find it <i>does</i> exist after all -... hard on you, harder on me, if when I had really -found it at last....” The catch in her voice came -again and silence caught and held her.</p> - -<p>He took one stride forward as into the heart of -a whirlwind; and they met on the top of that windy -hill as if they had come from the ends of the earth.</p> - -<p>“This is an epic,” he said, “which is rather an -action than a word. I have lived with words too -long.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“I mean you have turned me into a man of action,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -he replied. “So long as you were in the past, -nothing was better than the past. So long as you -were only a dream, nothing was better than dreaming. -But now I am going to do something that no -man has ever done before.”</p> - -<p>He turned towards the valley and flung out his -hand with a gesture, almost as if the hand had held -a sword.</p> - -<p>“I am going to break the Prophecy,” he cried in -a loud voice. “I am going to defy the omens of -my doom and make fun of my evil star. Those who -called me a failure shall own I have succeeded where -all humanity has failed. The real hero is not he who -is bold enough to fulfil the predictions, but he who -is bold enough to falsify them. And you shall see -one falsified to-night.”</p> - -<p>“What in the world are you going to do?” she -asked.</p> - -<p>He laughed suddenly. “The first thing to do,” -he cried, swinging round with a new air of resolution -and even cheerfulness, “the very first thing to -do is to Vote For Hunter. Or, at any rate, help to -get him into Parliament.”</p> - -<p>“But why in the world,” she asked wondering, -“should you want so much to get Dr. Hunter into -Parliament?”</p> - -<p>“Well, one must do something,” he said with an -appearance of easy good sense, “to celebrate the -occasion. We must do something; and after all he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -must go somewhere, poor devil. You will say, why -not throw him into the river? It would relieve the -feelings and make a splash. But I’m going to make -something much bigger than a splash. Besides, I -don’t want him in my nice river. I’d much rather -pick him up and throw him all the way to Westminster. -Much more sensible and suitable. Obviously -there ought to be a brass band and a torchlight -procession somewhere to-night; and why -shouldn’t he have a bit of the fun?”</p> - -<p>He stopped suddenly as if surprised at his own -words: for indeed his own phrase had fallen, for him, -with the significance of a falling star.</p> - -<p>“Of course!” he muttered. “A torchlight procession! -I’ve been feeling that what I wanted was -trumpets and what I really want is torches. Yes, I -believe it could be done! Yes, the hour is come! -By stars and blazes, I will give him a torchlight -procession!”</p> - -<p>He had been almost dancing with excitement on -the top of the ridge; now he suddenly went bounding -down the slope beyond, calling to the girl to -follow, as carelessly as if they had been two children -playing at hide and seek. Strangely enough, perhaps, -she did follow; more strangely still when we -consider the extravagant scenes through which she -allowed herself to be led. They were scenes more -insanely incongruous with all her sensitive and even -secretive dignity than if she had been changing hats<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -with a costermonger on a Bank Holiday. For there -the world would only be loud with vulgarity, and -here it was also loud with lies. She could never -have described that Saturnalia of a political election; -but she did dimly feel the double impression of a -harlequinade at the end of a pantomime and of -Hood’s phrase about the end of the world. It was -as if a Bank Holiday could also be a Day of Judgment. -But as the farce could no longer offend her, -so the tragedy could no longer terrify. She went -through it all with a wan smile, which perhaps nobody -in the world would have known her well enough -to interpret. It was not in the normal sense excitement; -yet it was something much more positive than -patience. In a sense perhaps, more than ever before -in her lonely life, she was walled up in her -ivory tower; but it was all alight within, as if it -were lit with candles or lined with gold.</p> - -<p>Hood’s impetuous movements brought them to the -bank of the river and the outer offices of the factory, -all of which were covered with the coloured posters -of the candidature, and one of which was obviously -fitted up as a busy and bustling committee-room. -Hood actually met Mr. Low coming out of it, buttoned -up in a fur coat and bursting with speechless -efficiency. But Mr. Low’s beady black eyes -glistened with an astonishment bordering on suspicion -when Hood in the most hearty fashion offered -his sympathy and co-operation. That strange subconscious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -fear, that underlay all the wealthy manager’s -success and security in this country, always -came to the surface at the sight of Owen Hood’s -long ironical face. Just at that moment, however, -one of the local agents rushed at him in a distracted -fashion, with telegrams in his hand. They were -short of canvassers; they were short of cars; they -were short of speakers; the crowd at Little Puddleton -had been waiting half an hour; Dr. Hunter could -not get round to them till ten past nine, and so on. -The agent in his agony would probably have hailed -a Margate nigger and entrusted him with the cause -of the great National Party, without any really -philosophical inquiry into the nigger’s theory of -citizenship. For all such over-practical push and -bustle in our time is always utterly unpractical at -the last minute and in the long run. On that night -Robert Owen Hood would have been encouraged to -go anywhere and say anything; and he did. It might -be interesting to imagine what the lady thought -about it; but it is possible that she did not think -about it. She had a radiantly abstracted sense of -passing through a number of ugly rooms and sheds -with flaring gas and stacks of leaflets behind which -little irritable men ran about like rabbits. The walls -were covered with large allegorical pictures printed -in line or in a few bright colours, representing Dr. -Hunter as clad in armour, as slaying dragons, as rescuing -ladies rather like classical goddesses, and so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -on. Lest it should be too literally understood that -Dr. Hunter was in the habit of killing dragons in -his daily round, as a form of field-sport, the dragon -was inscribed with its name in large letters. Apparently -its name was “National Extravagance.” -Lest there should be any doubt about the alternative -which Dr. Hunter had discovered as a corrective to -extravagance, the sword which he was thrusting -through the dragon’s body was inscribed with the -word “Economy.” Elizabeth Seymour, through -whose happy but bewildered mind these pictures -passed, could not but reflect vaguely that she herself -had lately but to practise a good deal of economy -and resist a good many temptations to extravagance; -but it would never have occurred to her unaided imagination -to conceive the action as that of plunging -a sword into a scaly monster of immense size. In -the central committee-room they actually came face -to face for a moment with the candidate, who came -in very hot and breathless with a silk hat on the -back of his head; where he had possibly forgotten it, -for he certainly did not remove it. She was a little -ashamed of being sensitive about such trifles; but -she came to the conclusion that she would not like -to have a husband standing for Parliament.</p> - -<p>“We’ve rounded up all those people down Bleak -Row,” said Dr. Hunter. “No good going down The -Hole and those filthy places. No votes there. -Streets ought to be abolished and the people too.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>“Well, we’ve had a very good meeting in the -Masonic Hall,” said the agent cheerfully. “Lord -Normantowers spoke, and really he got through all -right. Told some stories, you know; and they stood -it capitally.”</p> - -<p>“And now,” said Owen Hood, slapping his hands -together in an almost convivial manner, “what about -this torchlight procession?”</p> - -<p>“This what procession?” asked the agent.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to tell me,” said Hood sternly, “that -arrangements are not complete for the torchlight procession -of Dr. Hunter? That you are going to let -this night of triumph pass without kindling a hundred -flames to light the path of the conqueror? Do you -realize that the hearts of a whole people have spontaneously -stirred and chosen him? That the suffering -poor murmured in their sleep ‘Vote For Hunter’ -long before the Caucus came by a providential coincidence -to the same conclusion? Would not the -people in The Hole set fire to their last poor sticks -of furniture to do him honour? Why, from this -chair alone——”</p> - -<p>He caught up the chair on which Hunter had been -sitting and began to break it enthusiastically. In -this he was hastily checked; but he actually succeeded -in carrying the company with him in his proposal, -thus urged at the eleventh hour.</p> - -<p>By nightfall he had actually organized his torchlight -procession, escorting the triumphant Hunter,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -covered with blue ribbons, to the riverside, rather -as if the worthy doctor were to be baptized like a -convert or drowned like a witch. For that matter, -Hood might possibly intend to burn the witch; for -he brandished a blazing torch he carried so as to -make a sort of halo round Hunter’s astonished countenance. -Then, springing on the scrap-heap by the -brink of the river, he addressed the crowd for the -last time.</p> - -<p>“Fellow-citizens, we meet upon the shore of the -Thames, the Thames which is to Englishmen all that -the Tiber ever was to Romans. We meet in a valley -which has been almost as much the haunt of English -poets as of English birds. Never was there an art -so native to our island as our old national tradition -of landscape-painting in water-colour; never was that -water-colour so luminous or so delicate as when dedicated -to these holy waters. It was in such a scene -that one of the most exquisite of our elder poets repeated -as a burden to his meditations the single line, -‘Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song.’</p> - -<p>“Rumours have been heard of some intention to -trouble these waters; but we have been amply reassured. -Names that now stand as high as those of -our national poets and painters are a warrant that -the stream is still as clear and pure and beneficent -as of old. We all know the beautiful work that -Mr. Bulton has done in the matter of filters. Dr.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -Hunter supports Mr. Bulton. I mean Mr. Bulton -supports Dr. Hunter. I may also mention no less -a man than Mr. Low. Sweet Thames, run softly -till I end my song.</p> - -<p>“But, then, for that matter, we all support Dr. -Hunter. I myself have always found him quite -supportable; I should say quite satisfactory. He is -truly a progressive, and nothing gives me greater -pleasure than to watch him progress. As somebody -said, I lie awake at night; and in the silence of the -whole universe, I seem to hear him climbing, climbing, -climbing. All the numerous patients among -whom he has laboured so successfully in this locality -will join in a heartfelt expression of joy if he passes -to the higher world of Westminster. I trust I shall -not be misunderstood. Sweet Thames, run softly -till I end my song.</p> - -<p>“My only purpose to-night is to express that unanimity. -There may have been times when I differed -from Dr. Hunter; but I am glad to say that -all that is passed, and I have now nothing but the -most friendly feelings towards him, for reasons which -I will not mention, though I have plenty to say. In -token of this reconciliation I here solemnly cast from -me this torch. As that firebrand is quenched in the -cool crystal waters of that sacred stream, so shall all -such feuds perish in the healing pool of universal -peace.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>Before anybody knew what he was doing, he had -whirled his flambeau in a flaming wheel round his -head and sent it flying like a meteor out into the dim -eddies of the river.</p> - -<p>The next moment a short, sharp cry was uttered, -and every face in that crowd was staring at the river. -All the faces were visibly staring, for they were all -lit up as by a ghastly firelight by a wide wan unnatural -flame that leapt up from the very surface of -the stream; a flame that the crowd watched as it -might have watched a comet.</p> - -<p>“There,” cried Owen Hood, turning suddenly on -the girl and seizing her arm, as if demanding congratulations. -“So much for old Crane’s prophecy!”</p> - -<p>“Who in the world is Old Crane?” she asked, “and -what did he prophesy? Is he something like Old -Moore?”</p> - -<p>“Only an old friend,” said Hood hastily, “only an -old friend of mine. It’s what he said that’s so important. -He didn’t like my moping about with -books and a fishing-rod, and he said, standing on that -very island, ‘You may know a lot; but I don’t think -you’ll ever set the Thames on fire. I’ll eat my hat -if you do.’”</p> - -<p>But the story of how old Crane ate his hat is one -upon which some readers at least can now look back -as on labour and suffering bravely endured. And -if it be possible for any of them to desire to know<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -any more either about Mr. Crane or Mr. Hood, then -must they gird themselves for the ordeal of reading -the story of The Unobtrusive Traffic of Captain -Pierce, and their trials are for a time deferred.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">III<br> - -THE UNOBTRUSIVE TRAFFIC OF<br> -CAPTAIN PIERCE</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> - -<p class="ph1">III<br> - -THE UNOBTRUSIVE TRAFFIC OF<br> -CAPTAIN PIERCE</p> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THOSE acquainted with Colonel Crane and -Mr. Owen Hood, the lawyer, may or may -not be concerned to know that they partook -of an early lunch of eggs and bacon and beer at the -inn called the Blue Boar, which stands at the turn -of a steep road scaling a wooded ridge in the West -Country. Those unacquainted with them may be -content to know that the Colonel was a sunburnt, -neatly-dressed gentleman, who looked taciturn and -was; while the lawyer was a more rusty red-haired -gentleman with a long Napoleonic face, who looked -taciturn and was rather talkative. Crane was fond -of good cooking; and the cooking in that secluded -inn was better than that of a Soho restaurant and immeasurably -better than that of a fashionable restaurant. -Hood was fond of the legends and less-known -aspects of the English countryside; and that -valley had a quality of repose with a stir of refreshment, -as if the west wind had been snared in it and -tamed into a summer air. Both had a healthy admiration -for beauty, in ladies as well as landscapes; -although (or more probably because) both were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -quite romantically attached to the wives they had -married under rather romantic circumstances, which -are related elsewhere for such as can wrestle with so -steep a narrative. And the girl who waited on -them, the daughter of the innkeeper, was herself a -very agreeable thing to look at; she was of a slim -and quiet sort with a head that moved like a brown -bird, brightly and as it were unexpectedly. Her -manners were full of unconscious dignity, for her -father, old John Hardy, was the type of old innkeeper -who had the status, if not of a gentleman, at -least of a yeoman. He was not without education -and ability; a grizzled man with a keen, stubborn -face that might have belonged to Cobbett, whose -<i>Register</i> he still read on winters’ nights. Hardy was -well known to Hood, who had the same sort of -antiquarian taste in revolutions.</p> - -<p>There was little sound in the valley or the brilliant -void of sky; the notes of birds fell only intermittently; -a faint sound of tapping came from the hills -opposite where the wooded slope was broken here -and there by the bare face of a quarry, and a distant -aeroplane passed and re-passed, leaving a trail -of faint thunder. The two men at lunch took no -more notice of it than if it had been a buzzing fly; -but an attentive study of the girl might have suggested -that she was at least conscious of the fly. -Occasionally she looked at it, when no one was looking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -at her; for the rest, she had rather a marked appearance -of not looking at it.</p> - -<p>“Good bacon you get here,” remarked Colonel -Crane.</p> - -<p>“The best in England, and in the matter of breakfast -England is the Earthly Paradise,” replied Hood -readily. “I can’t think why we should descend to -boast of the British Empire when we have bacon and -eggs to boast of. They ought to be quartered on -the Royal Arms: three pigs passant and three -poached eggs on a chevron. It was bacon and eggs -that gave all that morning glory to the great English -poets; it must have been a man who had a breakfast -like this who could rise with that giant gesture: -‘Night’s candles are burnt out; and jocund -day——’”</p> - -<p>“Bacon did write Shakespeare, in fact,” said the -Colonel.</p> - -<p>“This sort of bacon did,” answered the other -laughing; then, noticing the girl within earshot, he -added: “We are saying how good your bacon is, -Miss Hardy.”</p> - -<p>“It is supposed to be very good,” she said with -legitimate pride, “but I am afraid you won’t get -much more of it. People aren’t going to be allowed -to keep pigs much longer.”</p> - -<p>“Not allowed to keep pigs!” ejaculated the Colonel -in astonishment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>“By the old regulations they had to be away from -the house, and we’ve got ground enough for that, -though most of the cottagers hadn’t. But now they -say the law is evaded, and the county council are -going to stop pig-keeping altogether.”</p> - -<p>“Silly swine,” snorted the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“The epithet is ill-chosen,” replied Hood. “Men -are lower than swine when they do not appreciate -swine. But really I don’t know what the world’s -coming to. What will the next generation be like -without proper pork? And, talking about the next -generation, what has become of your young friend -Pierce? He said he was coming down, but he can’t -have come by that train.”</p> - -<p>“I think Captain Pierce is up there, sir,” said -Joan Hardy in a correct voice, as she unobtrusively -withdrew.</p> - -<p>Her tone might have indicated that the gentleman -was upstairs, but her momentary glance had been -towards the blue emptiness of the sky. Long after -she was gone, Owen Hood remained staring up into -it, until he saw the aeroplane darting and wheeling -like a swallow.</p> - -<p>“Is that Hilary Pierce up there?” he inquired, -“looping the loop and playing the lunatic generally. -What the devil is he doing?”</p> - -<p>“Showing off,” said the Colonel shortly, and -drained his pewter mug.</p> - -<p>“But why should he show off to us?” asked Hood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>“He jolly well wouldn’t,” replied the Colonel. -“Showing off to the girl, of course.” Then after a -pause he added: “A very nice girl.”</p> - -<p>“A very good girl,” said Owen Hood gravely. -“If there’s anything going on, you may be sure it’s -all straight and serious.”</p> - -<p>The Colonel blinked a little. “Well, times -change,” he said. “I suppose I’m old-fashioned myself; -but speaking as an old Tory, I must confess he -might do worse.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Hood, “and speaking as an old -Radical, I should say he could hardly do better.”</p> - -<p>While they were speaking the erratic aviator had -eventually swept earthwards towards a flat field at -the foot of the slope, and was now coming towards -them. Hilary Pierce had rather the look of a poet -than a professional aviator; and though he had distinguished -himself in the war, he was very probably -one of those whose natural dream was rather of conquering -the air than conquering the enemy. His -yellow hair was longer and more untidy than when -he was in the army; and there was a touch of something -irresponsible in his roving blue eye. He had a -vein of pugnacity in him, however, as was soon apparent. -He had paused to speak to Joan Hardy by -the rather tumble-down pig-sty in the corner, and -when he came towards the breakfast-table he seemed -transfigured as with flame.</p> - -<p>“What’s all this infernal insane foolery?” he demanded.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -“Who has the damned impudence to tell -the Hardys they mustn’t keep pigs? Look here, -the time is come when we must burst up all this -sort of thing. I’m going to do something desperate.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve been doing desperate things enough for -this morning,” said Hood. “I advise you to take -a little desperate luncheon. Do sit down, there’s a -good fellow, and don’t stamp about like that.”</p> - -<p>“No, but look here——”</p> - -<p>Pierce was interrupted by Joan Hardy, who appeared -quietly at his elbow and said demurely to -the company: “There’s a gentleman here who asks -if he may be pardoned for speaking to you.”</p> - -<p>The gentleman in question stood some little way -behind in a posture that was polite but so stiff and -motionless as almost to affect the nerves. He was -clad in so complete and correct a version of English -light holiday attire that they felt quite certain he -was a foreigner. But their imaginations ranged the -Continent in vain in the attempt to imagine what -sort of foreigner. By the immobility of his almost -moonlike face, with its faintly bilious tinge, he might -almost have been a Chinaman. But when he spoke, -they could instantly locate the alien accent.</p> - -<p>“Very much distressed to butt in, gentlemen,” he -said, “but this young lady allows you are first-class -academic authorities on the sights of this locality. -I’ve been mouching around trying to hit the trail of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -an antiquity or two, but I don’t seem to know the -way to pick it up. If you’d be so kind as to put me -wise about the principal architectural styles and -historic items of this section, I’d be under a great -obligation.”</p> - -<p>As they were a little slow in recovering from their -first surprise, he added patiently:</p> - -<p>“My name is Enoch B. Oates, and I’m pretty well -known in Michigan, but I’ve bought a little place -near here; I’ve looked about this little planet and -I’ve come to think the safest and brightest place -for a man with a few dollars is the place of a squire -in your fine old feudal landscape. So the sooner -I’m introduced to the more mellow mediæval buildings -the better.”</p> - -<p>In Hilary Pierce the astonishment had given place -to an ardour bordering on ecstasy.</p> - -<p>“Mediæval buildings! Architectural styles!” he -cried enthusiastically. “You’ve come to the right -shop, Mr. Oates. I’ll show you an ancient building, -a sacred building, in an architectural style of -such sublime antiquity that you’ll want to cart it -all away to Michigan, as they tried to do with Glastonbury -Abbey. You shall be privileged to see one -historic institution before you die or before all history -is forgotten.”</p> - -<p>He was walking towards the corner of the little -kitchen-garden attached to the inn, waving his arms -with wild gestures of encouragement; and the American<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -was following him with the same stiff politeness, -looking weirdly like an automaton.</p> - -<p>“Look on our architectural style before it perishes,” -cried Pierce dramatically, pointing to the pig-sty, -which looked a rather ramshackle affair of leaning -and broken boards hung loosely together, though -in practice it was practical enough. “This, the most -unmistakably mellow of all mediæval buildings, may -soon be only a memory. But when this edifice falls -England will fall, and the world will shake with the -shock of doom.”</p> - -<p>The American had what he himself might have -described as a poker face; it was impossible to discover -whether his utterances indicated the extreme of -innocence or of irony.</p> - -<p>“And would you say,” he asked, “that this monument -exemplifies the mediæval or Gothic architectural -school?”</p> - -<p>“I should hardly call it strictly Perpendicular,” answered -Pierce, “but there is no doubt that it is -Early English.”</p> - -<p>“You would say it is antique, anyhow?” observed -Mr. Oates.</p> - -<p>“I have every reason to believe,” affirmed Pierce -solemnly, “that Gurth the Swineherd made use of -this identical building. I have no doubt it is in fact -far older. The best authorities believe that the -Prodigal Son stayed here for some time, and the pigs—those -noble and much maligned animals—gave<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -him such excellent advice that he returned to his -family. And now, Mr. Oates, they say that all that -magnificent heritage is to be swept away. But it -shall not be. We shall not so easily submit to all -the vandals and vulgar tyrants who would thus tear -down our temples and our holy places. The pig-sty -shall rise again in a magnificent resurrection—larger -pig-stys, loftier pig-stys, shall yet cover the -land; the towers and domes and spires of statelier -and more ideal pig-stys, in the most striking architectural -styles, shall again declare the victory of the -holy hog over his unholy oppressors.”</p> - -<p>“And meanwhile,” said Colonel Crane drily, “I -think Mr. Oates had much better begin with the -church down by the river. Very fine Norman -foundations and traces of the Roman brick. The -vicar understands his church, too, and would give -Mr. Oates rather more reliable information than you -do.”</p> - -<p>A little while later, when Mr. Oates had passed -on his way, the Colonel curtly reproved his young -friend.</p> - -<p>“Bad form,” he said, “making fun of a foreigner -asking for information.”</p> - -<p>But Pierce turned on him with the same heat on -his face.</p> - -<p>“But I wasn’t making fun. I was quite serious.”</p> - -<p>They stared at him steadily, and he laughed -slightly but went on with undiminished fire.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>“Symbolical perhaps but serious,” he said. “I -may seem to have been talking a bit wildly, but let -me tell you the time has come to be wild. We’ve all -been a lot too tame. I do mean, as much as I ever -meant anything, to fight for the resurrection and the -return of the pig; and he shall yet return as a wild -boar that will rend the hunters.”</p> - -<p>He looked up and his eye caught the blue heraldic -shape on the sign-board of the inn.</p> - -<p>“And there is our wooden ensign!” he cried, pointing -in the same dramatic fashion. “We will go into -battle under the banner of the Blue Boar.”</p> - -<p>“Loud and prolonged cheers,” said Crane politely, -“and now come away and don’t spoil the peroration. -Owen wants to potter about the local antiquities, -like Mr. Oates. I’m more interested in novelties. -Want to look at that machine of yours.”</p> - -<p>They began to descend the zig-zag pebbled path -fenced and embanked with hedges and flower-beds -like a garden grown on a staircase, and at every corner -Hood had to remonstrate with the loitering -youth.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be for ever gazing back on the paradise of -pigs,” he said, “or you’ll be turned to a pillar of salt, -or possibly of mustard as more appropriate to such -meat. They won’t run away yet. There are other -creatures formed by the Creator for the contemplation -of man; there are other things made by man -after the pattern of the creatures, from the great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -White Horses of Wessex to that great white bird on -which you yourself flew among the birds. Fine subject -for a poem of the first and last things.”</p> - -<p>“Bird that lays rather dreadful eggs,” said Crane. -“In the next war—— Why, where the deuce has he -gone?”</p> - -<p>“Pigs, pigs,” said Hood sadly. “The overpowering -charm which pigs exercise upon us at a certain -time of life; when we hear their trotters in our -dreams and their little curly tails twine about us like -the tendrils of the vine——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, bosh,” said the Colonel.</p> - -<p>For indeed Mr. Hilary Pierce had vanished in a -somewhat startling manner, ducking under the corner -of a hedge and darting up a steeper path, over a -gate and across the corner of a hayfield, where a -final bound through bursting bushes brought him -on top of a low wall looking down at the pig-sty and -Miss Joan Hardy, who was calmly walking away -from it. He sprang down on to the path; the morning -sun picked out everything in clear colours like -a child’s toy-book; and standing with his hands -spread out and his wisps of yellow hair brushed in -all directions by the bushes, he recalled an undignified -memory of Shock-Headed Peter.</p> - -<p>“I felt I must speak to you before I went,” he -said. “I’m going away, not exactly on active service, -but on business—on very active business. I feel -like the fellows did when they went to the war ...<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -and what they wanted to do first.... I am aware -that a proposal over a pig-sty is not so symbolical -to some as to me, but really and truly ... I don’t -know whether I mentioned it, but you may be aware -that I worship you.”</p> - -<p>Joan Hardy was quite aware of it; but the conventionalities -in her case were like concentric castle-walls; -the world-old conventions of the countryside. -There was in them the stiff beauty of old country -dances and the slow and delicate needlework of a -peasantry. Of all the ladies whose figures must be -faintly traced in the tapestry of these frivolous tales -of chivalry, the most reticent and dignified was the -one who was not in the worldly sense a lady at -all.</p> - -<p>She stood looking at him in silence, and he at her; -as the lift of her head had some general suggestion -of a bird, the line of her profile had a delicate suggestion -of a falcon, and her face was of the fine tint -that has no name, unless we could talk of a bright -brown.</p> - -<p>“Really, you seem in a terrible hurry,” she said. -“I don’t want to be talked to in a rush like this.”</p> - -<p>“I apologize,” he said. “I can’t help being in a -rush, but I didn’t want you to be in a rush. I only -wanted you to know. I haven’t done anything to -deserve you, but I am going to try. I’m going off -to work; I feel sure you believe in quiet steady work -for a young man.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>“Are you going into the bank?” she asked innocently. -“You said your uncle was in a bank.”</p> - -<p>“I hope all my conversation was not on that level,” -he replied. And indeed he would have been surprised -if he had known how exactly she remembered -all such dull details he had ever mentioned about -himself, and how little she knew in comparison about -his theories and fancies, which he thought so much -more important.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said with engaging frankness, “it would -be an exaggeration to say I am going into a bank; -though of course there are banks and banks. Why, -I know a bank whereon the wild thyme—I beg your -pardon, I mean I know a lot of more rural and romantic -occupations that are really quite as safe as -the bank. The truth is, I think of going into the -bacon trade. I think I see an opening for a brisk -young man in the ham and pork business. When -you see me next I shall be travelling in pork; an -impenetrable disguise.”</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t come here, then,” she answered. -“It won’t be allowed here by that time. The neighbours -would——”</p> - -<p>“Fear not,” he said, “I should be a commercial -traveller. Oh, such a very commercial traveller. -And as for not coming here, the thing seems quite -unthinkable. You must at least let me write to you -every hour or so. You must let me send you a few -presents every morning.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>“I’m sure my father wouldn’t like you to send me -presents,” she said gravely.</p> - -<p>“Ask your father to wait,” said Pierce earnestly. -“Ask him to wait till he’s seen the presents. You -see, mine will be rather curious presents. I don’t -think he’ll disapprove of them. I think he’ll approve -of them. I think he’ll congratulate me on my -simple tastes and sound business principles. The -truth is, dear Joan, I’ve committed myself to a rather -important enterprise. You needn’t be frightened; -I promise I won’t trouble you again till it succeeds. -I will be content that you know it is for you I do it; -and shall continue to do it, if I defy the world.” -He sprang up on the wall again and stood there staring -down at her almost indignantly.</p> - -<p>“That anybody should forbid <i>you</i> to keep pigs,” -he cried. “That anybody should forbid <i>you</i> to do -anything. That anybody should dispute <i>your</i> right -to keep pet crocodiles if you like! That is the unpardonable -sin; that is the supreme blasphemy and -crime against the nature of things, which shall not go -unavenged. You shall have pigs, I say, if the skies -fall and the whole world is whelmed in war.”</p> - -<p>He disappeared like a flash behind the high bank -and the wall, and Joan went back in silence to the -inn.</p> - -<p>The first incident of the war did not seem superficially -encouraging, though the hero of it seemed by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -no means discouraged by it. As reported in the police -news of various papers, Hilary Patrick Pierce, -formerly of the Flying Corps, was arrested for driving -pigs into the county of Bluntshire, in contravention -of the regulations made for the public health. -He seemed to have had almost as much trouble with -the pigs as with the police; but he made a witty and -eloquent speech on being arrested, to which the police -and the pigs appeared to be equally unresponsive. -The incident was considered trivial and his punishment -was trifling; but the occasion was valued by -some of the authorities as giving an opportunity for -the final elucidation and establishment of the new -rule.</p> - -<p>For this purpose it was fortunate that the principal -magistrate of the bench was no less a person than -the celebrated hygienist, Sir Horace Hunter, O.B.E., -M.D., who had begun life, as some may remember, -as a successful suburban doctor and had likewise distinguished -himself as an officer of health in the -Thames Valley. To him indeed had been largely -due the logical extension of the existing precautions -against infection from the pig; though he was fully -supported by his fellow magistrates, one being Mr. -Rosenbaum Low, millionaire and formerly manager -of Bliss and Co., and the other the young Socialist, -Mr. Amyas Minns, famous for his exposition of Shaw -on the Simple Life, who sat on the bench as a Labour<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -alderman. All concurred in the argument of Sir -Horace, that just as all the difficulties and doubtful -cases raised by the practice of moderate drinking -had been simplified by the solution of Prohibition, -so the various quarrels and evasions about swine-fever -were best met by a straightforward and simple -regulation against swine. In the very improper remarks -which he offered after the trial, the prisoner -appears to have said that as his three judges were a -Jew, a vegetarian and a quack doctor on the make, -he was not surprised that they did not appreciate -pork.</p> - -<p>The next luncheon at which the three friends -met was in a sufficiently different setting; for the -Colonel had invited the other two to his club in -London. It would have been almost impossible to -have been that sort of Colonel without having that -sort of club. But as a matter of fact, he very seldom -went there. On this occasion it was Owen Hood -who arrived first and was by instructions escorted -by a waiter to a table in a bow window overlooking -the Green Park. Knowing Crane’s military punctuality, -Hood fancied that he might have mistaken -the time; and while looking for the note of invitation -in his pocket-book, he paused for a moment -upon a newspaper cutting that he had put aside as -a curiosity some days before. It was a paragraph -headed “Old Ladies as Mad Motorists,” and ran as -follows:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>“An unprecedented number of cases of motorists -exceeding the speed limit have lately occurred on the -Bath Road and other western highways. The extraordinary -feature of the case is that in so large a -number of cases the offenders appeared to be old -ladies of great wealth and respectability who professed -to be merely taking their pugs and other pet -animals for an airing. They professed that the -health of the animal required much more rapid -transit through the air than is the case with human -beings.”</p> -</div> - -<p>He was gazing at this extract with as much perplexity -as on his first perusal, when the Colonel -entered with a newspaper in his hand.</p> - -<p>“I say,” he said, “I think it is getting rather -ridiculous. I’m not a revolutionist like you; quite -the reverse. But all these rules and regulations are -getting beyond all rational discipline. A little while -ago they started forbidding all travelling menageries; -not, mind you, stipulating for proper conditions for -the animals, but forbidding them altogether for -some nonsense about the safety of the public. There -was a travelling circus stopped near Acton and another -on the road to Reading. Crowds of village -boys must never see a lion in their lives, because once -in fifty years a lion has escaped and been caught -again. But that’s nothing to what has happened -since. Now, if you please, there is such mortal fear<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -of infection that we are to leave the sick to suffer, -just as if we were savages. You know those new -hospital trains that were started to take patients from -the hospitals down to the health resorts. Well, -they’re not to run after all, it seems, lest by merely -taking an invalid of any sort through the open -country we should poison the four winds of heaven. -If this nonsense goes on, I shall go as mad as Hilary -himself.”</p> - -<p>Hilary Pierce had arrived during this conversation -and sat listening to it with a rather curious -smile. Somehow the more Hood looked at that smile -the more it puzzled him; it puzzled him as much as -the newspaper cutting in his hand. He caught -himself looking from one to the other, and Pierce -smiled in a still more irritating manner.</p> - -<p>“You don’t look so fierce and fanatical as when -we last met, my young friend,” observed Owen Hood. -“Have you got tired of pigs and police courts? -These coercion acts the Colonel’s talking about -would have roused you to lift the roof off once.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m all against the new rules,” answered -the young man coolly. “I’ve been very much -against them; what you might call up against them. -In fact, I’ve already broken all those new laws and -a few more. Could you let me look at that cutting -for a moment?”</p> - -<p>Hood handed it to him and he nodded, saying:</p> - -<p>“Yes; I was arrested for that.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>“Arrested for what?”</p> - -<p>“Arrested for being a rich and respectable old -lady,” answered Hilary Pierce; “but I managed to -escape that time. It was a fine sight to see the old -lady clear a hedge and skedaddle across a meadow.”</p> - -<p>Hood looked at him under bended brows and his -mouth began to work.</p> - -<p>“But what’s all this about the old lady having a -pug or a pet or something?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it was very nearly a pug,” said Pierce -in a dispassionate manner. “I pointed out to everybody -that it was, as it were, an approximate pug. -I asked if it was just to punish me for a small -mistake in spelling.”</p> - -<p>“I begin to understand,” said Hood. “You were -again smuggling swine down to your precious Blue -Boar, and thought you could rush the frontier in -very rapid cars.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied the smuggler placidly. “We were -quite literally Road-Hogs. I thought at first of -dressing the pigs up as millionaires and members -of Parliament; but when you come to look close, -there’s more difference than you would imagine to -be possible. It was great fun when they forced me -to take my pet out of the wrapping of shawls, and -they found what a large pet it was.”</p> - -<p>“And do I understand,” cut in the Colonel, “that -it was something like that—with the other laws?”</p> - -<p>“The other laws,” said Pierce, “are certainly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -arbitrary, but perhaps you do not altogether do them -justice. You do not quite appreciate their motive. -You do not fully allow for their origin. I may say, -I trust with all modesty, that I was their origin. -I not only had the pleasure of breaking those laws, -but the pleasure of making them.”</p> - -<p>“More of your tricks, you mean,” said the Colonel; -“but why don’t the papers say so?”</p> - -<p>“The authorities don’t want ’em to,” answered -Pierce. “The authorities won’t advertise me, you -bet. I’ve got far too much popular backing for -that. When the real revolution happens, it won’t -be mentioned in the newspapers.”</p> - -<p>He paused a moment in meditation and then -went on.</p> - -<p>“When the police searched for my pug and found -it was a pig, I started wondering how they could -best be stopped from doing it again. It occurred to -me they might be shy of a wild pig or a pug that -bit them. So, of course, I travelled the next time -with dreadfully dangerous animals in cages, warning -everybody of the fiercest tigers and panthers that -ever were known. When they found it out and -didn’t want to let it out, they could only fall back -on their own tomfoolery of a prohibition wholesale. -Of course, it was the same with my other stunt, about -the sick people going to health resorts to be cured of -various fashionable and refined maladies. The pigs -had a dignified, possibly a rather dull time, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> -elaborately curtained railway carriages with hospital -nurses to wait on them; while I stood outside and -assured the railway officials that the cure was a rest -cure, and the invalids must on no account be -disturbed.”</p> - -<p>“What a liar you are!” exclaimed Hood in simple -admiration.</p> - -<p>“Not at all,” said Pierce with dignity. “It was -quite true that they were going to be cured.”</p> - -<p>Crane, who had been gazing rather abstractedly -out of the window, slowly turned his head and said -abruptly: “And how’s it going to end? Do you -propose to go on doing all these impossible things?”</p> - -<p>Pierce sprang to his feet with a resurrection of -all the romantic abandon of his vow over the pig-sty.</p> - -<p>“Impossible!” he cried. “You don’t know what -you’re saying or how true it is. All I’ve done so far -was possible and prosaic. But I will do an impossible -thing. I will do something that is written in -all books and rhymes as impossible—something that -has passed into a proverb of the impossible. The -war is not ended yet; and if you two fellows will -post yourselves in the quarry opposite the Blue Boar, -on Thursday week at sunset, you will see something -so impossible and so self-evident that even the organs -of public information will find it hard to hide it.”</p> - -<p>It was in that part of the steep fall of pine-wood -where the quarry made a sort of ledge under a roof<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -of pine that two gentlemen of something more than -middle age who had not altogether lost the appetite -of adventure posted themselves with all the preparations -due to a picnic or a practical joke. It was -from that place, as from a window looking across -the valley, that they saw what seemed more like a -vision; what seemed indeed rather like the parody -of an apocalypse. The large clearance of the -western sky was of a luminous lemon tint, as of -pale yellow fading to pale green, while one or two -loose clouds on the horizon were of a rose-red and -yet richer colours. But the setting sun itself was -a cloudless fire, so that a tawny light lay over the -whole landscape; and the inn of the Blue Boar -standing opposite looked almost like a house of -gold. Owen Hood was gazing in his dreamy fashion, -and said at last:</p> - -<p>“There’s an apocalyptic sign in heaven for you -to start with. It’s a queer thing, but that cloud -coming up the valley is uncommonly like the shape -of a pig.”</p> - -<p>“Very like a whale,” said Colonel Crane, yawning -slightly; but when he turned his eyes in that -direction, the eyes were keener. Artists have remarked -that a cloud has perspective like anything -else; but the perspective of the cloud coming up the -valley was curiously solid.</p> - -<p>“That’s not a cloud,” he said sharply, “it’s a -Zeppelin or something.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>The solid shape grew larger and larger; and as -it grew more obvious it grew more incredible.</p> - -<p>“Saints and angels!” cried Hood suddenly. -“Why, it <i>is</i> a pig!”</p> - -<p>“It’s shaped like a pig all right,” said the Colonel -curtly; and indeed as the great balloon-like form -bulked bigger and bigger above its own reflection -in the winding river, they could see that the long -sausage-shaped Zeppelin body of it had been fantastically -decorated with hanging ears and legs, to -complete that pantomimic resemblance.</p> - -<p>“I suppose it’s some more of Hilary’s skylarking,” -observed Hood; “but what is he up to now?”</p> - -<p>As the great aërial monster moved up the valley -it paused over the inn of the Blue Boar, and something -fell fluttering from it like a brightly coloured -feather.</p> - -<p>“People are coming down in parachutes,” said -the Colonel shortly.</p> - -<p>“They’re queer-looking people,” remarked his -companion, peering under frowning brows, for the -level light was dazzling to the eyes. “By George, -they’re not people at all! They’re pigs!”</p> - -<p>From that distance, the objects in question had -something of the appearance of cherubs in some -gaily coloured Gothic picture, with the yellow sky -for their gold-leaf background. The parachute -apparatus from which they hung and hovered was -designed and coloured with the appearance of a great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> -wheel of gorgeously painted plumage, looking more -gaudy than ever in the strong evening light that lay -over all. The more the two men in the quarry stared -at these strange objects, the more certain it seemed -that they were indeed pigs; though whether the pigs -were dead or alive it was impossible at that distance -to say. They looked down into the garden of the -inn into which the feathered things were dropping, -and they could see the figure of Joan Hardy standing -in front of the old pig-sty, with her bird-like head -lifted, looking up into the sky.</p> - -<p>“Singular present for a young lady,” remarked -Crane, “but I suppose when our mad young friend -does start love-making, he would be likely to give -impossible presents.”</p> - -<p>The eyes of the more poetical Hood were full of -larger visions, and he hardly seemed to be listening. -But as the sentence ended he seemed to start from a -trance and struck his hands together.</p> - -<p>“Yes!” he cried in a new voice, “we always come -back to that word!”</p> - -<p>“Come back to what word?” asked his friend.</p> - -<p>“‘Impossible,’” answered Owen Hood. “It’s the -word that runs through his whole life, and ours too -for that matter. Don’t you see what he has done?”</p> - -<p>“I see what he has done all right,” answered -the Colonel, “but I’m not at all sure I see what you -are driving at.”</p> - -<p>“What we have seen is another impossible thing,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -said Owen Hood; “a thing that common speech has -set up as a challenge; a thing that a thousand rhymes -and jokes and phrases have called impossible. We -have seen pigs fly.”</p> - -<p>“It’s pretty extraordinary,” admitted Crane, “but -it’s not so extraordinary as their not being allowed to -walk.”</p> - -<p>And they gathered their travelling tackle together -and began to descend the steep hill.</p> - -<p>In doing so, they descended into a deeper twilight -between the stems of the darkling trees; the walls -of the valley began to close over them, as it were, and -they lost that sense of being in the upper air in a -radiant topsy-turvydom of clouds. It was almost as -if they had really had a vision; and the voice of -Crane came abruptly out of the dusk, almost like -that of a doubter when he speaks of a dream.</p> - -<p>“The thing I can’t understand,” he said abruptly, -“is how Hilary managed to <i>do</i> all that by himself.”</p> - -<p>“He really is a very wonderful fellow,” said Hood. -“You told me yourself he did wonders in the War. -And though he turns it to these fanatical ends now, -it takes as much trouble to do one as the other.”</p> - -<p>“Takes a devilish lot more trouble to do it alone,” -said Crane. “In the War there was a whole -organization.”</p> - -<p>“You mean he must be more than a remarkable -person,” suggested Hood, “a sort of giant with a -hundred hands or god with a hundred eyes. Well,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> -a man will work frightfully hard when he wants -something very much; even a man who generally -looks like a lounging minor poet. And I think I -know what it was he wanted. He deserves to get it. -It’s certainly his hour of triumph.”</p> - -<p>“Mystery to me, all the same,” said the Colonel -frowning. “Wonder whether he’ll ever clear it up.” -But that part of the mystery was not to be cleared -up until many other curious things had come to pass.</p> - -<p>Away on another part of the slope Hilary Pierce, -new lighted on the earth like the herald Mercury, -leapt down into a red hollow of the quarry and came -towards Joan Hardy with uplifted arms.</p> - -<p>“This is no time for false modesty,” he said. -“It is the hour, and I come to you covered with -glory——”</p> - -<p>“You come covered with mud,” she said smiling, -“and it’s that horrible red mud that takes so long -to dry. It’s no use trying to brush it till——”</p> - -<p>“I bring you the Golden Fleece, or at any rate -the Golden Pig-Skin,” he cried in lyric ecstasy. -“I have endured the labours; I have achieved the -quest. I have made the Hampshire Hog as legendary -as the Calydonian Boar. They forbade me -to drive it on foot, and I drove it in a car, disguised -as a pug. They forbade me to bring it in a car, and -I brought it in a railway-train, disguised as an -invalid. They forbade me to use a railway-train, -and I took the wings of the morning and rose to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> -uttermost parts of the air; by a way secret and -pathless and lonely as the wilful way of love. I -have made my romance immortal. I have written -your name upon the sky. What do you say to me -now? I have turned a Pig into a Pegasus. I have -done impossible things.”</p> - -<p>“I know you have,” she said, “but somehow I -can’t help liking you for all that.”</p> - -<p>“<i>But</i> you can’t help liking me,” he repeated in -a hollow voice. “I have stormed heaven, but still -I am not so bad. Hercules can be tolerated in spite -of his Twelve Labours. St. George can be forgiven -for killing the Dragon. Woman, is this the -way I am treated in the hour of victory; and is this -the graceful fashion of an older world? Have you -become a New Woman, by any chance? What has -your father been doing? What does he say—about -us?”</p> - -<p>“My father says you are quite mad, of course,” -she replied, “but he can’t help liking you either. -He says he doesn’t believe in people marrying out -of their class; but that if I must marry a gentleman -he’d rather it was somebody like you, and not one of -the new gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m glad I’m an old gentleman, anyhow,” -he answered somewhat mollified. “But really this -prevalence of common sense is getting quite dangerous. -Will nothing rouse you all to a little unreality; -to saying, so to speak, ‘O, for the wings of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -pig that I might flee away and be at rest.’ What -would you say if I turned the world upside-down and -set my foot upon the sun and moon?”</p> - -<p>“I should say,” replied Joan Hardy, still smiling, -“that you wanted somebody to look after you.”</p> - -<p>He stared at her for a moment in an almost abstracted -fashion as if he had not fully understood; -then he laughed quite suddenly and uncontrollably, -like a man who has seen something very close to -him that he knows he is a fool not to have seen -before. So a man will fall over something in a game -of hiding-and-seeking, and get up shaken with -laughter.</p> - -<p>“What a bump your mother earth gives you when -you fall out of an aeroplane,” he said, “especially -when your flying ship is only a flying pig. The -earth of the real peasants and the real pigs—don’t -be offended; I assure you the confusion is a compliment. -What a thing is horse-sense, and how much -finer really than the poetry of Pegasus! And when -there is everything else as well that makes the sky -clean and the earth kind, beauty and bravery and -the lifting of the head—well, you are right enough, -Joan. Will you take care of me? Will you stop at -home and clip my pig’s wings?”</p> - -<p>He had caught hold of her by the hands; but -she still laughed as she answered:</p> - -<p>“Yes—I told you I couldn’t help—but you must<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -really let go, Hilary. I can see your friends coming -down from the quarry.”</p> - -<p>As she spoke, indeed, Colonel Crane and Owen -Hood could be seen descending the slope and passing -through a screen of slender trees towards them.</p> - -<p>“Hullo!” said Hilary Pierce cheerfully. “I want -you to congratulate me. Joan thinks I’m an awful -humbug, and right she is; I am what has been called -a happy hypocrite. At least you fellows may think -I’ve been guilty of a bit of a fake in this last affair, -when I tell you the news. Well, I will confess.”</p> - -<p>“What news do you mean?” inquired the Colonel -with curiosity.</p> - -<p>Hilary Pierce grinned and made a gesture over -his shoulder to the litter of porcine parachutes, to -indicate his last and crowning folly.</p> - -<p>“The truth is,” he said laughing, “that was only -a final firework display to celebrate victory or failure, -whichever you choose to call it. There isn’t any -need to do any more, because the veto is removed.”</p> - -<p>“Removed?” exclaimed Hood. “Why on earth -is that? It’s rather unnerving when lunatics suddenly -go sane like that.”</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t anything to do with the lunatics,” -answered Pierce quietly. “The real change was -much higher up, or rather lower down. Anyhow, -it was much farther at the back of things, where the -Big Businesses are settled by the big people.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>“What was the change?” asked the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“Old Oates has gone into another business,” -answered Pierce quietly.</p> - -<p>“What on earth has old Oates to do with it?” -asked Hood staring. “Do you mean that Yankee -mooning about over mediæval ruins?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know,” said Pierce wearily, “I thought he -had nothing to do with it; I thought it was the Jews -and vegetarians, and the rest; but they’re very innocent -instruments. The truth is that Enoch Oates -is the biggest pork-packer and importer in the world, -and <i>he</i> didn’t want any competition from our cottagers. -And what he says goes, as he would express -it. Now, thank God, he’s taken up another line.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>But if any indomitable reader wishes to know -what was the new line Mr. Oates pursued and why, -it is to be feared that his only course is to await -and read patiently the story of the Exclusive Luxury -of Enoch Oates; and even before reaching that -supreme test, he will have to support the recital of -The Elusive Companion of Parson White; for these, -as has been said, are tales of topsy-turvydom, and -they often work backwards.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">IV<br> - -THE ELUSIVE COMPANION OF<br> -PARSON WHITE</h2> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> - -<p class="ph1">IV<br> - -THE ELUSIVE COMPANION OF<br> -PARSON WHITE</p> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IN the scriptures and the chronicles of the League -of the Long Bow, or fellowship of foolish persons -doing impossible things, it is recorded that -Owen Hood, the lawyer, and his friend Crane, the -retired Colonel, were partaking one afternoon of a -sort of picnic on the river-island that had been the -first scene of a certain romantic incident in the life -of the former, the burden of reading about which has -fallen upon other readers in other days. Suffice it -to say that the island had been devoted by Mr. -Hood to his hobby of angling, and that the meal then -in progress was a somewhat early interruption of -the same leisurely pursuit. The two old cronies -had a third companion, who, though considerably -younger, was not only a companion but a friend. -He was a light-haired, lively young man, with rather -a wild eye, known by the name of Pierce, whose -wedding to the daughter of the innkeeper of the -Blue Boar the others had only recently attended.</p> - -<p>He was an aviator and given to many other forms -of skylarking. The two older men had eccentric -tastes of their own; but there is always a difference<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> -between the eccentricity of an elderly man who -defies the world and the enthusiasm of a younger -man who hopes to alter it. The old gentleman may -be willing, in a sense, to stand on his head; but he -does not hope, as the boy does, to stand the world on -its head. With a young man like Hilary Pierce it -was the world itself that was to be turned upside-down; -and that was a game at which his more -grizzled companions could only look on, as at a child -they loved playing with a big coloured balloon.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was this sense of a division by time, -altering the tone, though not the fact, of friendship, -which sent the mind of one of the older men back -to the memory of an older friend. He remembered -he had had a letter that morning from the only contemporary -of his who could fitly have made a fourth -to their party. Owen Hood drew the letter from his -pocket with a smile that wrinkled his long, humorous, -cadaverous face.</p> - -<p>“By the way, I forgot to tell you,” he said, “I -had a letter from White yesterday.”</p> - -<p>The bronzed visage of the Colonel was also seamed -with the external signs of a soundless chuckle.</p> - -<p>“Read it yet?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied the lawyer; “the hieroglyphic was -attacked with fresh vigour after breakfast this -morning, and the clouds and mysteries of yesterday’s -laborious hours seemed to be rolled away. Some -portions of the cuneiform still await an expert translation;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -but the sentences themselves appear to be -in the original English.”</p> - -<p>“Very original English,” snorted Colonel Crane.</p> - -<p>“Yes, our friend is an original character,” replied -Hood. “Vanity tempts me to hint that he is our -friend because he has an original taste in friends. -That habit of his of putting the pronoun on the first -page and the noun on the next has brightened many -winter evenings for me. You haven’t met our friend -White, have you?” he added to Pierce. “That is a -shock that still threatens you.”</p> - -<p>“Why, what’s the matter with him?” inquired -Pierce.</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” observed Crane in his more staccato -style. “Has a taste for starting a letter with ‘Yours -Truly’ and ending it with ‘Dear Sir’; that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“I should rather like to hear that letter,” observed -the young man.</p> - -<p>“So you shall,” answered Hood, “there’s nothing -confidential in it; and if there were, you wouldn’t -find it out merely by reading it. The Rev. Wilding -White, called by some of his critics ‘Wild White,’ is -one of those country parsons, to be found in corners -of the English countryside, of whom their old college -friends usually think in order to wonder what the -devil their parishoners think of them. As a matter -of fact, my dear Hilary, he was rather like you -when he was your age; and what in the world you -would be like as a vicar in the Church of England,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -aged fifty, might at first stagger the imagination; -but the problem might be solved by supposing you -would be like him. But I only hope you will have -a more lucid style in letter-writing. The old boy -is always in such a state of excitement about something -that it comes out anyhow.”</p> - -<p>It has been said elsewhere that these tales are, -in some sense, of necessity told tail-foremost, and -certainly the letter of the Rev. Wilding White was a -document suited to such a scheme of narrative. It -was written in what had once been a good handwriting -of the bolder sort, but which had degenerated -through excessive energy and haste into an illegible -scrawl. It appeared to run as follows:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“‘My dear Owen,—My mind is quite made -up; though I know the sort of legal long-winded -things you will say against it; I know especially -one thing a leathery old lawyer like you is bound -to say; but as a matter of fact even you can’t -say it in a case like this, because the timber -came from the other end of the county and had -nothing whatever to do with him or any of his -flunkeys and sycophants. Besides, I did it all -myself with a little assistance I’ll tell you about -later; and even in these days I should be surprised -to hear <i>that</i> sort of assistance could be -anything but a man’s own affair. I defy you -and all your parchments to maintain that <i>it</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> -comes under the Game Laws. You won’t mind -me talking like this; I know jolly well you’d -think you were acting as a friend; but I think -the time has come to speak plainly.’”</p> -</div> - -<p>“Quite right,” said the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said young Pierce, with a rather vague -expression, “I’m glad he feels that the time has come -to speak plainly.”</p> - -<p>“Quite so,” observed the lawyer drily; “he continues -as follows:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“‘I’ve got a lot to tell you about the new -arrangement, which works much better even than -I hoped. I was afraid at first it would really -be an encumbrance, as you know it’s always -supposed to be. But there are more things, and -all the rest of it, and God fulfils himself, and -so on and so on. It gives one quite a weird -Asiatic feeling sometimes.’”</p> -</div> - -<p>“Yes,” said the Colonel, “it does.”</p> - -<p>“What does?” asked Pierce, sitting up suddenly, -like one who can bear no more.</p> - -<p>“You are not used to the epistolary method,” -said Hood indulgently; “you haven’t got into the -swing of the style. It goes on:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“‘Of course, he’s a big pot down here, and -all sorts of skunks are afraid of him and pretend<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -to boycott me. Nobody could expect anything -else of those pineapple people, but I confess I -was surprised at Parkinson. Sally of course is -as sound as ever; but she goes to Scotland a -good deal and you can’t blame her. Sometimes -I’m left pretty severely alone, but I’m not downhearted; -you’ll probably laugh if I tell you that -Snowdrop is really a very intelligent companion.’”</p> -</div> - -<p>“I confess I am long past laughter,” said Hilary -Pierce sadly; “but I rather wish I knew who Snowdrop -is.”</p> - -<p>“Child, I suppose,” said the Colonel shortly.</p> - -<p>“Yes; I suppose it must be a child,” said Pierce. -“Has he any children?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said the Colonel. “Bachelor.”</p> - -<p>“I believe he was in love with a lady in those -parts and never married in consequence,” said Hood. -“It would be quite on the lines of fiction and film-drama -if Snowdrop were the daughter of the lady, -when she had married Another. But there seems -to be something more about Snowdrop, that little -sunbeam in the house:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“‘Snowdrop tries to enter into our ways, as -they always do; but, of course, it would be a -little awkward if she played tricks. How -alarmed they would all be if she took it into -her head to walk about on two legs, like everybody -else.’”</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>“Nonsense!” ejaculated Colonel Crane. “Can’t -be a child—talking about it walking about on two -legs.”</p> - -<p>“After all,” said Pierce thoughtfully, “a little -girl does walk about on two legs.”</p> - -<p>“Bit startling if she walked about on three,” said -Crane.</p> - -<p>“If my learned brother will allow me,” said Hood, -in his forensic manner, “would he describe the fact -of a little girl walking on two legs as alarming?”</p> - -<p>“A little girl is always alarming,” replied Pierce.</p> - -<p>“I’ve come to the conclusion myself,” went on -Hood, “that Snowdrop must be a pony. It seems a -likely enough name for a pony. I thought at first it -was a dog or a cat but alarming seems a strong word -even for a dog or a cat sitting up to beg. But a -pony on its hind legs might be a little alarming, -especially when you’re riding it. Only I can’t fit -this view in with the next sentence: ‘I’ve taught -her to reach down the things I want.’”</p> - -<p>“Lord!” cried Pierce. “It’s a monkey!”</p> - -<p>“That,” replied Hood, “had occurred to me as -possibly explaining the weird Asiatic atmosphere. -But a monkey on two legs is even less unusual than -a dog on two legs. Moreover, the reference to -Asiatic mystery seems really to refer to something -else and not to any animal at all. For he ends up -by saying: ‘I feel now as if my mind were moving -in much larger and more ancient spaces of time or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> -eternity; and as if what I thought at first was an -oriental atmosphere was only an atmosphere of the -orient in the sense of dayspring and the dawn. It -has nothing to do with the stagnant occultism of -decayed Indian cults; it is something that unites -a real innocence with the immensities, a power as -of the mountains with the purity of snow. This -vision does not violate my own religion, but rather -reinforces it; but I cannot help feeling that I have -larger views. I hope in two senses to preach liberty -in these parts. So I may live to falsify the proverb -after all.’</p> - -<p>“That,” added Hood, folding up the letter, “is the -only sentence in the whole thing that conveys anything -to my mind. As it happens, we have all three -of us lived to falsify proverbs.”</p> - -<p>Hilary Pierce had risen to his feet with the restless -action that went best with his alert figure. “Yes,” -he said; “I suppose we can all three of us say we -have lived for adventures, or had some curious ones -anyhow. And to tell you the truth, the adventure -feeling has come on me very strong this very minute. -I’ve got the detective fever about that parson of -yours. I should like to get at the meaning of that -letter, as if it were a cipher about buried treasure.”</p> - -<p>Then he added more gravely: “And if, as I -gather, your clerical friend is really a friend worth -having, I do seriously advise you to keep an eye<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -on him just now. Writing letters upside-down is -all very well, and I shouldn’t be alarmed about that. -Lots of people think they’ve explained things in -previous letters they never wrote. I don’t think it -matters who Snowdrop is, or what sort of children -or animals he chooses to be fond of. That’s all -being eccentric in the good old English fashion, like -poetical tinkers and mad squires. You’re both of -you eccentric in that sort of way, and it’s one of the -things I like about you. But just because I -naturally knock about more among the new people, -I see something of the new eccentricities. And believe -me, they’re not half so nice as the old ones. -I’m a student of scientific aviation, which is a new -thing itself, and I like it. But there’s a sort of -spiritual aviation that I don’t like at all.”</p> - -<p>“Sorry,” observed Crane. “Really no notion of -what you’re talking about.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you haven’t,” answered Pierce with -engaging candour; “that’s another thing I like about -you. But I don’t like the way your clerical friend -talks about new visions and larger religions and light -and liberty from the East. I’ve heard a good many -people talk like that, and they were mountebanks or -the dupes of mountebanks. And I’ll tell you another -thing. It’s a long shot even with the long bow -we used to talk about. It’s a pretty wild guess even -in this rather wild business. But I have a creepy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -sort of feeling that if you went down to his house and -private parlour to see Snowdrop, you’d be surprised -at what you saw.”</p> - -<p>“What should we see?” asked the Colonel, staring.</p> - -<p>“You’d see nothing at all,” replied the young man.</p> - -<p>“What on earth do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“I mean,” replied Pierce, “that you’d find Mr. -White talking to somebody who didn’t seem to be -there.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Hilary Pierce, fired by his detective fever, made -a good many more inquiries about the Rev. Wilding -White, both of his two old friends and elsewhere.</p> - -<p>One long legal conversation with Owen Hood did -indeed put him in possession of the legal outline of -certain matters, which might be said to throw a light -on some parts of the strange letter, and which might -in time even be made to throw a light on the rest. -White was the vicar of a parish lying deep in the -western parts of Somersetshire, where the principal -landowner was a certain Lord Arlington. And in -this case there had been a quarrel between the -squire and the parson, of a more revolutionary sort -than is common in the case of parsons. The clergyman -intensely resented that irony or anomaly which -has caused so much discontent among tenants in Ireland -and throughout the world; the fact that improvements -or constructive work actually done by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -the tenant only pass into the possession of the landlord. -He had considerably improved a house that he -himself rented from the squire, but in some kind of -crisis of defiance or renunciation, he had quitted -this more official residence bag and baggage, and -built himself a sort of wooden lodge or bungalow on -a small hill or mound that rose amid woods on the -extreme edge of the same grounds. This quarrel -about the claim of the tenant to his own work was -evidently the meaning of certain phrases in the -letter—such as the timber coming from the other -end of the county, the sort of work being a man’s -own affair, and the general allusion to somebody’s -flunkeys or sycophants who attempted to boycott the -discontented tenant. But it was not quite clear -whether the allusions to a new arrangement, and how -it worked, referred to the bungalow or to the other -and more elusive mystery of the presence of Snowdrop.</p> - -<p>One phrase in the letter he found to have been -repeated in many places and to many persons without -becoming altogether clear in the process. It -was the sentence that ran: “I was afraid at first -it would really be an encumbrance, as you know it’s -always supposed to be.” Both Colonel Crane and -Owen Hood, and also several other persons whom he -met later in his investigations, were agreed in saying -that Mr. White had used some expression indicating -that he had entangled himself with something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -troublesome or at least useless; something that he -did not want. None of them could remember the -exact words he had used; but all could state in general -terms that it referred to some sort of negative -nuisance or barren responsibility. This could -hardly refer to Snowdrop, of whom he always wrote -in terms of tenderness as if she were a baby or a -kitten. It seemed hard to believe it could refer to -the house he had built entirely to suit himself. It -seemed as if there must be some third thing in his -muddled existence, which loomed vaguely in the -background through the vapour of his confused correspondence.</p> - -<p>Colonel Crane snapped his fingers with a mild irritation -in trying to recall a trifle. “He said it was -a—you know, I’ve forgotten the word—a botheration -or embarrassment. But then he’s always in a -state of botheration and embarrassment. I didn’t -tell you, by the way, that I had a letter from him -too. Came the day after I heard yours. Shorter, -and perhaps a little plainer.” And he handed the -letter to Hood, who read it out slowly:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“‘I never knew the old British populace, here -in Avalon itself, could be so broken down by -squires and sneaking lawyers. Nobody dared -help me move my house again; said it was illegal -and they were afraid of the police. But Snowdrop -helped, and we carted it all away in two or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> -three journeys; took it right clean off the old -fool’s land altogether this time. I fancy the old -fool will have to admit there are things in this -world he wasn’t prepared to believe in.’”</p> -</div> - -<p>“But look here,” began Hood as if impulsively, -and then stopped and spoke more slowly and carefully. -“I don’t understand this; I think it’s extremely -odd. I don’t mean odd for an ordinary -person, but odd for an odd person; odd for this odd -person. I know White better than either of you -can, and I can tell you that, though he tells a tale -anyhow, the tale is always true. He’s rather precise -and pedantic when you do come to the facts; -these litigious quarrelsome people often are. He -would do extraordinary things, but he wouldn’t make -them out more extraordinary than they were. I -mean he’s the sort of man who might break all the -squire’s windows, but he wouldn’t say he’d broken -six when he’d broken five. I’ve always found when -I’d got to the meaning of those mad letters that it -was quite true. But how can this be true? How -could Snowdrop, whatever she is, have moved a -whole house, or old White either?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose you know what I think,” said Pierce. -“I told you that Snowdrop, whatever else she is, is -invisible. I’m certain your friend has gone Spiritualist, -and Snowdrop is the name of a spirit, or a -control, or whatever they call it. The spirit would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> -say, of course, that it was mere child’s play to throw -the house from one end of the county to the other. -But if this unfortunate gentleman believes himself -to have been thrown, house and all, in that fashion, -I’m very much afraid he’s begun really to suffer -from delusions.”</p> - -<p>The faces of the two older men looked suddenly -much older, perhaps for the first time they looked -old. The young man seeing their dolorous expression -was warmed and fired to speak quickly.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” he said hastily, “I’ll go down there -myself and find out what I can for you. I’ll go -this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“Train journey takes ages,” said the Colonel, -shaking his head. “Other end of nowhere. Told -me yourself you had an appointment at the Air Ministry -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Be there in no time,” replied Pierce cheerfully. -“I’ll fly down.”</p> - -<p>And there was something in the lightness and -youth of his vanishing gesture that seemed really -like Icarus spurning the earth, the first man to -mount upon wings.</p> - -<p>Perhaps this literally flying figure shone the more -vividly in their memories because, when they saw -it again, it was in a subtle sense changed. When the -other two next saw Hilary Pierce on the steps of the -Air Ministry, they were conscious that his manner -was a little quieter, but his wild eye rather wilder<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -than usual. They adjourned to a neighbouring -restaurant and talked of trivialities while luncheon -was served; but the Colonel, who was a keen observer, -was sure that Pierce had suffered some sort -of shock, or at least some sort of check. While -they were considering what to say Pierce himself -said abruptly, staring at a mustard-pot on the -table:</p> - -<p>“What do you think about spirits?”</p> - -<p>“Never touch ’em,” said the Colonel. “Sound -port never hurt anybody.”</p> - -<p>“I mean the other sort,” said Pierce. “Things -like ghosts and all that.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said Owen Hood. “The Greek -for it is agnosticism. The Latin for it is ignorance. -But have you really been dealing with ghosts and -spirits down at poor White’s parsonage?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said Pierce gravely.</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean you really think you saw something!” -cried Hood sharply.</p> - -<p>“There goes the agnostic!” said Pierce with a -rather weary smile. “The minute the agnostic hears -a bit of real agnosticism he shrieks out that it’s -superstition. I say I don’t know whether it was a -spirit. I also say I don’t know what the devil else -it was if it wasn’t. In plain words, I went down to -that place convinced that poor White had got some -sort of delusions. Now I wonder whether it’s I -that have got the delusions.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>He paused a moment and then went on in a more -collected manner:</p> - -<p>“But I’d better tell you all about it. To begin -with, I don’t admit it as an explanation, but it’s -only fair to allow for it as a fact—that all that part -of the world seems to be full of that sort of thing. -You know how the glamour of Glastonbury lies over -all that land and the lost tomb of King Arthur and -time when he shall return and the prophecies of -Merlin and all the rest. To begin with, the village -they call Ponder’s End ought to be called World’s -End; it gives one the impression of being somewhere -west of the sunset. And then the parsonage is quite -a long way west of the parish, in large neglected -grounds fading into pathless woods and hills; I mean -the old empty rectory that our wild friend has -evacuated. It stood there a cold empty shell of flat -classical architecture, as hollow as one of those -classical temples they used to stick up in country -seats. But White must have done some sort of -parish work there, for I found a great big empty shed -in the grounds—that sort of thing that’s used for a -schoolroom or drill-hall or what not. But not a sign -of him or his work can be seen there now. I’ve said -it’s a long way west of the village that you come at -last to the old house. Well, it’s a long way west of -that that you come to the new house—if you come -to it at all. As for me, I came and I came not, as -in some old riddle of Merlin. But you shall hear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>“I had come down about sunset in a meadow near -Ponder’s End, and I did the rest of the journey on -foot, for I wanted to see things in detail. This was -already difficult as it was growing dusk, and I began -to fear I should find nothing of importance before -nightfall. I had asked a question or two of the villagers -about the vicar and his new self-made vicarage. -They were very reticent about the former, but -I gathered that the latter stood at the extreme edge -of his original grounds on a hill rising out of a -thicket of wood. In the increasing darkness it was -difficult to find the place, but I came on it at last, in -a place where a fringe of forest ran along under the -low brows of a line of rugged cliffs, such as sometimes -break the curves of great downlands. I -seemed to be descending a thickly wooded slope, -with a sea of tree-tops below me, and out of that -sea, like an island, rose the dome of the isolated -hill; and I could faintly see the building on it, -darker against the dark-clouded sky. For a moment -a faint line of light from the masked moon -showed me a little more of its shape, which seemed -singularly simple and airy in its design. Against -that pallid gleam stood four strong columns, with -the bulk of building apparently lifted above them; -but it produced a queer impression, as if this Christian -priest had built for his final home a heathen -temple of the winds. As I leaned forward, peering -at it, I overbalanced myself and slid rapidly down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -the steep thicket into the darkest entrails of the -wood. From there I could see nothing of the pillared -house or temple or whatever it was on the hill; -the thick woods had swallowed me up literally like -a sea, and I groped for what must have been nearly -half an hour amid tangled roots and low branches, -in that double darkness of night and shadow, before -I found my feet slipping on the opposite slope and -began to climb the hill on the top of which the temple -stood. It was very difficult climbing, of course, -through a network of briars and branching trees, -and it was some little time afterwards that I burst -through the last screen of foliage and came out upon -the bare hill-top.</p> - -<p>“Yes; upon the bare hill-top. Rank grasses grew -on it, and the wind blew them about like hair on a -head; but for any trace of anything else, that green -dome was as bare as a skull. There was no sign -or shadow of the building I had seen there a little -time before; it had vanished like a fairy palace. -A broad track broken through the woods seemed -to lead up to it, so far as I could make out in that -obscurity; but there was no trace of the building -to which it led. And when I saw that, I gave up. -Something told me I should find out no more; -perhaps I had some shaken sense that there were -things past finding out. I retraced my steps, descending -the hill as best I might; but when I was -again swallowed up in that leafy sea, something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> -happened that, for an instant, turned me cold as -stone. An unearthly noise, like long hooting laughter, -rang out in vast volume over the forest and rose -to the stars. It was no noise to which I could put a -name; it was certainly no noise I had ever heard -before; it bore some sort of resemblance to the -neighing of a horse immensely magnified; yet it -might have been half human, and there was triumph -in it and derision.</p> - -<p>“I will tell you one more thing I learnt before -I left those parts. I left them at once, partly because -I really had an appointment early this morning, -as I told you; partly also, I think, because I felt -you had the right to know at once what sort of -things were to be faced. I was alarmed when I -thought your friend was tormented with imaginary -bogies; I am not less alarmed if he had got mixed -up with real ones. Anyhow, before I left that -village I had told one man what I had seen, and he -told me he had seen it also. But he had seen it -actually moving, in dusk turning to dark; the whole -great house, with its high columns, moving across -the fields like a great ship sailing on land.”</p> - -<p>Owen Hood sat up suddenly, with awakened eyes, -and struck the table.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” he cried, with a new ring in his -voice, “we must all go down to Ponder’s End and -bring this business to a finish.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think you will bring it to a finish?”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -asked Pierce gloomily; “or can you tell what sort -of a finish?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Hood resolutely. “I think I can -finish it, and I think I know what the finish will be. -The truth is, my friend, I think I understand the -whole thing now. And as I told you before, Wilding -White, so far from being deluded by imaginary -bogies, is a gentleman very exact in his statements. -In this matter he has been very exact. That has -been the whole mystery about him—that he has -been very much too exact.”</p> - -<p>“What on earth do you mean by that?” asked -Pierce.</p> - -<p>“I mean,” said the lawyer, “that I have suddenly -remembered the phrase he used. It was very exact; -it was dull, literal truth. But I can be exact, too, -at times, and just now I should like to look at a -time-table.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>They found the village of Ponder’s End in a -condition as comically incongruous as could well -be with the mystical experiences of Mr. Hilary -Pierce. When we talk of such places as sleepy, -we forget that they are very wide-awake about their -own affairs, and especially on their own festive -occasions. Piccadilly Circus looks much the same -on Christmas Day or any other; but the marketplace -of a country town or village looks very different<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> -on the day of a fair or bazaar. And Hilary Pierce, -who had first come down there to find in a wood at -midnight the riddle that he thought worthy of Merlin, -came down the second time to find himself plunged -suddenly into the middle of the bustling bathos of a -jumble sale. It was one of those bazaars to provide -bargains for the poor, at which all sorts of odds and -ends are sold off. But it was treated as a sort of -fête, and highly-coloured posters and handbills announced -its nature on every side. The bustle -seemed to be dominated by a tall dark lady of distinguished -appearance, whom Owen Hood, rather to -the surprise of his companions, hailed as an old -acquaintance and managed to draw aside for a -private talk. She had appeared to have her hands -full at the bazaar; nevertheless, her talk with Hood -was rather a long one. Pierce only heard the last -words of it:</p> - -<p>“Oh, he promised he was bringing something for -the sale. I assure you he always keeps his word.”</p> - -<p>All Hood said when he rejoined his companion -was: “That’s the lady White was going to marry. -I think I know now why things went wrong, and I -hope they may go right. But there seems to be -another bother. You see that clump of clod-hopping -policemen over there, inspector and all. It seems -they’re waiting for White. Say he’s broken the law -in taking his house off the land, and that he has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -always eluded them. I hope there won’t be a scene -when he turns up.”</p> - -<p>If this was Mr. Hood’s hope, it was ill-founded -and destined to disappointment. A scene was but -a faint description of what was in store for that -hopeful gentleman. Within ten minutes the greater -part of the company were in a world in which the -sun and moon seemed to have turned topsy-turvy -and the last limit of unlikelihood had been reached. -Pierce had imagined he was very near that limit of -the imagination when he groped after the vanishing -temple in the dark forest. But nothing he had -seen in that darkness and solitude was so fantastic -as what he saw next in broad daylight in a crowd.</p> - -<p>At one extreme edge of the crowd there was a -sudden movement—a wave of recoil and wordless -cries. The next moment it had swept like a wind -over the whole populace, and hundreds of faces were -turned in one direction—in the direction of the road -that descended by a gradual slope towards the woods -that fringed the vicarage grounds. Out of those -woods at the foot of the hill had emerged something -that might from its size have been a large -light grey omnibus. But it was not an omnibus. -It scaled the slope so swiftly, in great strides, that -it became instantly self-evident what it was. It -was an elephant, whose monstrous form was moulded -in grey and silver in the sunlight, and on whose -back sat very erect a vigorous middle-aged gentleman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -in black clerical attire, with blanched hair and -a rather fierce aquiline profile that glanced proudly -to left and right.</p> - -<p>The police inspector managed to make one step -forward, and then stood like a statue. The vicar, -on his vast steed, sailed into the middle of the -marketplace as serenely as if he had been the -master of a familiar circus. He pointed in triumph -to one of the red and blue posters on the wall, which -bore the traditional title of “White Elephant -Sale.”</p> - -<p>“You see I’ve kept my word,” he said to the lady -in a loud, cheerful voice. “I’ve brought a white -elephant.”</p> - -<p>The next moment he had waved his hand hilariously -in another direction, having caught sight of -Hood and Crane in the crowd.</p> - -<p>“Splendid of you to come!” he called out. “Only -you were in the secret. I told you I’d got a white -elephant.”</p> - -<p>“So he did,” said Hood; “only it never occurred -to us that the elephant was an elephant and not a -metaphor. So that’s what he meant by Asiatic -atmosphere and snow and mountains. And that’s -what the big shed was really for.”</p> - -<p>“Look here,” said the inspector, recovering from -his astonishment and breaking in on these felicitations. -“I don’t understand all these games, but -it’s my business to ask a few questions. Sorry to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -say it, sir, but you’ve ignored our notifications and -evaded our attempts to——”</p> - -<p>“Have I?” inquired Mr. White brightly. “Have -I really evaded you? Well, well, perhaps I have. -An elephant is such a standing temptation to evasion, -to evanescence, to fading away like a dewdrop. -Like a snowdrop perhaps would be more appropriate. -Come on, Snowdrop.”</p> - -<p>The last word came smartly, and he gave a smart -smack to the huge head of the pachyderm. Before -the inspector could move or anyone had realized -what had happened, the whole big bulk had pitched -forward with a plunge like a cataract and went in -great whirling strides, the crowd scattering before -it. The police had not come provided for elephants, -which are rare in those parts. Even if they had -overtaken it on bicycles, they would have found it -difficult to climb it on bicycles. Even if they had -had revolvers, they had omitted to conceal about -their persons anything in the way of big-game rifles. -The white monster vanished rapidly up the long -white road, so rapidly that when it dwindled to a -small object and disappeared, people could hardly -believe that such a prodigy had ever been present, -or that their eyes had not been momentarily bewitched. -Only, as it disappeared in the distance, -Pierce heard once more the high nasal trumpeting -noise which, in the eclipse of night, had seemed to -fill the forest with fear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>It was at a subsequent meeting in London that -Crane and Pierce had an opportunity of learning, -more or less, the true story of the affair, in the form -of another letter from the parson to the lawyer.</p> - -<p>“Now that we know the secret,” said Pierce -cheerfully, “even his account of it ought to be quite -clear.”</p> - -<p>“Quite clear,” replied Hood calmly. “His letter -begins, ‘Dear Owen, I am really tremendously grateful -in spite of all I used to say against leather and -about horse-hair.’”</p> - -<p>“About what?” asked Pierce.</p> - -<p>“Horse-hair,” said Hood with severity. “He -goes on, ‘The truth is they thought they could do -what they liked with me because I always boasted -that I hadn’t got one, and never wanted to have one; -but when they found I had got one, and I must -really say a jolly good one, of course it was all quite -different.’”</p> - -<p>Pierce had his elbows on the table, and his fingers -thrust up into his loose yellow hair. He had rather -the appearance of holding his head on. He was -muttering to himself very softly, like a schoolboy -learning a lesson.</p> - -<p>“He had got one, but he didn’t want one, and -he hadn’t got one and he had a jolly good one.”</p> - -<p>“One what?” asked Crane irritably. “Seems like -a missing word competition.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got the prize,” observed Hood placidly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> -“The missing word is ‘solicitor.’ What he means -is that the police took liberties with him because they -knew he would not have a lawyer. And he is perfectly -right; for when I took the matter up on his -behalf, I soon found that they had put themselves -on the wrong side of the law at least as much as he -had. In short, I was able to extricate him from this -police business; hence his hearty if not lucid gratitude. -But he goes on to talk about something rather -more personal; and I think it really has been a -rather interesting case, if he does not exactly shine -as a narrator of it. As I dare say you noticed, I -did know something of the lady whom our eccentric -friend went courting years ago, rather in the spirit -of Sir Roger de Coverley when he went courting the -widow. She is a Miss Julia Drake, daughter of a -country gentleman. I hope you won’t misunderstand -me if I say that she is a rather formidable -lady. She is really a thoroughly good sort; but that -air of the black-browed Juno she has about her does -correspond to some real qualities. She is one of -those people who can manage big enterprises, and the -bigger they are the happier she is. When that sort -of force functions within the limits of a village or a -small valley, the impact is sometimes rather overpowering. -You saw her managing the White Elephant -Sale at Ponder’s End. Well, if it had been -literally an army of wild elephants, it would hardly -have been on too large a scale for her tastes. In<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -that sense, I may say that our friend’s white elephant -was not so much of a white elephant. I mean that -in that sense it was not so much of an irrelevancy -and hardly even a surprise. But in another way, -it was a very great relief.”</p> - -<p>“You’re getting nearly as obscure as he is,” remonstrated -Pierce. “What is all this mysterious -introduction leading up to? What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“I mean,” replied the lawyer, “that experience -has taught me a little secret about very practical -public characters like that lady. It sounds a paradox; -but those practical people are often more -morbid than theoretical people. They are capable -of acting; but they are also capable of brooding when -they are not acting. Their very stoicism makes too -sentimental a secret of their sentimentalism. They -misunderstand those they love; and make a mystery -of the misunderstanding. They suffer in silence; -a horrid habit. In short, they can do everything; -but they don’t know how to do nothing. Theorists, -happy people who do nothing, like our friend -Pierce——”</p> - -<p>“Look here,” cried the indignant Pierce. “I -should like to know what the devil you mean? I’ve -broken more law than you ever read in your life. -If this psychological lecture is the new lucidity, -give me Mr. White.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, very well,” replied Hood, “if you prefer his -text to my exposition, he describes the same situation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> -as follows: ‘I ought to be grateful, being -perfectly happy after all this muddle; I suppose one -ought to be careful about nomenclature; but it never -even occurred to me that her nose would be out of -joint. Rather funny to be talking about noses, -isn’t it, for I suppose really it was her rival’s nose -that figured most prominently. Think of having a -rival with a nose like that to turn up at you! Talk -about a spire pointing to the stars——’”</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Crane, interposing mildly, “that -it would be better if you resumed your duties as -official interpreter. What was it that you were going -to say about the lady who brooded over misunderstandings?”</p> - -<p>“I was going to say,” replied the lawyer, “that -when I first came upon that crowd in the village, -and saw that tall figure and dark strong face dominating -it in the old way, my mind went back to a -score of things I remembered about her in the past. -Though we have not met for ten years, I knew from -the first glimpse of her face that she had been worrying, -in a powerful secretive sort of way; worrying -about something she didn’t understand and would -not inquire about. I remember long ago, when she -was an ordinary fox-hunting squire’s daughter and -White was one of Sydney Smith’s wild curates, how -she sulked for two months over a mistake about -a post-card that could have been explained in two -minutes. At least it could have been explained by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -anybody except White. But you will understand -that if he tried to explain the post-card on another -post-card, the results may not have been luminous, -let alone radiant.”</p> - -<p>“But what has all this to do with noses?” inquired -Pierce.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you understand yet?” asked Hood with -a smile. “Don’t you know who was the rival with -a long nose?”</p> - -<p>He paused a moment and then continued, “It -occurred to me as soon as I had guessed at the -nature of the nose which may certainly be called the -main feature of the story. An elusive, flexible and -insinuating nose, the serpent of their Eden. Well, -they seem to have returned to their Eden now; -and I have no doubt it will be all right; for it is -when people are separated that these sort of secrets -spring up between them. After all, it was a mystery -to us and we cannot be surprised if it was a mystery -to her.”</p> - -<p>“A good deal of this is still rather a mystery to -me,” remarked Pierce, “though I admit it is getting -a little clearer. You mean that the point that has -just been cleared up is——”</p> - -<p>“The point about Snowdrop,” replied Hood. -“We thought of a pony, and a monkey, and a baby, -and a good many other things that Snowdrop might -possibly be. But we never thought of the interpretation -which was the first to occur to the lady.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>There was a silence, and then Crane laughed in -an internal fashion.</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t blame her,” he said. “One could -hardly expect a lady of any delicacy to deduce an -elephant.”</p> - -<p>“It’s an extraordinary business, when you come -to think of it,” said Pierce. “Where did he get -the elephant?”</p> - -<p>“He says something about that too,” said Hood -referring to the letter. “He says, ‘I may be a -quarrelsome fellow. But quarrels sometimes do -good. And though it wasn’t actually one of Captain -Pierce’s caravans——’”</p> - -<p>“No hang it all!” cried Pierce. “This is really -too much! To see one’s own name entangled in -such hieroglyphics—it reminds me of seeing it in -a Dutch paper during the war; and wondering -whether all the other words were terms of abuse.”</p> - -<p>“I think I can explain,” answered Hood patiently. -“I assure you the reverend gentleman is not taking -liberties with your name in a merely irresponsible -spirit. As I told you before, he is strictly truthful -when you get at the facts, though they may be -difficult to get at. Curiously enough, there really -is a connexion. I sometimes think there is a connexion -beyond coincidence running through all our -adventures; a purpose in these unconscious practical -jokes. It seems rather eccentric to make friends -with a white elephant——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>“Rather eccentric to make friends with us,” said -the Colonel. “We are a set of white elephants.”</p> - -<p>“As a matter of fact,” said the lawyer, “this -particular last prank of the parson really did arise -out of the last prank of our friend Pierce.”</p> - -<p>“Me!” said Pierce in surprise. “Have I been -producing elephants without knowing it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Hood. “You remember when you -were smuggling pigs in defiance of the regulations, -you indulged (I regret to say) in a deception of -putting them in cages and pretending you were -travelling with a menagerie of dangerous animals. -The consequence was, you remember, that the -authorities forbade menageries altogether. Our -friend White took up the case of a travelling circus -being stopped in his town as a case of gross oppression; -and when they had to break it up, he took over -the elephant.”</p> - -<p>“Sort of small payment for his services, I suppose,” -said Crane. “Curious idea, taking a tip in -the form of an elephant.”</p> - -<p>“He might not have done it if he’d known what -it involved,” said Hood. “As I say, he was a -quarrelsome fellow, with all his good points.”</p> - -<p>There was a silence, and then Pierce said in a -musing manner: “It’s odd it should be the sequel -of my little pig adventure. A sort of reversal of the -<i>parturiunt montes</i>; I put in a little pig and it brought -forth an elephant.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>“It will bring forth more monsters yet,” said -Owen Hood. “We have not seen all the sequels -of your adventures as a swineherd.”</p> - -<p>But touching the other monsters or monstrous -events so produced, the reader has already been -warned—nay, threatened—that they are involved in -the narrative called the Exclusive Luxury of Enoch -Oates, and for the moment the threat must hang -like thunder in the air.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">V<br> - -THE EXCLUSIVE LUXURY OF<br> -ENOCH OATES</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> - -<p class="ph1">V<br> - -THE EXCLUSIVE LUXURY OF<br> -ENOCH OATES</p> -</div> - -<p class="center">“Since the Colonel ate his hat the Lunatic Asylum has -lacked a background.”</p> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE conscientious scribe cannot but be aware -that the above sentence standing alone and -without reference to previous matters, may -not entirely explain itself. Anyone trying the experiment -of using that sentence for practical social -purposes; tossing that sentence lightly as a greeting -to a passer-by; sending that sentence as a telegram -to a total stranger; whispering that sentence -hoarsely into the ear of the nearest policeman, and -so on, will find that its insufficiency as a full and -final statement is generally felt. With no morbid -curiosity, with no exaggerated appetite for omniscience, -men will want to know more about this -statement before acting upon it. And the only way -of explaining it, and the unusual circumstances in -which it came to be said, is to pursue the doubling -and devious course of these narratives, and return -to a date very much earlier, when men now more -than middle-aged were quite young.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>It was in the days when the Colonel was not the -Colonel, but only Jimmy Crane, a restless youth -tossed about by every wind of adventure, but as -yet as incapable of discipline as of dressing for dinner. -It was in days before Robert Owen Hood, the -lawyer, had ever begun to study the Law and had -only got so far as to abolish it; coming down to the -club every night with a new plan for a revolution to -turn all earthly tribunals upside-down. It was in -days before Wilding White settled down as a country -parson, returning to the creed though not the -conventions of his class and country; when he was -still ready to change his religion once a week, turning -up sometimes in the costume of a monk and -sometimes of a mufti, and sometimes in what he -declared to be the original vestments of a Druid, -whose religion was shortly to be resumed by the -whole British people. It was in days when their -young friend Hilary Pierce, the aviator, was still -anticipating aviation by flying a small kite. In -short, it was early in the lives even of the elders -of the group that they had founded a small social -club, in which their long friendships had flourished. -The club had to have some sort of name, and the -more thoughtful and detached among them, who -saw the club steadily and saw it whole, considered -the point with ripe reflection, and finally called -their little society the Lunatic Asylum.</p> - -<p>“We might all stick straws in our hair for dinner,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -as the Romans crowned themselves with roses for -the banquet,” observed Hood. “It would correspond -to dressing for dinner; I don’t know what -else we could do to vary the vulgar society trick -of all wearing the same sort of white waistcoats.”</p> - -<p>“All wearing strait-waistcoats, I suppose,” said -Crane.</p> - -<p>“We might each dine separately in a padded cell, -if it comes to that,” said Hood; “but there seems -to be something lacking in it considered as a social -evening.”</p> - -<p>Here Wilding White, who was then in a monastic -phase, intervened eagerly. He explained that in -some monasteries a monk of peculiar holiness was -allowed to become a hermit in an inner cell, and proposed -a similar arrangement at the club. Hood, with -his more mellow rationalism, intervened with a -milder amendment. He suggested that a large padded -chair should represent the padded cell, and be -reserved like a throne for the loftiest of the lunatics.</p> - -<p>“Do not,” he said gently and earnestly, “do not let -us be divided by jealousies and petty ambitions. -Do not let us dispute among ourselves which shall -be dottiest in the domain of the dotty. Perhaps -one will appear worthier than us all, more manifestly -and magnificently weak in the head; for him let the -padded throne stand empty.”</p> - -<p>Jimmy Crane had said no more after his brief<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> -suggestion, but was pacing the room like a polar -bear, as he generally did when there came upon him -a periodical impulse to go off after things like polar -bears. He was the wildest of all those wild figures -so far as the scale of his adventures was concerned, -constantly vanishing to the ends of the earth nobody -knew why, and turning up again nobody knew how. -He had a hobby, even in his youth, that made his -outlook seem even stranger than the bewildering -successive philosophies of his friend White. He had -an enthusiasm for the myths of savages, and while -White was balancing the relative claims of Buddhism -and Brahmanism, Crane would boldly declare -his preference for the belief that a big fish ate the -sun every night, or that the whole cosmos was created -by cutting up a giant. Moreover, there was -with all this something indefinable but in some way -more serious about Crane even in these days. There -was much that was merely boyish about the blind -impetuosity of Wilding White, with his wild hair -and eager aquiline face. He was evidently one who -might (as he said) learn the secret of Isis, but would -be quite incapable of keeping it to himself. The -long, legal face of Owen Hood had already learned -to laugh at most things, if not to laugh loudly. But -in Crane there was something more hard and militant -like steel, and as he proved afterwards in the -affair of the hat, he could keep a secret even when -it was a joke. So that when he finally went off on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> -a long tour round the world, with the avowed intention -of studying all the savages he could find, nobody -tried to stop him. He went off in a startlingly -shabby suit, with a faded sash instead of a waistcoat, -and with no luggage in particular, except a -large revolver slung round him in a case like a field-glass, -and a big, green umbrella that he flourished -resolutely as he walked.</p> - -<p>“Well, he’ll come back a queerer figure than he -went, I suppose,” said Wilding White.</p> - -<p>“He couldn’t,” answered Hood, the lawyer, shaking -his head. “I don’t believe all the devil-worship -in Africa could make him any madder than he is.”</p> - -<p>“But he’s going to America first, isn’t he?” said -the other.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Hood. “He’s going to America, but -not to see the Americans. He would think the -Americans very dull compared with the American -Indians. Possibly he will come back in feathers -and war-paint.”</p> - -<p>“He’ll come back scalped, I suppose,” said White -hopefully. “I suppose being scalped is all the rage -in the best Red Indian society?”</p> - -<p>“Then he’s working round by the South Sea Islands,” -said Hood. “They don’t scalp people there; -they only stew them in pots.”</p> - -<p>“He couldn’t very well come back stewed,” said -White, musing. “Does it strike you, Owen, that -we should hardly be talking nonsense like this if we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> -hadn’t a curious faith that a fellow like Crane will -know how to look after himself?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Hood gravely. “I’ve got a very -fixed fundamental conviction that Crane will turn -up again all right. But it’s true that he may look -jolly queer after going <i>fantee</i> for all that time.”</p> - -<p>It became a sort of pastime at the club of the -Lunatics to compete in speculations about the -guise in which the maddest of their madmen would -return, after being so long lost to civilization. And -grand preparations were made as for a sort of Walpurgis -Night of nonsense when it was known at last -that he was really returning. Hood had received -letters from him occasionally, full of queer mythologies, -and then a rapid succession of telegrams from -places nearer and nearer home, culminating in the -announcement that he would appear in the club that -night. It was about five minutes before dinnertime -that a sharp knock on the door announced his -arrival.</p> - -<p>“Bang all the gongs and the tom-toms,” cried -Wilding White. “The Lord High Mumbo-Jumbo -arrives riding on the nightmare.”</p> - -<p>“We had better bring out the throne of the King -of the Maniacs,” said Hood, laughing. “We may -want it at last,” and he turned towards the big padded -chair that still stood at the top of the table.</p> - -<p>As he did so James Crane walked into the room. -He was clad in very neat and well-cut evening<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span> -clothes, not too fashionable, and a little formal. His -hair was parted on one side, and his moustache clipped -rather close; he took a seat with a pleasant -smile, and began talking about the weather.</p> - -<p>He was not allowed, however, to confine his conversation -to the weather. He had certainly succeeded -in giving his old friends the only sort of -surprise that they really had not expected; but they -were too old friends for their friend to be able to -conceal from them the meaning of such a change. -And it was on that festive evening that Crane explained -his position; a position which he maintained -in most things ever afterwards, and one which is the -original foundation of the affair that follows.</p> - -<p>“I have lived with the men we call savages all -over the world,” he said simply, “and I have found -out one truth about them. And I tell you, my -friends, you may talk about independence and individual -self-expression till you burst. But I’ve -always found, wherever I went, that the man who -could really be trusted to keep his word, and to -fight, and to work for his family, was the man who -did a war-dance before the moon where the moon -was worshipped, and wore a nose-ring in his nose -where nose-rings were worn. I have had plenty of -fun, and I won’t interfere with anyone else having -it. But I believe I have seen what is the real making -of mankind, and I have come back to my tribe.”</p> - -<p>This was the first act of the drama which ended in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> -the remarkable appearance and disappearance of Mr. -Enoch Oates, and it has been necessary to narrate -it briefly before passing on to the second act. Ever -since that time Crane had preserved at once his eccentric -friends and his own more formal customs. -And there were many among the newer members of -the club who had never known him except as the -Colonel, the grizzled, military gentleman whose -severe scheme of black and white attire and strict -politeness in small things formed the one foil of -sharp contrast to that many-coloured Bohemia. One -of these was Hilary Pierce, the young aviator; and -much as he liked the Colonel, he never quite understood -him. He had never known the old soldier in -his volcanic youth, as had Hood and White, and -therefore never knew how much of the fire remained -under the rock or the snows. The singular affair of -the hat, which has been narrated to the too patient -reader elsewhere, surprised him more than it did the -older men, who knew very well that the Colonel was -not so old as he looked. And the impression increased -with all the incidents which a fanatical love -of truth has forced the chronicler to relate in the -same connexion; the incident of the river and of the -pigs and of the somewhat larger pet of Mr. Wilding -White. There was talk of renaming the Lunatic -Asylum as the League of the Long Bow, and of commemorating -its performances in a permanent ritual. -The Colonel was induced to wear a crown of cabbage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -on state occasions, and Pierce was gravely invited to -bring his pigs with him to dine at the club.</p> - -<p>“You could easily bring a little pig in your large -pocket,” said Hood. “I often wonder people do -not have pigs as pets.”</p> - -<p>“A pig in a poke, in fact,” said Pierce. “Well, so -long as you have the tact to avoid the indelicacy of -having pork for dinner that evening, I suppose I -could bring my pig in my pocket.”</p> - -<p>“White’d find it rather a nuisance to bring his -elephant in his pocket,” observed the Colonel.</p> - -<p>Pierce glanced at him, and had again the feeling of -incongruity at seeing the ceremonial cabbage adorning -his comparatively venerable head. For the Colonel -had just been married, and was rejuvenated -in an almost jaunty degree. Somehow the philosophical -young man seemed to miss something, and -sighed. It was then that he made the remark which -is the pivot of this precise though laborious anecdote.</p> - -<p>“Since the Colonel ate his hat,” he said, “the -Lunatic Asylum has lacked a background.”</p> - -<p>“Damn your impudence,” said the Colonel cheerfully. -“Do you mean to call me a background to -my face?”</p> - -<p>“A dark background,” said Pierce soothingly. -“Do not resent my saying a dark background. I -mean a grand, mysterious background like that of -night; a sublime and even starry background.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>“Starry yourself,” said Crane indignantly.</p> - -<p>“It was against that background of ancient night,” -went on the young man dreamily, “that the fantastic -shapes and fiery colours of our carnival could -really be seen. So long as he came here with his -black coat and beautiful society manners there was -a foil to our follies. We were eccentric, but he was -our centre. You cannot be eccentric without a -centre.”</p> - -<p>“I believe Hilary is quite right,” said Owen Hood -earnestly. “I believe we have made a great mistake. -We ought not to have all gone mad at once. -We ought to have taken it in turns to go mad. Then -I could have been shocked at his behaviour on Mondays, -Wednesdays, and Fridays, and he could have -been shocked at my behaviour on Tuesdays, Thursdays, -and Saturdays. But there is no moral value in -going mad when nobody is shocked. If Crane leaves -off being shocked, what are we to do?”</p> - -<p>“I know what we want,” began Pierce excitedly.</p> - -<p>“So do I,” interrupted Hood. “We want a sane -man.”</p> - -<p>“Not so easy to find nowadays,” said the old -soldier. “Going to advertise?”</p> - -<p>“I mean a stupid man,” explained Owen Hood. -“I mean a man who’s conventional all through, not -a humbug like Crane. I mean, I want a solid, serious -business man, a hard-headed, practical man of -affairs, a man to whom vast commercial interests are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> -committed. In a word, I want a fool; some beautiful, -rounded, homogeneous fool, in whose blameless -face, as in a round mirror, all our fancies may really -be reflected and renewed. I want a very successful -man, a very wealthy man, a man——”</p> - -<p>“I know! I know!” cried young Pierce, almost -waving his arms. “Enoch Oates!”</p> - -<p>“Who’s Enoch Oates?” inquired White.</p> - -<p>“Are the lords of the world so little known?” -asked Hood.</p> - -<p>“Enoch Oates is Pork, and nearly everything -else; Enoch Oates is turning civilization into one -vast sausage-machine. Didn’t I ever tell you how -Hilary ran into him over that pig affair?”</p> - -<p>“He’s the very man you want,” cried Hilary -Pierce enthusiastically. “I know him, and I believe -I can get him. Being a millionaire, he’s entirely -ignorant. Being an American, he’s entirely in earnest. -He’s got just that sort of negative Nonconformist -conscience of New England that balances -the positive money-getting of New York. If we -want to surprise anybody we’ll surprise him. Let’s -ask Enoch Oates to dinner.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t have any practical jokes played on -guests,” said the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“Of course not,” replied Hood. “He’ll be only -too pleased to take it seriously. Did you ever know -an American who didn’t like seeing the Sights? And -if you don’t know you’re a Sight with that cabbage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> -on your head, it’s time an American tourist taught -you.”</p> - -<p>“Besides, there’s a difference,” said Pierce. “I -wouldn’t ask a fellow like that doctor, Horace Hunter——”</p> - -<p>“Sir Horace Hunter,” murmured Hood reverently.</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t ask him, because I really think him -a sneak and a snob, and my invitation could only be -meant as an insult. But Oates is not a man I hate, -nor is he hateful. That’s the curious part of it. -He’s a simple, sincere sort of fellow, according to -his lights, which are pretty dim. He’s a thief and -a robber of course, but he doesn’t know it. I’m -asking him because he’s different; but I don’t imagine -he’s at all sorry to be different. There’s no -harm in giving a man a good dinner and letting him -be a background without knowing it.”</p> - -<p>When Mr. Enoch Oates in due course accepted -the invitation and presented himself at the club, -many were reminded of that former occasion when -a stiff and conventional figure in evening dress had -first appeared like a rebuke to the revels. But in -spite of the stiff sameness of both those black and -white costumes, there was a great deal of difference -between the old background and the new background. -Crane’s good manners were of that casual -kind that are rather peculiarly English, and mark -an aristocracy at its ease in the saddle. Curiously -enough, if the American had one point in common<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> -with a Continental noble of ancient lineage (whom -his daughter might have married any day), it was -that they would both be a little more on the defensive, -living in the midst of democracy. Mr. Oates -was perfectly polite, but there was something a little -rigid about him. He walked to his chair rather -stiffly and sat down rather heavily. He was a powerful, -ponderous man with a large sallow face, a -little suggestive of a corpulent Red Indian. He -had a ruminant eye, and equally ruminant manner -of chewing an unlighted cigar. These were signs -that might well have gone with a habit of silence. -But they did not.</p> - -<p>Mr. Oates’s conversation might not be brilliant, -but it was continuous. Pierce and his friends had -begun with some notion of dangling their own escapades -before him like dancing dolls before a child; -they had told him something of the affair of the -Colonel and his cabbage, of the captain and his -pigs, of the parson and his elephants; but they soon -found that their hearer had not come there merely -as a listener. What he thought of their romantic -buffooneries it would be hard to say; probably he -did not understand them, possibly he did not even -hear them. Anyhow, his own monologue went on. -He was a leisurely speaker. They found themselves -revising much that they had heard about the snap -and smartness and hurry of American talk. He -spoke without haste or embarrassment, his eye boring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> -into space, and he more than fulfilled Mr. -Pierce’s hopes of somebody who would talk about -business matters. His talk was a mild torrent of -facts and figures, especially figures. In fact the -background was doing all it could to contribute the -required undertone of common commercial life. -The background was justifying all their hopes that -it would be practical and prosaic. Only the background -had rather the air of having become the foreground.</p> - -<p>“When they put that up to me I saw it was the -proposition,” Mr. Oates was saying. “I saw I’d got -on to something better than my old regulation turnover -of eighty-five thousand dollars on each branch. -I reckoned I should save a hundred and twenty thousand -dollars in the long run by scrapping the old -plant, even if I had to drop another thirty thousand -dollars on new works, where I’d get the raw material -for a red cent. I saw right away that was the point -to freeze on to; that I just got a chance to sell -something I didn’t need to buy; something that -could be sort of given away like old match-ends. -I figured out it would be better by a long chalk to -let the other guys rear the stock and sell me their -refuse for next to nix, so I could get ahead with -turning it into the goods. So I started in right away -and got there at the first go-off with an increase of -seven hundred and fifty-one thousand dollars.”</p> - -<p>“Seven hundred and fifty-one thousand dollars,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -murmured Owen Hood. “How soothing it all -seems.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon those mutts didn’t get on to what they -were selling me,” continued Mr. Oates, “or didn’t -have the pep to use it that way themselves; for -though it was the sure-enough hot tip, it isn’t everybody -would have thought of it. When I was in -pork, of course, I wanted the other guys out; but -just now I wasn’t putting anything on pork, but only -on just that part of a pig I wanted and they didn’t -want. By notifying all your pig farmers I was able -to import nine hundred and twenty-five thousand -pigs’ ears this fall, and I guess I can get consignments -all winter.”</p> - -<p>Hood had some little legal experience with long-winded -commercial witnesses, and he was listening -by this time with a cocked eyebrow and an attention -much sharper than the dreamy ecstasy with which -the poetic Pierce was listening to the millionaire’s -monologue, as if to the wordless music of some ever-murmuring -brook.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me,” said Hood earnestly, “but did I -understand you to say pigs’ ears?”</p> - -<p>“That is so, Mr. Hood,” said the American with -great patience and politeness. “I don’t know -whether I gave you a sufficiently detailed description -for you to catch on to the proposition, but——”</p> - -<p>“Well,” murmured Pierce wistfully, “it sounded -to me like a detailed description.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>“Pardon me,” said Hood, checking him with a -frown. “I really want to understand this proposition -of Mr. Oates. Do I understand that you -bought pigs’ ears cheap, when the pigs were cut up -for other purposes, and that you thought you could -use them for some purpose of your own?”</p> - -<p>“Sure!” said Mr. Enoch Oates, nodding. “And -my purpose was about the biggest thing in fancy -goods ever done in the States. In the publicity line -there’s nothing like saying you can do what folks -say can’t be done. Flying in the face of proverbs -instead of providence, I reckon. It catches on at -once. We got to work, and got out the first advertisement -in no time; just a blank space with: ‘We -Can Do It’ in the middle. Got folks wondering for -a week what it was.”</p> - -<p>“I hope, sir,” said Pierce in a low voice, “that -you will not carry sound commercial principles so -far as to keep us wondering for a week what it -was.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Oates, “we found we could subject -the pigskin and bristles to a new gelat’nous process -for making artificial silk, and we figured that publicity -would do the rest. We came out with the -second set of posters: ‘She Wants it Now.’... -‘The Most Wonderful Woman on Earth is waiting -by the Old Fireside, hoping you’ll bring her home a -Pig’s Whisper Purse.’”</p> - -<p>“A purse!” gasped Hilary.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>“I see you’re on the notion,” proceeded the unmoved -American. “We called ’em Pig’s Whisper -Purses after the smartest and most popular poster -we ever had: ‘There was a Lady Loved a Swine.’ -You know the nursery rhyme, I guess; featured a -slap-up princess whispering in a pig’s ear. I tell -you there isn’t a smart woman in the States now -that can do without one of our pig-silk purses, and -all because it upsets the proverb. Why, see -here——”</p> - -<p>Hilary Pierce had sprung wildly to his feet with a -sort of stagger and clutched at the American’s arm.</p> - -<p>“Found! Found!” he cried hysterically. “Oh, -sir, I implore you to take the chair! Do, do take -the chair!”</p> - -<p>“Take the chair!” repeated the astonished millionaire, -who was already almost struggling in his -grasp. “Really, gentlemen, I hadn’t supposed the -proceedings were so formal as to require a chairman, -but in any case——”</p> - -<p>It could hardly be said, however, that the proceedings -were formal. Mr. Hilary Pierce had the -appearance of forcibly dragging Mr. Enoch Oates -in the direction of the large padded arm-chair, that -had always stood empty at the top of the club table, -uttering cries which, though incoherent, appeared to -be partly apologetic.</p> - -<p>“No offence,” he gasped. “Hope no misunderstanding -... <i>Honoris causa</i> ... you, you alone<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -are worthy of that seat ... the club has found its -king and justified its title at last.”</p> - -<p>Here the Colonel intervened and restored order. -Mr. Oates departed in peace; but Mr. Hilary Pierce -was still simmering.</p> - -<p>“And that is the end of our quiet, ordinary business -man,” he cried. “Such is the behaviour of our -monochrome and unobtrusive background.” His -voice rose to a sort of wail. “And we thought we -were dotty! We deluded ourselves with the hope -that we were pretty well off our chump! Lord have -mercy on us! American big business rises to a raving -idiocy compared with which we are as sane as -the beasts of the field. The modern commercial -world is far madder than anything we can do to -satirize it.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the Colonel good-humouredly, -“we’ve done some rather ridiculous things ourselves.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” cried Pierce excitedly, “but we did -them to make ourselves ridiculous. That unspeakable -man is wholly, serenely serious. He thinks -those maniacal monkey tricks are the normal life -of man. Your argument really answers itself. We -did the maddest things we could think of, meaning -them to look mad. But they were nothing like so -mad as what a modern business man does in the -way of business.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it’s the American business man,” said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> -White, “who’s too keen to see the humour of it.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” said Crane. “Millions of Americans -have a splendid sense of humour.”</p> - -<p>“Then how fortunate are we,” said Pierce reverently, -“through whose lives this rare, this ineffable, -this divine being has passed.”</p> - -<p>“Passed away for ever, I suppose,” said Hood -with a sigh. “I fear the Colonel must be our only -background once more.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Crane was frowning thoughtfully, and at -the last words his frown deepened to disapproval. -He puffed at his smouldering cigar and then, removing -it, said abruptly:</p> - -<p>“I suppose you fellows have forgotten how I came -to be a background? I mean, why I rather approve -of people being backgrounds.”</p> - -<p>“I remember something you said a long time -ago,” replied Hood. “Hilary must have been in -long-clothes at that time.”</p> - -<p>“I said I had found out something by going round -the world,” said Crane. “You young people think -I am an old Tory; but remember I am also an old -traveller. Well, it’s part of the same thing. I’m a -traditionalist because I’m a traveller. I told you -when I came back to the club that I’d come back to -the tribe. I told you that in all the tribes of the -world, the best man was the man true to his tribe. -I told you the best man was the man who wore a -nose-ring where nose-rings were worn.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>“I remember,” said Owen Hood.</p> - -<p>“No, you forget,” said Crane rather gruffly. -“You forget it when you talk about Enoch Oates -the American. I’m no politician, thank God, and -I shall look on with detachment if you dynamite him -for being a millionaire. As a matter of fact, he -doesn’t think half so much of money as old Normantowers, -who thinks it’s too sacred to talk about. -But you’re not dynamiting him for being a millionaire. -You’re simply laughing at him for being an -American. You’re laughing at him for being -national and normal, for being a good citizen, a good -tribesman, for wearing a nose-ring where nose-rings -are worn.”</p> - -<p>“I say ... Kuklux, you know,” remonstrated -Wilding White in his hazy way. “Americans -wouldn’t be flattered——”</p> - -<p>“Do you suppose you haven’t got a nose-ring?” -cried Crane so sharply that the clergyman started -from his trance and made a mechanical gesture as if -to feel for that feature. “Do you suppose a man -like you doesn’t carry his nationality as plain as the -nose on his face? Do you think a man as hopelessly -English as you are wouldn’t be laughed at in -America? You can’t be a good Englishman without -being a good joke. The better Englishman you are -the more of a joke you are; but still it’s better to be -better. Nose-rings are funny to people who don’t -wear ’em. Nations are funny to people who don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> -belong to ’em. But it’s better to wear a nose-ring -than to be a cosmopolitan crank who cuts off his -nose to spite his face.”</p> - -<p>This being by far the longest speech the Colonel -had ever delivered since the day he returned from -his tropical travels long ago, his old friends looked -at him with a certain curiosity; even his old friends -hardly understood how much he had been roused -in defence of a guest and of his own deep delicacies -about the point of hospitality. He went on with undiminished -warmth:</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s like that with poor Oates. He has, -as we see it, certain disproportions, certain insensibilities, -certain prejudices that stand out in our eyes -like deformities. They offend you; they offend me, -possibly rather more than they do you. You young -revolutionists think you’re very liberal and universal; -but the only result is that you’re narrow and -national without knowing it. We old fogeys know -our tastes are narrow and national; but we know -they are only tastes. And we know, at any rate I -know, that Oates is far more likely to be an honest -man, a good husband and a good father, because he -stinks of the rankest hickory patch in the Middle -West, than if he were some fashionable New -Yorker pretending to be an English aristocrat or -playing the æsthete in Florence.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t say a good husband,” pleaded Pierce with -a faint shudder. “It reminds me of the grand slap-up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -advertisement of the Pig’s Whisper. How do -you feel about that, my dear Colonel? The Most -Wonderful Woman on Earth Waiting by the Old -Fireside——”</p> - -<p>“It makes my flesh creep,” replied Crane. “It -chills me to the spine. I feel I would rather die -than have anything to do with it. But that has -nothing to do with my point. I don’t belong to the -tribe who wear nose-rings; nor to the tribe who talk -through their noses.”</p> - -<p>“Well, aren’t you a little thankful for that?” -asked White.</p> - -<p>“I’m thankful I can be fair in spite of it,” answered -Crane. “When I put a cabbage on my -head, I didn’t expect people not to stare at it. And -I know that each one of us in a foreign land is a -foreigner, and a thing to be stared at.”</p> - -<p>“What I don’t understand about him,” said Hood, -“is the sort of things he doesn’t mind having stared -at. How can people tolerate all that vulgar, reeking, -gushing commercial cant everywhere? How -can a man talk about the Old Fireside? It’s obscene. -The police ought to interfere.”</p> - -<p>“And that’s just where you’re wrong,” said the -Colonel. “It’s vulgar enough and mad enough and -obscene enough if you like. But it’s not cant. I -have travelled amongst these wild tribes, for years -on end; and I tell you emphatically it is not cant. -And if you want to know, just ask your extraordinary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> -American friend about his own wife and -his own relatively Old Fireside. He won’t mind. -That’s the extraordinary part of it.”</p> - -<p>“What does all this really mean, Colonel?” asked -Hilary Pierce.</p> - -<p>“It means, my boy,” answered the Colonel, “that -I think you owe our guest an apology.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>So it came about that there was an epilogue, as -there had been a prologue, to the drama of the entrance -and exit of Mr. Enoch B. Oates; an epilogue -which in its turn became a prologue to the later -dramas of the League of the Long Bow. For the -words of the Colonel had a certain influence on the -Captain, and the actions of the Captain had a certain -influence on the American millionaire; and so -the whole machinery of events was started afresh -by that last movement over the nuts and wine, when -Colonel Crane had stirred moodily in his seat and -taken his cigar out of his mouth.</p> - -<p>Hilary Pierce was an aimable and even excessively -optimistic young man by temperament, in -spite of his pugnacity; he would really have been -the last man in the world to wish to hurt the feelings -of a harmless stranger; and he had a deep and almost -secret respect for the opinions of the older -soldier. So, finding himself soon afterwards passing -the great gilded gateways of the highly American -hotel that was the London residence of the American,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span> -he paused a moment in hesitation and then -went in and gave his name to various overpowering -officials in uniforms that might have been those of -the German General Staff. He was relieved when -the large American came out to meet him with a -simple and lumbering affability, and offered his large -limp hand as if there had never been a shadow of -misunderstanding. It was somehow borne in upon -Pierce that his own rather intoxicated behaviour -that evening had merely been noted down along -with the architectural styles and the mellow mediævalism -of the pig-sty, as part of the fantasies of a -feudal land. All the antics of the Lunatic Asylum -had left the American traveller with the impression -that similar parlour games were probably being -played that evening in all the parlours of England. -Perhaps there was something, after all, in Crane’s -suggestion that every nation assumes that every -other nation is a sort of mild mad-house.</p> - -<p>Mr. Enoch Oates received his guest with great -hospitality and pressed on him cocktails of various -occult names and strange colours, though he himself -partook of nothing but a regimen of tepid milk.</p> - -<p>Pierce fell into the confidence of Mr. Enoch Oates -with a silent swiftness that made his brain reel with -bewilderment. He was staggered like a man who -had fallen suddenly through fifteen floors of a sky-scraper -and found himself in somebody’s bedroom. -At the lightest hint of the sort of thing to which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span> -Crane had alluded, the American opened himself -with an expansiveness that was like some gigantic -embrace. All the interminable tables of figures and -calculations in dollars had for the moment disappeared; -yet Oates was talking in the same easy and -natural nasal drawl, very leisurely and a little monotonous, -as he said:</p> - -<p>“I’m married to the best and brightest woman -God ever made, and I tell you it’s her and God between -them that have made me, and I reckon she -had the hardest part of it. We had nothing but a -few sticks when I started; and it was the way she -stood by that gave me the heart to risk even those -on my own judgment of how things were going in the -Street. I counted on a rise in Pork, and if it hadn’t -risen I’d have been broke and I dare say in the jug. -But she’s just wonderful. You should see her.”</p> - -<p>He produced her photograph with a paralysing -promptitude; it represented a very regal lady -dressed up to the nines, probably for the occasion, -with very brilliant eyes and an elaborate load of -light hair.</p> - -<p>“‘I believe in your star, Enoch,’ she said; ‘you -stick to Pork,’” said Oates, with tender reminiscence, -“and so we saw it through.”</p> - -<p>Pierce, who had been speculating with involuntary -irreverence on the extreme difficulty of conducting -a love-affair or a sentimental conversation in which -one party had to address the other as Enoch, felt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> -quite ashamed of his cynicism when the Star of -Pork shone with such radiance in the eyes of his -new friend.</p> - -<p>“It was a terrible time, but I stuck to Pork, sometimes -feeling she could see clearer than I could; -and of course she was right, and I’ve never known -her wrong. Then came my great chance of making -the combination and freezing out competition; and I -was able to give her the sort of things she ought to -have and let her take the lead as she should. I -don’t care for society much myself; but I’m often -glad on a late night at the office to ring her up and -hear she’s enjoying it.”</p> - -<p>He spoke with a ponderous simplicity that seemed -to disarm and crush the criticism of a more subtle -civilization. It was one of those things that are -easily seen to be absurd; but even after they are -seen to be absurd, they are still there. It may be, -after all, that that is the definition of the great -things.</p> - -<p>“I reckon that’s what people mean by the romance -of business,” continued Oates, “and though my business -got bigger and bigger, it made me feel kinda -pleased there had been a romance at the heart of it. -It had to get bigger, because we wanted to make -the combination water-tight all over the world. I -guess I had to fix things up a bit with your politicians. -But Congress men are alike all the world -over, and it didn’t trouble me any.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>There was a not uncommon conviction among -those acquainted with Captain Hilary Pierce that -that ingenious young man was cracked. He did a -great many things to justify the impression; and in -one sense certainly had never shown any reluctance -to make a fool of himself. But if he was a lunatic, -he was none the less a very English lunatic. And -the notion of talking about his most intimate affections, -suddenly, to a foreigner in an hotel, merely -because the conversation had taken that turn, was -something that he found quite terrifying. And yet -an instinct, an impulse running through all these -developments, told him that a moment had come and -that he must seize some opportunity that he hardly -understood.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” he said rather awkwardly, “I want -to tell you something.”</p> - -<p>He looked down at the table as he continued.</p> - -<p>“You said just now you were married to the best -woman in the world. Well, curiously enough, so am -I. It’s a coincidence that often happens. But it’s -a still more curious coincidence that, in our own -quiet way, we went in for Pork too. She kept pigs -at the back of the little country inn where I met her; -and at one time it looked as if the pigs might have -to be given up. Perhaps the inn as well. Perhaps -the wedding as well. We were quite poor, as poor -as you were when you started; and to the poor those -extra modes of livelihood are often life. We might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -have been ruined; and the reason was, I gather, that -you had gone in for Pork. But after all ours was -the real pork; pork that walked about on legs. We -made the bed for the pig and filled the inside of the -pig; you only bought and sold the name of the pig. -You didn’t go to business with a live little pig under -your arm or walk down Wall Street followed by a -herd of swine. It was a phantom pig, the ghost of -a pig, that was able to kill our real pig and perhaps -us as well. Can you really justify the way in which -your romance nearly ruined our romance? Don’t -you think there must be something wrong somewhere?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Oates after a very long silence, -“that’s a mighty big question and will take a lot of -discussing.”</p> - -<p>But the end to which their discussion led must be -left to reveal itself when the prostrate reader has -recovered sufficient strength to support the story of -The Unthinkable Theory of Professor Green, which -those who would endure to the end may read at -some later date.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">VI<br> - -THE UNTHINKABLE THEORY OF<br> -PROFESSOR GREEN</h2> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> - -<p class="ph1">VI<br> - -THE UNTHINKABLE THEORY OF<br> -PROFESSOR GREEN</p> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IF the present passage in the chronicles of the -Long Bow seems but a side issue, an interlude -and an idyll, a mere romantic episode lacking -that larger structural achievement which gives -solidity and hard actuality to the other stories, the -reader is requested not to be hasty in his condemnation; -for in the little love story of Mr. Oliver Green -is to be found, as in a parable, the beginning of the -final apotheosis and last judgment of all these things.</p> - -<p>It may well begin on a morning when the sunlight -came late but brilliant, under the lifting of great -clouds from a great grey sweep of wolds that grew -purple as they dipped again into distance. Much -of that mighty slope was striped and scored with -ploughed fields, but a rude path ran across it, along -which two figures could be seen in full stride outlined -against the morning sky.</p> - -<p>They were both tall; but beyond the fact that -they had both once been professional soldiers, of -rather different types and times, they had very little -in common. By their ages they might almost have -been father and son; and this would not have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> -contradicted by the fact that the younger appeared -to be talking all the time, in a high, confident and -almost crowing voice, while the elder only now -and then put in a word. But they were not father -and son; strangely enough they were really talking -and walking together because they were friends. -Those who know only too well their proceedings as -narrated elsewhere would have recognized Colonel -Crane, once of the Coldstream Guards, and Captain -Pierce, late of the Flying Corps.</p> - -<p>The young man appeared to be talking triumphantly -about a great American capitalist whom he -professed to have persuaded to see the error of his -ways. He talked rather as if he had been slumming.</p> - -<p>“I’m very proud of it, I can tell you,” he said. -“Anybody can produce a penitent murderer. It’s -something to produce a penitent millionaire. And -I do believe that poor Enoch Oates has seen the -light (thanks to my conversations at lunch); since -I talked to him, Oates is another and a better man.”</p> - -<p>“Sown his wild oats, in fact,” remarked Crane.</p> - -<p>“Well,” replied the other. “In a sense they were -very quiet oats. Almost what you might call -Quaker Oats. He was a Puritan and a Prohibitionist -and a Pacifist and an Internationalist; in -short, everything that is in darkness and the shadow -of death. But what you said about him was quite -right. His heart’s in the right place. It’s on his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -sleeve. That’s why I preached the gospel to the -noble savage and made him a convert.”</p> - -<p>“But what did you convert him to?” inquired -the other.</p> - -<p>“Private property,” replied Pierce promptly. -“Being a millionaire he had never heard of it. But -when I explained the first elementary idea of it in -a simple form, he was quite taken with the notion. -I pointed out that he might abandon robbery on a -large scale and create property on a small scale. -He felt it was very revolutionary, but he admitted -it was right. Well, you know he’d bought this big -English estate out here. He was going to play the -philanthropist, and have a model estate with all the -regular trimmings; heads hygienically shaved by -machinery every morning; and the cottagers admitted -once a month into their own front gardens -and told to keep off the grass. But I said to him: -‘If you’re going to give things to people, why not -give ’em? If you give your friend a plant in a -pot, you don’t send him an inspector from the Society -for the Prevention of Cruelty to Vegetables to -see he waters it properly. If you give your friend -a box of cigars, you don’t make him write a monthly -report of how many he smokes a day. Can’t you -be a little generous with your generosity? Why -don’t you use your money to make free men instead -of to make slaves? Why don’t you give your tenants -their land and have done with it, or let ’em<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span> -have it very cheap?’ And he’s done it; he’s really -done it. He’s created hundreds of small proprietors, -and changed the whole of this countryside. That’s -why I want you to come up and see one of the small -farms.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Colonel Crane, “I should like to see -the farm.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a lot of fuss about it, too; there’s the -devil of a row,” went on the young man, in very -high spirits. “Lots of big combines and things are -trying to crush the small farmers with all sorts of -tricks; they even complain of interference by an -American. You can imagine how much Rosenbaum -Low and Goldstein and Guggenheimer must be distressed -by the notion of a foreigner interfering in -England. I want to know how a foreigner could -interfere less than by giving back their land to the -English people and clearing out. They all put it on -to me; and right they are. I regard Oates as my -property; my convert; captive of my bow and -spear.”</p> - -<p>“Captive of your Long Bow, I imagine,” said -the Colonel. “I bet you told him a good many -things that nobody but a shrewd business man would -have been innocent enough to believe.”</p> - -<p>“If I use the Long Bow,” replied Pierce with dignity, -“it is a weapon with heroic memories proper -to a yeoman of England. With what more fitting -weapon could we try to establish a yeomanry?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>“There is something over there,” said Crane -quietly, “that looks to me rather like another sort -of weapon.”</p> - -<p>They had by this time come in full sight of the -farm buildings which crowned the long slope; and -beyond a kitchen-garden and an orchard rose a -thatched roof with a row of old-fashioned lattice -windows under it; the window at the end standing -open. And out of this window at the edge of the -block of building protruded a big black object, rigid -and apparently cylindrical, thrust out above the garden -and dark against the morning daylight.</p> - -<p>“A gun!” cried Pierce involuntarily; “looks just -like a howitzer; or is it an anti-aircraft gun?”</p> - -<p>“Anti-airman gun, no doubt,” said Crane; “they -heard you were coming down and took precautions.”</p> - -<p>“But what the devil can he want with a gun?” -muttered Pierce, peering at the dark outline.</p> - -<p>“And who the devil is <i>he</i>, if it comes to that?” -said the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“Why, that window,” explained Pierce. “That’s -the window of the room they’ve let to a paying -guest, I know. Man of the name of Green, I understand; -rather a recluse, and I suppose some sort of -crank.”</p> - -<p>“Not an anti-armament crank, anyhow,” said the -Colonel.</p> - -<p>“By George,” said Pierce, whistling softly, “I -wonder whether things really have moved faster<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> -than we could fancy! I wonder whether it’s a revolution -or a civil war beginning after all. I suppose -we are an army ourselves; I represent the Air Force -and you represent the infantry.”</p> - -<p>“You represent the infants,” answered the -Colonel. “You’re too young for this world; you -and your revolutions! As a matter of fact, it isn’t -a gun, though it does look rather like one. I see -now what it is.”</p> - -<p>“And what in the world is it?” asked his friend.</p> - -<p>“It’s a telescope,” said Crane. “One of those very -big telescopes they usually have in observatories.”</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t be partly a gun and partly a telescope?” -pleaded Pierce, reluctant to abandon his first fancy. -“I’ve often seen the phrase ‘shooting stars,’ but -perhaps I’ve got the grammar and sense of it wrong. -The young man lodging with the farmer may be -following one of the local sports—the local substitute -for duck-shooting!”</p> - -<p>“What in the world are you talking about?” -growled the other.</p> - -<p>“Their lodger may be shooting the stars,” explained -Pierce.</p> - -<p>“Hope their lodger isn’t shooting the moon,” said -the flippant Crane.</p> - -<p>As they spoke there came towards them through -the green and twinkling twilight of the orchard a -young woman with copper-coloured hair and a -square and rather striking face, whom Pierce saluted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> -respectfully as the daughter of the house. He was -very punctilious upon the point that these new -peasant farmers must be treated like small squires -and not like tenants or serfs.</p> - -<p>“I see your friend Mr. Green has got his telescope -out,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” said the girl. “They say Mr. Green -is a great astronomer.”</p> - -<p>“I doubt if you ought to call me ‘sir,’” said Pierce -reflectively. “It suggests rather the forgotten -feudalism than the new equality. Perhaps you -might oblige me by saying ‘Yes, citizen,’ then we -could continue our talk about Citizen Green on an -equal footing. By the way, pardon me, let me -present Citizen Crane.”</p> - -<p>Citizen Crane bowed politely to the young woman -without any apparent enthusiasm for his new title; -but Pierce went on:</p> - -<p>“Rather rum to call ourselves citizens when we’re -all so glad to be out of the city. We really want -some term suitable to rural equality. The Socialists -have spoilt ‘Comrade’; you can’t be a comrade -without a Liberty tie and a pointed beard. -Morris had a good notion of one man calling another -Neighbour. That sounds a little more rustic. -I suppose,” he added wistfully to the girl, “I suppose, -I could not induce you to call me Gaffer?”</p> - -<p>“Unless I’m mistaken,” observed Crane, “that’s -your astronomer wandering about in the garden.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -Think’s he’s a botanist, perhaps. Appropriate to -the name of Green.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he often wanders in the garden and down -to the meadow and the cowsheds,” said the young -woman. “He talks to himself a good deal, explaining -a great theory he’s got. He explains it to everybody -he meets, too. Sometimes he explains it to -me when I’m milking the cow.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you can explain it to us?” said Pierce.</p> - -<p>“Not so bad as that,” she said, laughing. “It’s -something like that Fourth Dimension they talk -about. But I’ve no doubt he’ll explain it to you if -you meet him.”</p> - -<p>“Not for me,” said Pierce. “I’m a simple peasant -proprietor and ask nothing but Three Dimensions -and a Cow.”</p> - -<p>“Cow’s the Fourth Dimension, I suppose,” said -Crane.</p> - -<p>“I must go and attend to the Fourth Dimension,” -she said with a smile.</p> - -<p>“Peasants all live by patchwork, running two or -three side-shows,” observed Pierce. “Curious sort -of livestock on the farm. Think of people living on -a cow and chickens and an astronomer.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke the astronomer approached along the -path by which the girl had just passed. His eyes -were covered with huge horn spectacles of a dim -blue colour; for he was warned to save his eyesight -for his starry vigils. This gave a misleading<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -look of morbidity to a face that was naturally frank -and healthy; and the figure, though stooping, was -stalwart. He was very absent-minded. Every now -and then he looked at the ground and frowned as if -he did not like it.</p> - -<p>Oliver Green was a very young professor, but a -very old young man. He had passed from science -as the hobby of a schoolboy to science as the ambition -of a middle-aged man without any intermediate -holiday of youth. Moreover, his monomania -had been fixed and frozen by success; at -least by a considerable success for a man of his -years. He was already a fellow of the chief learned -societies connected with his subject, when there grew -up in his mind the grand, universal, all-sufficing -Theory which had come to fill the whole of his life -as the daylight fills the day. If we attempted the -exposition of that theory here, it is doubtful whether -the result would resemble daylight. Professor -Green was always ready to prove it; but if we were -to set out the proof in this place, the next four or -five pages would be covered with closely printed -columns of figures brightened here and there by -geometrical designs, such as seldom form part of the -text of a romantic story. Suffice it to say that the -theory had something to do with Relativity and the -reversal of the relations between the stationary and -the moving object. Pierce, the aviator, who had -passed much of his time on moving objects not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -without the occasional anticipation of bumping into -stationary objects, talked to Green a little on the -subject. Being interested in scientific aviation, he -was nearer to the abstract sciences than were his -friends, Crane with his hobby of folklore or Hood -with his love of classic literature or Wilding White -with his reading of the mystics. But the young -aviator frankly admitted that Professor Green -soared high into the heavens of the Higher Mathematics, -far beyond the flight of his little aeroplane.</p> - -<p>The professor had begun, as he always began, by -saying that it was quite easy to explain; which was -doubtless true, as he was always explaining it. But -he often ended by affirming fallaciously that it was -quite easy to understand, and it would be an exaggeration -to say that it was always understood. -Anyhow, he was just about to read his great paper -on his great theory at the great Astronomical Congress -that was to be held that year at Bath; which -was one reason why he had pitched his astronomical -camp, or emplaced his astronomical gun, in the -house of Farmer Dale on the hills of Somerset. -Mr. Enoch Oates could not but feel the lingering -hesitation of the landlord when he heard that his -protégés the Dales were about to admit an unknown -stranger into their household. But Pierce sternly -reminded him that this paternal attitude was a thing -of the past and that a free peasant was free to let -lodging to a homicidal maniac if he liked. Nevertheless,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> -Pierce was rather relieved to find the maniac -was only an astronomer; but it would have been -all the same if he had been an astrologer. Before -coming to the farm, the astronomer had set up his -telescope in much dingier places—in lodgings in -Bloomsbury and the grimy buildings of a Midland -University. He thought he was, and to a great extent -he was, indifferent to his surroundings. But -for all that the air and colour of those country surroundings -were slowly and strangely sinking into -him.</p> - -<p>“The idea is simplicity itself,” he said earnestly, -when Pierce rallied him about the theory. “It is -only the proof that is, of course, a trifle technical. -Put in a very crude and popular shape, it depends -on the mathematical formula for the inversion of the -sphere.”</p> - -<p>“What we call turning the world upside-down,” -said Pierce. “I’m all in favour of it.”</p> - -<p>“Everyone knows the idea of relativity applied to -motion,” went on the professor. “When you run -out of a village in a motor-car, you might say that -the village runs away from you.”</p> - -<p>“The village does run away when Pierce is out -motoring,” remarked Crane. “Anyhow, the villagers -do. But he generally prefers to frighten -them with an aeroplane.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed?” said the astronomer with some interest. -“An aeroplane would make an even better working<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> -model. Compare the movement of an aeroplane -with what we call merely for convenience the fixity -of the fixed stars.”</p> - -<p>“I dare say they got a bit unfixed when Pierce -bumped into them,” said the Colonel.</p> - -<p>Professor Green sighed in a sad but patient spirit. -He could not help being a little disappointed even -with the most intelligent outsiders with whom he -conversed. Their remarks were pointed but hardly -to the point. He felt more and more that he -really preferred those who made no remarks. The -flowers and the trees made no remarks; they stood -in rows and allowed him to lecture to them for hours -on the fallacies of accepted astronomy. The cow -made no remarks. The girl who milked the cow -made no remarks; or, if she did, they were pleasant -and kindly remarks, not intended to be clever. He -drifted, as he had done many times before, in the -direction of the cow.</p> - -<p>The young woman who milked the cow was not in -the common connotation what is meant by milkmaid. -Margery Dale was the daughter of a substantial -farmer already respected in that county. -She had been to school and learnt various polite -things before she came back to the farm and continued -to do the thousand things that she could have -taught the schoolmasters. And something of this -proportion or disproportion of knowledge was dawning -on Professor Green, as he stood staring at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -cow and talking, often in a sort of soliloquy. For -he had a rather similar sensation of a great many -other things growing up thickly like a jungle round -his own particular being; impressions and implications -from all the girl’s easy actions and varied -avocations. Perhaps he began to have a dim suspicion -that he was the schoolmaster who was being -taught.</p> - -<p>The earth and the sky were already beginning to -be enriched with evening; the blue was already -almost a glow like apple-green behind the line of -branching apple trees; against it the bulk of the -farm stood in a darker outline, and for the first -time he realized something quaint or queer added to -that outline by his own big telescope stuck up like -a gun pointed at the moon. Somehow it looked, he -could not tell why, like the beginning of a story. -The hollyhocks also looked incredibly tall. To see -what he would have called “flowers” so tall as that -seemed like seeing a daisy or a dandelion as large -as a lamp-post. He was positive there was nothing -exactly like it in Bloomsbury. These tall flowers -also looked like the beginning of a story—the -story of Jack and the Beanstalk. Though he knew -little enough of what influences were slowly sinking -into him, he felt something apt in the last memory. -Whatever was moving within him was something -very far back, something that came before reading -and writing. He had some dream, as from a previous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> -life, of dark streaks of field under stormy clouds -of summer and the sense that the flowers to be found -there were things like gems. He was in that country -home that every cockney child feels he has always -had and never visited.</p> - -<p>“I have to read my paper to-night,” he said -abruptly. “I really ought to be thinking about it.”</p> - -<p>“I do hope it will be a success,” said the girl; “but -I rather thought you were always thinking about it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I was—generally,” he said in a rather -dazed fashion; and indeed it was probably the first -time that he had ever found himself fully conscious -of not thinking about it. Of what he was thinking -about he was by no means fully conscious.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you have to be awfully clever even -to understand it,” observed Margery Dale conversationally.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” he said, slightly stirred to the -defensive. “I’m sure I could make you see—I -don’t mean you aren’t clever, of course; I mean -I’m quite sure you’re clever enough to see—to see -anything.”</p> - -<p>“Only some sorts of things, I’m afraid,” she said, -smiling. “I’m sure your theory has got nothing to -do with cows and milking-stools.”</p> - -<p>“It’s got to do with anything,” he said eagerly; -“with everything, in fact. It would be just as easy -to prove it from stools and cows as anything else.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -It’s really quite simple. Reversing the usual mathematical -formula, it’s possible to reach the same -results in reality by treating motion as a fixed point -and stability as a form of motion. You were told -that the earth goes round the sun and the moon goes -round the earth. Well, in my formula, we first treat -it as if the sun went round the earth——”</p> - -<p>She looked up radiantly. “I always <i>thought</i> it -looked like that,” she said emphatically.</p> - -<p>“And you will, of course, see for yourself,” he -continued triumphantly, “that by the same logical -inversion we must suppose the earth to be going -round the moon.”</p> - -<p>The radiant face showed a shadow of doubt and -she said “Oh!”</p> - -<p>“But any of the things you mention, the milking-stool -or the cow or what not, would serve the same -purpose, since they are objects generally regarded -as stationary.”</p> - -<p>He looked up vaguely at the moon which was -steadily brightening as vast shadows spread over the -sky.</p> - -<p>“Well, take those things you talk of,” he went on, -moved by a meaningless unrest and tremor. “You -see the moon rise behind the woods over there and -sweep in a great curve through the sky and seem -to set again beyond the hill. But it would be just -as easy to preserve the same mathematical relations<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> -by regarding the moon as the centre of the circle -and the curve described by some such object as the -cow——”</p> - -<p>She threw her head back and looked at him, with -eyes blazing with laughter that was not in any way -mockery, but a childish delight at the crowning coincidence -of a fairy-tale.</p> - -<p>“Splendid!” she cried. “So the cow really does -jump over the moon!”</p> - -<p>Green put up his hand to his hair; and after a -short silence said suddenly, like a man recalling a -recondite Greek quotation:</p> - -<p>“Why, I’ve heard that somewhere. There was -something else—‘The little dog laughed——’”</p> - -<p>Then something happened, which was in the world -of ideas much more dramatic than the fact that -the little dog laughed. The professor of astronomy -laughed. If the world of things had corresponded -to the world of ideas, the leaves of the apple tree -might have curled up in fear or the birds dropped out -of the sky. It was rather as if the cow had laughed.</p> - -<p>Following on that curt and uncouth noise was a -silence; and then the hand he had raised to his head -abruptly rent off his big blue spectacles and showed -his staring blue eyes. He looked boyish and even -babyish.</p> - -<p>“I wondered whether you always wore them,” she -said. “I should think they made that moon of -yours look blue. Isn’t there a proverb or something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -about a thing happening once in a blue moon?”</p> - -<p>He threw the great goggles on the ground and -broke them.</p> - -<p>“Good gracious,” she exclaimed, “you seem to -have taken quite a dislike to them all of a sudden. -I thought you were going to wear them till—well, -till all is blue, as they say.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “All is beautiful,” he said. -“You are beautiful.”</p> - -<p>The young woman was normally very lucid and -decisive in dealing with gentlemen who made remarks -of that kind, especially when she concluded -that the gentlemen were not gentlemen. But for -some reason in this case it never occurred to her that -she needed defence; possibly because the other -party seemed more defenceless than indefensible. -She said nothing. But the other party said a great -deal, and his remarks did not grow more rational. -At that moment, far away in their inn-parlour in -the neighbouring town, Hood and Crane and the -fellowship of the Long Bow were actually discussing -with considerable interest the meaning and possibilities -of the new astronomical theory. In Bath the -lecture-hall was being prepared for the exposition of -the theory. The theorist had forgotten all about it.</p> - -<p>“I have been thinking a good deal,” Hilary Pierce -was saying, “about that astronomical fellow who is -going to lecture in Bath to-night. It seemed to me -somehow that he was a kindred spirit and that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> -sooner or later we were bound to get mixed up with -him—or he was bound to get mixed up with us. -I don’t say it’s always very comfortable to get mixed -up with us. I feel in my bones that there is going to -be a big row soon. I feel as if I’d consulted an -astrologer; as if Green were the Merlin of our -Round Table. Anyhow, the astrologer has an interesting -astronomical theory.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” inquired Wilding White with some surprise. -“What have you got to do with his theory?”</p> - -<p>“Because,” answered the young man, “I understand -his astronomical theory a good deal better -than he thinks I do. And, let me tell you, his -astronomical theory is an astronomical allegory.”</p> - -<p>“An allegory?” repeated Crane. “What of?”</p> - -<p>“An allegory of us,” said Pierce; “and, as with -many an allegory, we’ve acted it without knowing -it. I realized something about our history, when -he was talking, that I don’t think I’d ever thought -of before.”</p> - -<p>“What in the world are you talking about?” demanded -the Colonel.</p> - -<p>“His theory,” said Pierce in a meditative manner, -“has got something to do with moving objects being -really stationary, and stationary objects being really -moving. Well, you always talk of me as if I were a -moving object.”</p> - -<p>“Heartbreaking object sometimes,” assented the -Colonel with cordial encouragement.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>“I mean,” continued Pierce calmly, “that you talk -of me as if I were always motoring too fast or flying -too far. And what you say of me is pretty much -what most people say of you. Most sane people -think we all go a jolly lot too far. They think we’re -a lot of lunatics out-running the constable or looping -the loop, and always up to some new nonsense. -But when you come to think of it, it’s we who always -stay where we are, and the rest of the world -that’s always moving and shifting and changing.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Owen Hood; “I begin to have some -dim idea of what you are talking about.”</p> - -<p>“In all our little adventures,” went on the other, -“we have all of us taken up some definite position -and stuck to it, however difficult it might be; that -was the whole fun of it. But our critics did not -stick to their own position—not even to their own -conventional or conservative position. In each one -of the stories it was they who were fickle, and -we who were fixed. When the Colonel said he -would eat his hat, he did it; when he found it -meant wearing a preposterous hat, he wore it. But -his neighbours didn’t even stick to their own conviction -that the hat was preposterous. Fashion -is too fluctuating and sensitive a thing; and before -the end, half of them were wondering whether they -oughtn’t to have hats of the same sort. In that affair -of the Thames factory, Hood admired the old -landscape and Hunter admired the old landlords.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span> -But Hunter didn’t go on admiring the old landlords; -he deserted to the new landlords as soon as they got -the land. His conservatism was too snobbish to -conserve anything. I wanted to import pigs, and -I went on importing pigs, though my methods of -smuggling might land me to a mad-house. But -Enoch Oates, the millionaire, didn’t go on importing -pork; he went off at once on some new stunt, first -on the booming of his purses, and afterwards on the -admirable stunt of starting English farms. The -business mind isn’t steadfast; even when it can be -turned the right way, it’s too easy to turn. And -everything has been like that, down to the little -botheration about the elephant. The police began -to prosecute Mr. White, but they soon dropped it -when Hood showed them that he had some backing. -Don’t you see that’s the moral of the whole -thing? The modern world is materialistic, but it -isn’t solid. It isn’t hard or stern or ruthless in pursuit -of its purpose, or all the things that the newspapers -and novels say it is; and sometimes actually -praise it for being. Materialism isn’t like stone; -it’s like mud, and liquid mud at that.”</p> - -<p>“There’s something in what you say,” said Owen -Hood, “and I should be inclined to add something -to it. On a rough reckoning of the chances in modern -England, I should say the situation is something -like this. In that dubious and wavering -atmosphere it is very unlikely there would ever be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> -a revolution, or any very vital reform. But if there -were, I believe on my soul that it might be successful. -I believe everything else would be too weak -and wobbly to stand up against it.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose that means,” said the Colonel, “that -you’re going to do something silly.”</p> - -<p>“Silliest thing I can think of,” replied Pierce -cheerfully. “I’m going to an astronomical lecture.”</p> - -<p>The degree of silliness involved in the experiment -can be most compactly and clearly stated in the -newspaper report, at which the friends of the experimentalists -found themselves gazing with more -than their usual bewilderment on the following -morning. The Colonel, sitting at his club with his -favourite daily paper spread out before him, was -regarding with a grave wonder a paragraph that -began with the following head-lines:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center">“AMAZING SCENE AT SCIENTIFIC -CONGRESS</p> - -<p class="center">“LECTURER GOES MAD AND ESCAPES</p> - -<p>“A scene equally distressing and astonishing took -place at the third meeting of the Astronomical Society -now holding its congress at Bath. Professor -Oliver Green, one of the most promising of the -younger astronomers, was set down in the syllabus -to deliver a lecture on ‘Relativity in Relation to -Planetary Motion.’ About an hour before the lecture, -however, the authorities received a telegram<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> -from Professor Green, altering the subject of his -address on the ground that he had just discovered -a new star, and wished immediately to communicate -his discovery to the scientific world. Great -excitement and keen anticipation prevailed at the -meeting, but these feelings changed to bewilderment -as the lecture proceeded. The lecturer announced -without hesitation the existence of a new planet -attached to one of the fixed stars, but proceeded to -describe its geological formation and other features -with a fantastic exactitude beyond anything yet -obtained by way of the spectrum or the telescope. -He was understood to say that it produced life in -an extravagant form, in towering objects which constantly -doubled or divided themselves until they -ended in flat filaments, or tongues of a bright green -colour. He was proceeding to give a still more -improbable description of a more mobile but equally -monstrous form of life, resting on four trunks or -columns which swung in rotation, and terminating -in some curious curved appendages, when a young -man in the front row, whose demeanour had shown -an increasing levity, called out abruptly: ‘Why, -that’s a cow!’ To this the professor, abandoning -abruptly all pretence of scientific dignity, replied by -shouting in a voice like thunder: ‘Yes, of course -it’s a cow; and you fellows would never have noticed -a cow, even if she jumped over the moon!’ The -unfortunate professor then began to rave in the most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -incoherent manner, throwing his arms about and -shouting aloud that he and his fellow-scientists were -all a pack of noodles who had never looked at the -world they were walking on, which contained the -most miraculous things. But the latter part of his -remarks, which appeared to be an entirely irrelevant -outburst in praise of the beauty of Woman, were interrupted -by the Chairman and the officials of the -Congress, who called for medical and constabulary -interference. No less a person than Sir Horace -Hunter, who, although best known as a psycho-physiologist, -has taken all knowledge for his -province and was present to show his interest in -astronomical progress, was able to certify on the -spot that the unfortunate Green was clearly suffering -from dementia, which was immediately -corroborated by a local doctor, so that the unhappy -man might be removed without further scandal.</p> - -<p>“At this point, however, a still more extraordinary -development took place. The young man in the -front row, who had several times interrupted the -proceedings with irrelevant remarks, sprang to his -feet, and loudly declaring that Professor Green was -the only sane man in the Congress, rushed at the -group surrounding him, violently hurled Sir Horace -Hunter from the platform, and with the assistance -of a friend and fellow-rioter, managed to recapture -the lunatic from the doctors and the police, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> -carry him outside the building. Those pursuing the -fugitives found themselves at first confronted with a -new mystery, in the form of their complete disappearance. -It has since been discovered that they -actually escaped by aeroplane; the young man, -whose name is said to be Pierce, being a well-known -aviator formerly connected with the Flying Corps. -The other young man, who assisted him and acted -as pilot, has not yet been identified.”</p> -</div> - -<p>Night closed and the stars stood out over Dale’s -Farm; and the telescope pointed at the stars in vain. -Its giant lenses had vainly mirrored the moon of -which its owner had spoken in so vain a fashion; -but its owner did not return. Miss Dale was rather -unaccountably troubled by his absence, and mentioned -it once or twice; after all, as her family -said, it was very natural that he should go to an -hotel in Bath for the night, especially if the revels -of roystering astronomers were long and late. “It’s -no affair of ours,” said the farmer’s wife cheerfully. -“He is not a child.” But the farmer’s daughter was -not quite so sure on the point.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Next morning she rose even earlier than usual -and went about her ordinary tasks, which by some -accident or other seemed to look more ordinary than -usual. In the blank morning hours, it was perhaps -natural that her mind should go back to the previous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> -afternoon, when the conduct of the astronomer could -by no means be dismissed as ordinary.</p> - -<p>“It’s all very well to say he’s not a child,” she -said to herself. “I wish I were as certain he’s not -an idiot. If he goes to an hotel, they’ll cheat him.”</p> - -<p>The more angular and prosaic her own surroundings -seemed in the daylight, the more doubt she felt -about the probable fate of the moonstruck gentleman -who looked at a blue moon through his blue spectacles. -She wondered whether his family or his -friends were generally responsible for his movements; -for really he must be a little dotty. She -had never heard him talk about his family; and she -remembered a good many things he had talked about. -She had never even seen him talking to a friend, -except once to Captain Pierce, when they talked -about astronomy. But the name of Captain Pierce -linked itself up rapidly with other and more relevant -suggestions. Captain Pierce lived at the Blue Boar -on the other side of the down, having been married -a year or two before to the daughter of the innkeeper, -who was an old friend of the daughter of the -farmer. They had been to the same school in the -neighbouring provincial town, and had once been, -as the phrase goes, inseparable. Perhaps friends -ought to pass through the phase in which they are -inseparable to reach the phase in which they can -safely be separated.</p> - -<p>“Joan might know something about it,” she said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -to herself. “At least her husband might know.”</p> - -<p>She turned back into the kitchen and began to -rout things out for breakfast; when she had done -everything she could think of doing for a family -that had not yet put in an appearance, she went out -again into the garden and found herself at the same -gate, staring at the steep wooded hill that lay between -the farm and the valley of the Blue Boar. -She thought of harnessing the pony; and then went -walking rather restlessly along the road over the -hill.</p> - -<p>On the map it was only a few miles to the Blue -Boar; and she was easily capable of walking ten -times the distance. But maps, like many other -scientific documents, are very inaccurate. The -ridge that ran between the two valleys was, relatively -to that rolling plain, as definite as a range of -mountains. The path through the dark wood that -lay just beyond the farm began like a lane and then -seemed to go up like a ladder. By the time she -had scaled it, under its continuous canopy of low -spreading trees, she had the sensation of having -walked for a long time. And when the ascent ended -with a gap in the trees and a blank space of sky, -she looked over the edge like one looking into -another world.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Mr. Enoch Oates, in his more expansive moments, -had been known to allude to what he called God’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -Great Prairies. Mr. Rosenbaum Low, having come -to London from, or through, Johannesburg, often -referred in his imperialistic speeches to the “illimitable -veldt.” But neither the American prairie -nor the African veldt really looks any larger, or -could look any larger, than a wide English vale seen -from a low English hill. Nothing can be more -distant than the distance; the horizon or the line -drawn by heaven across the vision of man. Nothing -is so illimitable as that limit. Within our narrow -island there is a whole series of such infinities; as if -the island itself could contain seven seas. As she -looked out over that new landscape, the soul seemed -to be slaked and satisfied with immensity and, by -a paradox, to be filled at last with emptiness. All -things seemed not only great but growing in greatness. -She could fancy that the tall trees standing -up in the sunlight grew taller while she looked at -them. The sun was rising and it seemed as if the -whole world rose with it. Even the dome of heaven -seemed to be lifting slowly; as if the very sky were a -skirt drawn up and disappearing into the altitudes -of light.</p> - -<p>The vast hollow below her was coloured as variously -as a map in an atlas. Fields of grass or -grain or red earth seemed so far away that they -might have been the empires and kingdoms of a -world newly created. But she could already see on -the brow of a hill above the pine-woods the pale scar<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> -of the quarry and below it the glittering twist in the -river where stood the inn of the Blue Boar. As -she drew nearer and nearer to it she could see more -and more clearly a green triangular field with tiny -black dots, which were little black pigs; and another -smaller dot, which was a child. Something like a -wind behind her or within her, that had driven her -over the hills, seemed to sweep all the long lines of -that landslide of a landscape, so that they pointed -to that spot.</p> - -<p>As the path dropped to the level and she began -to walk by farms and villages, the storm in her mind -began to settle and she recovered the reasonable -prudence with which she had pottered about her -own farm. She even felt some responsibility and -embarrassment about troubling her friend by coming -on so vague an errand. But she told herself convincingly -enough that after all she was justified. -One would not normally be alarmed about a strayed -lodger as if he were a lion escaped from a menagerie. -But she had after all very good reason for regarding -this lion as rather a fearful wildfowl. His way -of talking had been so eccentric that everybody -for miles round would have agreed, if they had heard -him, that he had a tile loose. She was very glad -they had not heard him; but their imaginary opinion -fortified her own. They had a duty in common -humanity; they could not let a poor gentleman of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -doubtful sanity disappear without further inquiry.</p> - -<p>She entered the inn with a firm step and hailed -her friend with something of that hearty cheerfulness -that is so unpopular in the early riser. She was -rather younger and by nature rather more exuberant -than Joan; and Joan had already felt the drag and -concentration of children. But Joan had not lost -her rather steely sense of humour, and she heard -the main facts of her friend’s difficulty with a -vigilant smile.</p> - -<p>“We should rather like to know what has happened,” -said the visitor with vague carelessness. -“If anything unpleasant had happened, people might -even blame us, when we knew he was like that.”</p> - -<p>“Like what?” asked Joan smiling.</p> - -<p>“Why, a bit off, I suppose we must say,” answered -the other. “The things he said to me about cows -and trees and having found a new star were -really——”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s rather lucky you came to me,” said -Joan quietly. “For I don’t believe you’d have found -anybody else on the face of the earth who knows -exactly where he is now.”</p> - -<p>“And where is he?”</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s not on the face of the earth,” said -Joan Hardy.</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean he’s—dead?” asked the other -in an unnatural voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>“I mean he’s up in the air,” said Joan, “or, what -is often much the same thing, he is with my husband. -Hilary rescued him when they were just going to -nab him, and carried him off in an aeroplane. He -says they’d better hide in the clouds for a bit. You -know the way he talks; of course, they do come -down every now and then when it’s safe.”</p> - -<p>“Escaped! Nabbed him! Safe!” ejaculated the -other young woman with round eyes. “What in the -world does it all mean?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” replied her friend, “he seems to have said -the same sort of things that he said to you to a whole -roomful of scientific men at Bath. And, of course, -the scientific men all said he was mad; I suppose -that’s what scientific men are for. So they were -just going to take him away to an asylum, when -Hilary——”</p> - -<p>The farmer’s daughter rose in a glory of rage -that might have seemed to lift the roof, as the great -sunrise had seemed to lift the sky.</p> - -<p>“Take him away!” she cried. “How dare they -talk about such things? How dare they say he is -mad? It’s they who must be mad to say such -stuff! Why, he’s got more brains in his boots than -they have in all their silly old bald heads knocked -together—and I’d like to knock ’em together! -Why, they’d all smash like egg-shells, and he’s got -a head like cast-iron. Don’t you know he’s beaten -all the old duffers at their own business, of stars and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> -things? I expect they’re all jealous; it’s just what -I should have expected of them.”</p> - -<p>The fact that she was entirely unacquainted with -the names, and possibly the existence, of these -natural philosophers did not arrest the vigorous -word-painting with which she completed their portraits. -“Nasty spiteful old men with whiskers,” -she said, “all bunched together like so many spiders -and weaving dirty cobwebs to catch their betters; -of course, it’s all a conspiracy. Just because they’re -all mad and hate anybody who’s quite sane.”</p> - -<p>“So you think he’s quite sane?” asked her hostess -gravely.</p> - -<p>“Sane? What do you mean? Of course he’s -quite sane,” retorted Margery Dale.</p> - -<p>With a mountainous magnanimity Joan was silent. -Then after a pause she said:</p> - -<p>“Well, Hilary has taken his case in hand and -your friend’s safe for the present; Hilary generally -brings things off, however queer they sound. And -I don’t mind telling you in confidence that he’s -bringing that and a good many other things off, -rather big things, just now. You can’t keep him -from fighting whatever you do; and he seems to be -out just now to fight everybody. So I shouldn’t -wonder if you saw all your old gentleman’s heads -knocked together after all. There are rather big -preparations going on; that friend of his named -Blair is for ever going and coming with his balloons<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> -and things; and I believe something will happen -soon on a pretty large scale, perhaps all over -England.”</p> - -<p>“Will it?” asked Miss Dale in an absent-minded -manner (for she was sadly deficient in civic and -political sense). “Is that your Tommy out there?”</p> - -<p>And they talked about the child and then about -a hundred entirely trivial things; for they understood -each other perfectly.</p> - -<p>And if there are still things the reader fails to -understand, if (as seems almost incredible) there -are things that he wishes to understand, then it can -only be at the heavy price of studying the story of -the Unprecedented Architecture of Commander -Blair; and with that, it is comforting to know, the -story of all these things will be drawing near its -explanation and its end.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">VII<br> - -THE UNPRECEDENTED ARCHITECTURE<br> -OF COMMANDER BLAIR</h2> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span></p> - -<p class="ph1">VII<br> - -THE UNPRECEDENTED ARCHITECTURE<br> -OF COMMANDER BLAIR</p> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE Earl of Eden had become Prime Minister -for the third time, and his face and figure -were therefore familiar in the political -cartoons and even in the public streets. His yellow -hair and lean and springy figure gave him a factitious -air of youth; but his face on a closer study -looked lined and wrinkled and gave almost a shock -of decrepitude. He was in truth a man of great experience -and dexterity in his own profession. He -had just succeeded in routing the Socialist Party -and overthrowing the Socialist Government, largely -by the use of certain rhymed mottoes and maxims -which he had himself invented with considerable -amusement. His great slogan of “Don’t Nationalize -but Rationalize” was generally believed to have -led him to victory. But at the moment when this -story begins he had other things to think of. He -had just received an urgent request for a consultation -from three of his most prominent supporters—Lord -Normantowers, Sir Horace Hunter, O.B.E., -the great advocate of scientific politics, and Mr. R. -Low, the philanthropist. They were confronted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> -with a problem, and their problem concerned the -sudden madness of an American millionaire.</p> - -<p>The Prime Minister was not unacquainted with -American millionaires, even those whose conduct -suggested that they were hardly representative of a -normal or national type. There was the great -Grigg, the millionaire inventor, who had pressed -upon the War Office a scheme for finishing the War -at a blow; it consisted of electrocuting the Kaiser -by wireless telegraphy. There was Mr. Napper, of -Nebraska, whose negotiations for removing Shakespeare’s -Cliff to America as a symbol of Anglo-Saxon -unity were unaccountably frustrated by the -firm refusal of the American Republic to send us -Plymouth Rock in exchange. And there was that -charming and cultured Bostonian, Colonel Hoopoe, -whom all England welcomed in his crusade for Purity -and the League of the Lily, until England discovered -with considerable surprise that the American -Ambassador and all respectable Americans -flatly refused to meet the Colonel, whose record at -home was that of a very narrow escape from Sing-Sing.</p> - -<p>But the problem of Enoch Oates, who had made -his money in pork, was something profoundly different. -As Lord Eden’s three supporters eagerly explained -to him, seated round a garden-table at his -beautiful country seat in Somerset, Mr. Oates had -done something that the maddest millionaire had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> -never thought of doing before. Up to a certain -point he had proceeded in a manner normal to such -a foreigner. He had purchased amid general approval -an estate covering about a quarter of a -county; and it was expected that he would make it -a field for some of those American experiments in -temperance or eugenics for which the English agricultural -populace offer a sort of virgin soil. Instead -of that, he suddenly went mad and made a present of -his land to his tenants; so that by an unprecedented -anomaly the farms became the property of the -farmers. That an American millionaire should take -away English things from England, English rents, -English relics, English pictures, English cathedrals -or cliffs of Dover, was a natural operation to which -everybody was by this time accustomed. But that -an American millionaire should give English land to -English people was an unwarrantable interference -and tantamount to an alien enemy stirring up revolution. -Enoch Oates had therefore been summoned -to the Council, and sat scowling at the table as if -he were in the dock.</p> - -<p>“Results most deplorable already,” said Sir Horace -Hunter, in his rather loud voice. “Give you an -example, my lord; people of the name of Dale in -Somerset took in a lunatic as a lodger. May have -been a homicidal maniac for all I know; some do -say he had a great cannon or culverin sticking out -of his bedroom window. But with no responsible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> -management of the estate, no landlord, no lawyer, -no educated person anywhere, there was nothing to -prevent their letting the bedroom to a Bengal tiger. -Anyhow, the man was mad, rushed raving on to the -platform at the Astronomical Congress talking about -Lovely Woman and the cow that jumped over the -moon. That damned agitator Pierce, who used to -be in the Flying Corps, was in the hall, and made a -riot and carried the crazy fellow off in an aeroplane. -That’s the sort of thing you’ll have happening all -over the place if these ignorant fellows are allowed -to do just as they like.”</p> - -<p>“It is quite true,” said Lord Normantowers. “I -could give many other examples. They say that -Owen Hood, another of these eccentrics, has actually -bought one of these little farms and stuck it -all round with absurd battlements and a moat and -drawbridge, with the motto ‘The Englishman’s -House is his Castle.’”</p> - -<p>“I think,” said the Prime Minister quietly, “that -however English the Englishman may be, he will -find his castle is a castle in Spain; not to say a -castle in the air. Mr. Oates,” he said, addressing -very courteously the big brooding American at the -other end of the table, “please do not imagine that -I cannot sympathize with such romances, although -they are only in the air. But I think in all sincerity -that you will find they are unsuited to the -English climate. <i>Et ego in Arcadia</i>, you know;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span> -we have all had such dreams of all men piping in -Arcady. But after all, you have already paid the -piper; and if you are wise, I think you can still -call the tune.”</p> - -<p>“Gives me great gratification to say it’s too late,” -growled Oates. “I want them to learn to play and -pay for themselves.”</p> - -<p>“But you want them to learn,” said Lord Eden -gently, “and I should not be in too much of a hurry -to call it too late. It seems to me that the door -is still open for a reasonable compromise; I understand -that the deed of gift, considered as a legal -instrument, is still the subject of some legal discussion -and may well be subject to revision. I happened -to be talking of it yesterday with the law -officers of the Crown; and I am sure that the least -hint that you yourself——”</p> - -<p>“I take it you mean,” said Mr. Oates with great -deliberation, “that you’ll tell your lawyers it’ll pay -them to pick a hole in the deal.”</p> - -<p>“That is what we call the bluff Western humour,” -said Lord Eden, smiling, “but I only mean that we -do a great deal in this country by reconsideration -and revision. We make mistakes and unmake them. -We have a phrase for it in our history books; we -call it the flexibility of an unwritten constitution.”</p> - -<p>“We have a phrase for it too,” said the American -reflectively. “We call it graft.”</p> - -<p>“Really,” cried Normantowers, a little bristly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span> -man, with sudden shrillness, “I did not know you -were so scrupulous in your own methods.”</p> - -<p>“Motht unthcrupulouth,” said Mr. Low virtuously.</p> - -<p>Enoch Oates rose slowly like an enormous -leviathan rising to the surface of the sea; his large -sallow face had never changed in expression; but he -had the air of one drifting dreamily away.</p> - -<p>“Wal,” he said, “I dare say it’s true I’ve done -some graft in my time, and a good many deals that -weren’t what you might call modelled on the Sermon -on the Mount. But if I smashed people, it -was when they were all out to smash me; and if -some of ’em were poor, they were the sort that -were ready to shoot or knife or blow me to bits. -And I tell you, in my country the whole lot of you -would be liable to be lynched or tarred and -feathered to-morrow, if you talked about lawyers -taking away people’s land when once they’d got it. -Maybe the English climate’s different, as you say; -but I’m going to see it through. As for you, Mr. -Rosenbaum——”</p> - -<p>“My name is Low,” said the philanthropist. -“I cannot thee why anyone should object to uthing -my name.”</p> - -<p>“Not on your life,” said Mr. Oates affably. -“Seems to me a pretty appropriate name.”</p> - -<p>He drifted heavily from the room, and the four -other men were left, staring at a riddle.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>“He’s going on with it, or, rather, they’re going -on with it,” groaned Horace Hunter. “And what -the devil is to be done now?”</p> - -<p>“It really looks as if he were right in calling it -too late,” said Lord Normantowers bitterly. “I -can’t think of anything to be done.”</p> - -<p>“I can,” said the Prime Minister. They all -looked at him; but none of them could read the -undecipherable subtleties in his old and wrinkled -face under his youthful yellow hair.</p> - -<p>“The resources of civilization are not exhausted,” -he said grimly. “That’s what the old governments -used to say when they started shooting people. -Well, I could understand you gentlemen feeling inclined -to shoot people now. I suppose it seems to -you that all your power in the State, which you -wield with such public spirit of course; all Sir -Horace’s health reforms, the Normantowers’s new -estate, and so on, are all broken to bits, to rotten -little bits of rusticity. What’s to become of a -governing class if it doesn’t hold all the land, eh? -Well, I’ll tell you. I know the next move, and the -time has come to take it.”</p> - -<p>“But what is it?” demanded Sir Horace.</p> - -<p>“The time has come,” said the Prime Minister, -“to Nationalize the Land.”</p> - -<p>Sir Horace Hunter rose from his chair, opened -his mouth, shut it, and sat down again, all with -what he himself might have called a reflex action.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>“But that is Socialism!” cried Lord Normantowers, -his eyes standing out of his head.</p> - -<p>“True Socialism, don’t you think?” mused the -Prime Minister. “Better call it True Socialism; -just the sort of thing to be remembered at elections. -Theirs is Socialism, and ours is True Socialism.”</p> - -<p>“Do you really mean, my lord,” cried Hunter in -a heat of sincerity stronger than the snobbery of a -lifetime, “that you are going to support the -Bolshies?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Eden, with the smile of a sphinx. -“I mean the Bolshies are going to support me. -Idiots!”</p> - -<p>After a silence, he added in a more wistful tone:</p> - -<p>“Of course, as a matter of sentiment, it is a little -sad. All our fine old English castles and manors, -the homes of the gentry ... they will become -public property, like post offices, I suppose. When -I think of the happy hours I have myself passed at -Normantowers—” He smiled across at the nobleman -of that name and went on. “And Sir Horace -has now, I believe, the joy of living in Warbridge -Castle—fine old place. Dear me, yes, and I think -Mr. Low has a castle, though the name escapes -me.”</p> - -<p>“Rosewood Castle,” said Mr. Low rather sulkily.</p> - -<p>“But I say,” cried Sir Horace, rising, “what becomes -of ‘Don’t Nationalize but Rationalize’?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose,” replied Eden lightly, “it will have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> -to be ‘Don’t Rationalize but Nationalize.’ It -comes to the same thing. Besides, we can easily -get a new motto of some sort. For instance, we, -after all, are the patriotic party, the national party. -What about ‘Let the Nationalists Nationalize’?”</p> - -<p>“Well, all I can say is—” began Normantowers -explosively.</p> - -<p>“Compensation, there will be compensation, of -course,” said the Prime Minister soothingly; “a -great deal can be done with compensation. If you -will all turn up here this day week, say at four -o’clock, I think I can lay all the plans before you.”</p> - -<p>When they did turn up next week and were shown -again into the Prime Minister’s sunny garden, they -found that the plans were, indeed, laid before them; -for the table that stood on the sunny lawn was -covered with large and small maps and a mass of -official documents. Mr. Eustace Pym, one of the -Prime Minister’s numerous private secretaries, was -hovering over them, and the Prime Minister himself -was sitting at the head of the table studying one -of them with an intelligent frown.</p> - -<p>“I thought you’d like to hear the terms of the -arrangements,” he said. “I’m afraid we must all -make sacrifices in the cause of progress.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, progress be——” cried Normantowers, losing -patience. “I want to know if you really mean -that my estate——”</p> - -<p>“It comes under the department of Castle and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span> -Abbey Estates in Section Four,” said Lord Eden, -referring to the paper before him. “By the provisions -of the new Bill the public control in such -cases will be vested in the Lord-Lieutenant of the -County. In the particular case of your castle—let -me see—why, yes, of course, you are Lord-Lieutenant -of that county.”</p> - -<p>Little Lord Normantowers was staring, with his -stiff hair all standing on end; but a new look was -dawning in his shrewd though small-featured -face.</p> - -<p>“The case of Warbridge Castle is different,” said -the Prime Minister. “It happens unfortunately to -stand in a district desolated by all the recent -troubles about swine-fever, touching which the -Health Controller” (here he bowed to Sir Horace -Hunter) “has shown such admirable activity. It -has been necessary to place the whole of this district -in the hands of the Health Controller, that -he may study any traces of swine-fever that may be -found in the Castle, the Cathedral, the Vicarage, -and so on. So much for that case, which stands -somewhat apart; the others are mostly normal. -Rosenbaum Castle—I should say Rosewood Castle—being -of a later date, comes under Section Five, -and the appointment of a permanent Castle Custodian -is left to the discretion of the Government. -In this case the Government has decided to appoint<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span> -Mr. Rosewood Low to the post, in recognition of -his local services to social science and economics. -In all these cases, of course, due compensation -will be paid to the present owners of the estates, -and ample salaries and expenses of entertainment -paid to the new officials, that the places may be -kept up in a manner worthy of their historical and -national character.”</p> - -<p>He paused, as if for cheers, and Sir Horace was -vaguely irritated into saying: “But look here, my -castle——”</p> - -<p>“Damn it all!” said the Prime Minister, with his -first flash of impatience and sincerity. “Can’t you -see you’ll get twice as much as before? First you’ll -be compensated for losing your castle, and then -you’ll be paid for keeping it.”</p> - -<p>“My lord,” said Lord Normantowers humbly, “I -apologize for anything I may have said or suggested. -I ought to have known I stood in the -presence of a great English statesman.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s easy enough,” said Lord Eden frankly. -“Look how easily we remained in the saddle, in -spite of democratic elections; how we managed to -dominate the Commons as well as the Lords. It’ll -be the same with what they call Socialism. We -shall still be there; only we shall be called bureaucrats -instead of aristocrats.”</p> - -<p>“I see it all now!” cried Hunter, “and by Heaven,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span> -it’ll be the end of all this confounded demagogy of -Three Acres and a Cow.”</p> - -<p>“I think so,” said the Prime Minister with a -smile; and began to fold up the large maps.</p> - -<p>As he was folding up the last and largest, he suddenly -stopped and said:</p> - -<p>“Hallo!”</p> - -<p>A letter was lying in the middle of the table; a -letter in a sealed envelope, and one which he evidently -did not recognize as any part of his paper -paraphernalia.</p> - -<p>“Where did this letter come from?” he asked -rather sharply. “Did you put it here, Eustace?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Mr. Pym staring. “I never saw it -before. It didn’t come with your letters this morning.”</p> - -<p>“It didn’t come by post at all,” said Lord Eden; -“and none of the servants brought it in. How the -devil did it get out here in the garden?”</p> - -<p>He ripped it open with his finger and remained -for some time staring in mystification at its contents.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Welkin Castle</span>,    <br> -Sept. 4th, 19—.</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Lord Eden</span>,—As I understand you are -making public provision for the future disposal -of our historic national castles, such as Warbridge -Castle, I should much appreciate any information -about your intentions touching Welkin<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span> -Castle, my own estate, as it would enable me to -make my own arrangements.—Yours very truly,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Welkyn of Welkin</span>.”</p> -</div> - -<p>“Who is Welkyn?” asked the puzzled politician; -“he writes as if he knew me; but I can’t recall -him at the moment. And where is Welkin Castle? -We must look at the maps again.”</p> - -<p>But though they looked at the maps for hours, -and searched Burke, Debrett, “Who’s Who,” the -atlas and every other work of reference, they could -come upon no trace of that firm but polite country -gentleman.</p> - -<p>Lord Eden was a little worried, because he knew -that curiously important people could exist in a -corner in this country, and suddenly emerge from -their corner to make trouble. He knew it was very -important that his own governing class should stand -in with him in this great public change (and private -understanding), and that no rich eccentric should -be left out and offended. But although he was -worried to that extent, it is probable that his worry -would soon have faded from his mind if it had not -been for something that happened some days later.</p> - -<p>Going out into the same garden to the same table, -with the more agreeable purpose of taking tea there, -he was amazed to find another letter, though this -was lying not on the table but on the turf just beside -it. It was unstamped like the other and addressed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span> -in the same handwriting; but its tone was -more stern.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Welkin Castle</span>,    <br> -Oct. 6th, 19—.</p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">My Lord</span>,—As you seem to have decided to -continue your sweeping scheme of confiscation, -as in the case of Warbridge Castle, without the -slightest reference to the historic and even heroic -claims and traditions of Welkin Castle, I can only -inform you that I shall defend the fortress of my -fathers to the death. Moreover, I have decided -to make a protest of a more public kind; and -when you next hear from me it will be in the form -of a general appeal to the justice of the English -people.—Yours truly,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Welkyn of Welkin</span>.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The historic and even heroic traditions of Welkin -Castle kept a dozen of the Prime Minister’s -private secretaries busy for a week, looking up encyclopædias -and chronicles and books of history. -But the Prime Minister himself was more worried -about another problem. How did these mysterious -letters get into the house, or rather into the garden? -None of them came by post and none of the servants -knew anything whatever about them. Moreover, -the Prime Minister, in an unobtrusive way, -was very carefully guarded. Prime Ministers always<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span> -are, but he had been especially protected ever -since the Vegetarians a few years before had gone -about killing everybody who believed in killing -animals. There were always plain-clothes policemen -at every entrance of his house and garden. -And from their testimony it would appear certain -that the letter could not have got into the garden; -but for the trifling fact that it was lying there on -the garden-table. Lord Eden cogitated in a grim -fashion for some time; then he said as he rose from -his chair:</p> - -<p>“I think I will have a talk to our American -friend Mr. Oates.”</p> - -<p>Whether from a sense of humour or a sense of -justice, Lord Eden summoned Enoch Oates before -the same special jury of three; or summoned them -before him, as the case may be. For it was even -more difficult than before to read the exact secret -of Eden’s sympathies or intentions; he talked about -a variety of indifferent subjects leading up to that -of the letters, which he treated very lightly. Then -he said quite suddenly:</p> - -<p>“Do you know anything about those letters, by -the way?”</p> - -<p>The American presented his poker face to the -company for some time without reply. Then he -said:</p> - -<p>“And what makes you think I know anything -about them?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>“Because,” said Horace Hunter, breaking in with -uncontrollable warmth, “we know you’re hand and -glove with all those lunatics in the League of the -Long Bow who are kicking up all this shindy.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Oates calmly, “I’ll never deny I like -some of their ways. I like live wires myself; and, -after all, they’re about the liveliest thing in this old -country. And I’ll tell you more. I like people -who take trouble; and, believe me, they do take -trouble. You say they’re all nuts; but I reckon -there really is method in their madness. They take -trouble to keep those crazy vows of theirs. You -spoke about the fellows who carried off the astronomer -in an aeroplane. Well, I know Bellew Blair, -the man who worked with Pierce in that stunt, and -believe me he’s not a man to be sniffed at. He’s -one of the first experts in aeronautics in the country; -and if he’s gone over to them, it means there’s -something in their notion for a scientific intellect -to take hold of. It was Blair that worked that pig’s -stunt for Hilary Pierce; made a great gasbag -shaped like a sow and gave all the little pigs parachutes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there you are,” cried Hunter. “Of all -the lunacy——”</p> - -<p>“I remember Commander Blair in the War,” -said the Prime Minister quietly. “Bellows Blair, -they called him. He did excellent expert work. -Some new scheme with dirigible balloons. But I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span> -was only going to ask Mr. Oates whether he happens -to know where Welkin Castle is.”</p> - -<p>“Must be somewhere near here,” suggested Normantowers, -“as the letters seem to come by hand.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know,” said Enoch Oates doubtfully. -“I know a man living in Ely, who had one -of those letters delivered by hand. And I know -another near Land’s End who thought the letter -must have come from somebody living near. As -you say, they all seem to come by hand.”</p> - -<p>“By what hand?” asked the Prime Minister, with -a queer, grim expression.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Oates,” said Lord Normantowers firmly, -“where <i>is</i> Welkin Castle?”</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s everywhere, in a manner of speaking,” -said Mr. Oates reflectively. “It’s anywhere, anyhow. -Gee—!” he broke off suddenly: “Why, as -a matter of fact, it’s here!”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” said the Prime Minister quietly, “I thought -we should see something if we watched here long -enough! You didn’t think I kept you hanging -about here only to ask Mr. Oates questions that I -knew the answer to.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean? Thought we would see -what?”</p> - -<p>“Where the unstamped letters come from,” replied -Lord Eden.</p> - -<p>Luminous and enormous, there heaved up above -the garden trees something that looked at first like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> -a coloured cloud; it was flushed with light such as -lies on clouds opposite the sunset, a light at once -warm and wan; and it shone like an opaque flame. -But as it came closer it grew more and more incredible. -It took on solid proportions and perspective, -as if a cloud could brush and crush the -dark tree-tops. It was something never seen before -in the sky; it was a cubist cloud. Men gazing -at such a sunset cloudland often imagine they see -castles and cities of an almost uncanny completeness. -But there would be a possible point of completeness -at which they would cry aloud, or perhaps -shriek aloud, as at a sign in heaven; and that completeness -had come. The big luminous object that -sailed above the garden was outlined in battlements -and turrets like a fairy castle; but with an architectural -exactitude impossible in any cloudland. With -the very look of it a phrase and a proverb leapt into -the mind.</p> - -<p>“There, my lord!” cried Oates, suddenly lifting -his nasal and drawling voice and pointing, “there’s -that dream you told me about. There’s your castle -in the air.”</p> - -<p>As the shadow of the flying thing travelled over -the sun-lit lawn, they looked up and saw for the -first time that the lower part of the edifice hung -downwards like the car of a great balloon. They -remembered the aeronautical tricks of Commander<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span> -Blair and Captain Pierce and the model of the -monstrous pig. As it passed over the table a white -speck detached itself and dropped from the car. It -was a letter.</p> - -<p>The next moment the white speck was followed -by a shower that was like a snowstorm. Countless -letters, leaflets, and scraps of paper were littered -all over the lawn. The guests seemed to stand -staring wildly in a wilderness of waste-paper; but -the keen and experienced eyes of Lord Eden recognized -the material which, in political elections, is -somewhat satirically called “literature.”</p> - -<p>It took the twelve private secretaries some time -to pick them all up and make the lawn neat and tidy -again. On examination they proved to be mainly -of two kinds: one a sort of electioneering pamphlet -of the League of the Long Bow, and the other a -somewhat airy fantasy about private property in -air. The most important of the documents, which -Lord Eden studied more attentively, though with -a grim smile, began with the sentence in large -letters:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“An Englishman’s House Is No Longer His -Castle On The Soil Of England. If It Is To Be -His Castle, It Must Be A Castle In The Air.</p> - -<p>“If There Seem To Be Something Unfamiliar -And Even Fanciful In The Idea, We Reply That<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span> -It Is Not Half So Fantastic To Own Your Own -Houses In The Clouds As Not To Own Your Own -Houses On The Earth.”</p> -</div> - -<p>Then followed a passage of somewhat less solid -political value, in which the acute reader might -trace the influence of the poetical Mr. Pierce rather -than the scientific Mr. Blair. It began “They Have -Stolen the Earth; We Will Divide the Sky.” But -the writer followed this with a somewhat unconvincing -claim to have trained rooks and swallows to -hover in rows in the air to represent the hedges of -“The blue meadows of the new realm,” and he was -so obliging as to accompany the explanation with -diagrams of space showing these exact ornithological -boundaries in dotted lines. There were other -equally scientific documents dealing with the treatment -of clouds, the driving of birds to graze on -insects, and so on. The whole of this section -concluded with the great social and economic slogan: -“Three Acres and a Crow.”</p> - -<p>But when Lord Eden read on, his attention appeared -graver than this particular sort of social reconstruction -would seem to warrant. The writer of -the pamphlet resumed:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Do not be surprised if there seems to be something -topsy-turvy in the above programme. That -topsy-turvydom marks the whole of our politics.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span> -It may seem strange that the air which has always -been public should become private, when the land -which has always been private has become public. -We answer that this is exactly how things really -stand to-day in the matter of all publicity and privacy. -Private things are indeed being made public. -But public things are being kept private.</p> - -<p>“Thus we all had the pleasure of seeing in the -papers a picture of Sir Horace Hunter, O.B.E., smiling -in an ingratiating manner at his favourite cockatoo. -We know this detail of his existence, which -might seem a merely domestic one. But the fact -that he is shortly to be paid thirty thousand pounds -of public money, for continuing to live in his own -house, is concealed with the utmost delicacy.</p> - -<p>“Similarly we have seen whole pages of an illustrated -paper filled with glimpses of Lord Normantowers -enjoying his honeymoon, which the papers in -question are careful to describe as his Romance. -Whatever it may be, an antiquated and fastidious -taste might possibly be disposed to regard it as his -own affair. But the fact that the taxpayer’s money, -which is the taxpayer’s affair, is to be given him in -enormous quantities, first for going out of his castle, -and then for coming back into it—this little domestic -detail is thought too trivial for the taxpayer to be -told of it.</p> - -<p>“Or again, we are frequently informed that the -hobby of Mr. Rosenbaum Low is improving the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span> -breed of Pekinese, and God knows they need it. -But it would seem the sort of hobby that anybody -might have without telling everybody else about it. -On the other hand, the fact that Mr. Rosenbaum -Low is being paid twice over for the same house, -and keeping the house as well, is concealed from the -public; along with the equally interesting fact that -he is allowed to do these things chiefly because he -lends money to the Prime Minister.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The Prime Minister smiled still more grimly and -glanced in a light yet lingering fashion at some of -the accompanying leaflets. They seemed to be in -the form of electioneering leaflets, though not apparently -connected with any particular election.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Vote for Crane. He Said He would Eat His Hat -and Did It. Lord Normantowers said he would explain -how people came to swallow his coronet; but -he hasn’t done it yet.</p> - -<p>“Vote for Pierce. He Said Pigs Would Fly And -They Did. Rosenbaum Low said a service of international -aërial express trains would fly; and they -didn’t. It was your money he made to fly.</p> - -<p>“Vote for the League of the Long Bow. They -Are The Only Men Who Don’t Tell Lies.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The Prime Minister stood gazing after the vanishing -cloud-castle, as it faded into the clouds, with a -curious expression in his eyes. Whether it were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span> -better or worse for his soul, there was something in -him that understood much that the muddled materialists -around him could never understand.</p> - -<p>“Quite poetical, isn’t it?” he said drily. “Wasn’t -it Victor Hugo or some French poet who said something -about politics and the clouds?... The -people say, ‘Bah, the poet is in the clouds. So is the -thunderbolt.’”</p> - -<p>“Thunderbolts!” said Normantowers contemptuously. -“What can those fools do but go about -flinging fireworks?”</p> - -<p>“Quite so,” replied Eden; “but I’m afraid by this -time they are flinging fireworks into a powder -magazine.”</p> - -<p>He continued to gaze into the sky with screwed-up -eyes, though the object had become invisible.</p> - -<p>If his eye could really have followed the thing after -which he gazed, he would have been surprised; if -his unfathomable scepticism was still capable of -surprise. It passed over woods and meadows like -a sunset cloud towards the sunset, or a little to the -north-west of it, like the fairy castle that was west -of the moon. It left behind the green orchards and -the red towers of Hereford and passed into bare -places whose towers are mightier than any made by -man, where they buttress the mighty wall of Wales. -Far away in this wilderness of columned cliffs and -clefts it found a cleft or hollow, along the floor of -which ran a dark line that might have been a black<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span> -river running through a rocky valley. But it was in -fact a crack opening below into another abyss. The -strange flying ship followed the course of the winding -fissure till it came to a place where the crack -opened into a chasm, round like a cauldron and accidental -as the knot in some colossal tree-trunk; -through which it sank, entering the twilight of the -tremendous cavern beneath. The abyss below was -lit here and there with artificial lights, like fallen -stars of the underworld, and bridged with wooden -platforms and galleries, on which were wooden -huts and huge packing-cases and many things -somewhat suggestive of a munition dump. On the -rocky walls were spread out various balloon coverings, -some of them of even more grotesque outline -than the castle. Some were in the shapes of animals; -and on that primeval background looked like -the last fossils, or possibly the first outlines of vast -prehistoric creatures. Perhaps there was something -suggestive in the fancy that in that underworld a -new world was being created. The man who -alighted from the flying castle recognized, almost as -one recognizes a domestic pet, the outline of a highly -primitive pig stretching like a large archaic drawing -across the wall. For the young man was called -Hilary Pierce, and had had previous dealings with -the flying pig, though for that day he had been put -in charge of the flying castle.</p> - -<p>On the platform on which he alighted stood a table<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span> -covered with papers, with almost more papers than -Lord Eden’s table. But these papers were covered -almost entirely with figures and numbers and mathematical -symbols. Two men were bending over the -table, discussing and occasionally disputing. In the -taller of the two the scientific world might have -recognized Professor Green, whom it was seeking -everywhere like the Missing Link, to incarcerate -him in the interests of science. In the shorter and -sturdier figure a very few people might have recognized -Bellew Blair, the organizing brain of the English -Revolution.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t come to stay,” explained Pierce hastily. -“I’m going on in a minute.”</p> - -<p>“Why shouldn’t you stay?” asked Blair, in the -act of lighting a pipe.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want your little talk interrupted. Still -less, far, far less, do I want it uninterrupted. I -mean while I’m here. A little of your scientific conversation -goes a long way with me; I know what -you’re like when you’re really chatty. Professor -Green will say in his satirical way ‘9920.05,’ to -which you will reply with quiet humour ‘75.007.’ -This will be too good an opening for a witty fellow -like the Professor, who will instantly retort ‘982.09.’ -Not in the best taste perhaps, but a great temptation -in the heat of debate.”</p> - -<p>“Commander Blair,” said the Professor, “is very -kind to let me share his calculations.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>“Lucky for me,” said Blair. “I’d have done ten -times more with a mathematician like you.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Pierce casually, “as you are so much -immersed in mathematics, I’ll leave you. As a -matter of fact, I had a message for Professor Green, -about Miss Dale at the house where he was lodging; -but we mustn’t interrupt scientific studies for a little -thing like that.”</p> - -<p>Green’s head came up from the papers with great -abruptness.</p> - -<p>“Message!” he cried eagerly. “What message? -Is it really for me?”</p> - -<p>“8282.003,” replied Pierce coldly.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be offended,” said Blair. “Give the Professor -his message and then go if you like.”</p> - -<p>“It’s only that she came over to see my wife to -find out where you had gone to,” said Pierce. “I -told her, so far as it’s possible to tell anybody. -That’s all,” he added, but rather with the air of one -saying “it ought to be enough.”</p> - -<p>Apparently it was, for Green, who was once more -looking down upon the precious papers, crumpled -one of them in his clenched hand unconsciously, like -a man suddenly controlling his feelings.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m off,” said Pierce cheerfully; “got to -visit the other dumps.”</p> - -<p>“Stop a minute,” said Blair, as the other turned -away. “Haven’t you any sort of public news as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span> -well as private news? How are things going in the -political world?”</p> - -<p>“Expressed in mathematical formula,” replied -Pierce over his shoulder, “the political news is MP -squared plus LSD over U equals L. L let loose. -L upon earth, my boy.”</p> - -<p>And he climbed again into his castle of the air.</p> - -<p>Oliver Green stood staring at the crumpled paper -and suddenly began to straighten it out.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Blair,” he said, “I’m terribly ashamed of -myself. When I see you living here like a hermit -in the mountains and scrawling your calculations, -so to speak, on the rocks of the wilderness, devoted -to your great abstract idea, vowed to a great cause, -it makes me feel very small to have entangled you -and your friends in my small affairs. Of course, -the affair isn’t at all small to me; but it must seem -very small to you.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know very precisely,” answered Blair, -“what was the nature of the affair. But that is emphatically -your affair. For the rest, I assure you -we’re delighted to have you, apart from your valuable -services as a calculating machine.”</p> - -<p>Bellew Blair, the last and, in the worldly sense, -by far the ablest of the recruits of the Long Bow, -was a man in early middle age, square built, but -neat in figure and light on his feet, clad in a suit of -leather. He mostly moved about so quickly that his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span> -figure made more impression than his face; but -when he sat down smoking, in one of his rare moments -of leisure, as now, it could be remarked that -his face was rather calm than vivacious; a short -square face with a short resolute nose, but reflective -eyes much lighter than his close black hair.</p> - -<p>“It’s quite Homeric,” he added, “the two armies -fighting for the body of an astronomer. You would -be a sort of a symbol anyhow, since they started -that insanity of calling you insane. Nobody has -any business to bother you about the personal side -of the matter.”</p> - -<p>Green seemed to be ruminating, and the last -phrase awoke him to a decision. He began to talk. -Quite straightforwardly, though with a certain -schoolboy awkwardness, he proceeded to tell his -friend the whole of his uncouth love story—the -overturning of his spiritual world to the tune the old -cow died of, or rather danced to.</p> - -<p>“And I’ve let you in for hiding me like a murderer,” -he concluded. “For the sake of something -that must seem to you, not even like a cow jumping -over the moon, but more like a calf falling over the -milking-stool. Perhaps people vowed to a great -work like this ought to leave all that sort of thing -behind them.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t see anything to be ashamed of,” -said Blair, “and in this case I don’t agree with what -you say about leaving those things behind. Of some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span> -sorts of work it’s true; but not this. Shall I tell -you a secret?”</p> - -<p>“If you don’t mind.”</p> - -<p>“The cow never does jump over the moon,” said -Blair gravely. “It’s one of the sports of the bulls of -the herd.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” said -the Professor.</p> - -<p>“I mean that women can’t be kept out of this war, -because it’s a land war,” answered Blair. “If it -were really a war in the air, you could have done it -all by yourself. But in all wars of peasants defending -their farms and homes, women have been very -much on the spot; as they used to pour hot water -out of the windows during the Irish evictions. -Look here, I’ll tell you a story. It’s relevant because -it has a moral. After all, it’s my turn, so to speak. -You’ve told me the true story of the Cow that -Jumped over the Moon. It’s time I told you the -true story of the Castle in the Air.”</p> - -<p>He smoked silently for a moment, and then -said:</p> - -<p>“You may have wondered how a very prosaic -practical Scotch engineer like myself ever came to -make a thing like that pantomime palace over there, -as childish as a child’s coloured balloon. Well, the -answer is the same; because in certain circumstances -a man may be different from himself. At a certain -period of the old war preparations, I was doing some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span> -work for the government in a secluded part of the -western coast of Ireland. There were very few -people for me to talk to; but one of them was the -daughter of a bankrupt squire named Malone; and -I talked to her a good deal. I was about as mechanical -a mechanic as you could dig out anywhere; -grimy, grumpy, tinkering about with dirty machinery. -She was really like those princesses you read -about in the Celtic poems; with a red crown made -of curling elf-locks like little flames, and a pale -elfin face that seemed somehow thin and luminous -like glass; and she could make you listen to silence -like a song. It wasn’t a pose with her, it was a -poem; there are people like that, but very few of -them like her. I tried to keep my end up by telling -her about the wonders of science, and the great new -architecture of the air. And then Sheila used to -say, ‘And what is the good of them to me, when you -<i>have</i> built them. I can see a castle build itself without -hands out of gigantic rocks of clear jewels in -the sky every night.’ And she would point to where -crimson or violet clouds hung in the green afterglow -over the great Atlantic.</p> - -<p>“You would probably say I was mad, if you didn’t -happen to have been mad yourself. But I was wild -with the idea that there was something that she admired -and that she thought science couldn’t do. I -was as morbid as a boy; I half thought she despised -me; and I wanted half to prove her wrong and half<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span> -to do whatever she thought right. I resolved my -science should beat the clouds at their own game; -and I laboured till I’d actually made a sort of rainbow -castle that would ride on the air. I think at -the back of my mind there was some sort of crazy -idea of carrying her off into the clouds she lived -among, as if she were literally an angel and ought to -dwell on wings. It never quite came to that, as -you will hear, but as my experiments progressed my -romance progressed too. You won’t need any telling -about that; I only want to tell you the end of -the story because of the moral. We made arrangements -to get married; and I had to leave a good -many of the arrangements to her, while I completed -my great work. Then at last it was ready and I -came to seek her like a pagan god descending in a -cloud to carry a nymph up to Olympus. And I -found she had already taken a very solid little brick -villa on the edge of a town, having got it remarkably -cheap and furnished it with most modern conveniences. -And when I talked to her about castles in -the air, she laughed and said her castle had come -down to the ground. That is the moral. A woman, -especially an Irishwoman, is always uncommonly -practical when it comes to getting married. That is -what I mean by saying it is never the cow who -jumps over the moon. It is the cow who stands -firmly planted in the middle of the three acres; -and who always counts in any struggle of the land.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span> -That is why there must be women in this story, -especially like those in your story and Pierce’s, -women who come from the land. When the world -needs a Crusade for communal ideals, it is best -waged by men without ties, like the Franciscans. -But when it comes to a fight for private property—you -can’t keep women out of that. You can’t -have the family farm without the family. You must -have concrete Christian marriage again: you can’t -have solid small property with all this vagabond -polygamy: a harem that isn’t even a home.”</p> - -<p>Green nodded and rose slowly to his feet, with -his hands in his pockets.</p> - -<p>“When it comes to a fight,” he said. “When I -look at these enormous underground preparations, -it is not difficult to infer that you think it will come -to a fight.”</p> - -<p>“I think it has come to a fight,” answered Blair. -“Lord Eden has decided that. And the others may -not understand exactly what they are doing; but he -does.”</p> - -<p>And Blair knocked out his pipe and stood -up, to resume his work in that mountain laboratory, -at about the same time at which Lord Eden -awoke from his smiling meditations; and, lighting -a cigarette, went languidly indoors.</p> - -<p>He did not attempt to explain what was in his mind -to the men around him. He was the only man there -who understood that the England about him was not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span> -the England that had surrounded his youth and supported -his leisure and luxury; that things were -breaking up, first slowly and then more and more -swiftly, and that the things detaching themselves -were both good and evil. And one of them was this -bald, broad and menacing new fact: a peasantry. -The class of small farmers already existed, and might -yet be found fighting for its farms like the same class -all over the world. It was no longer certain that the -sweeping social adjustments settled in that garden -could be applied to the whole English land. But the -story of how far his doubts were justified, and how -far his whole project fared, is a part of the story of -“The Ultimate Ultimatum of the League of the Long -Bow,” after which the exhausted and broken-spirited -reader may find rest at last.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">VIII<br> - -THE ULTIMATE ULTIMATUM OF THE<br> -LEAGUE OF THE LONG BOW</h2> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span> - -<p class="ph1">VIII<br> - -THE ULTIMATE ULTIMATUM OF THE<br> -LEAGUE OF THE LONG BOW</p> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">MR. ROBERT OWEN HOOD came -through his library that was lined with -brown leather volumes with a brown -paper parcel in his hand; a flippant person (such as -his friend Mr. Pierce) might have said he was in a -brown study. He came out into the sunlight of his -garden, however, where his wife was arranging tea-things, -for she was expecting visitors. Even in the -strong daylight he looked strangely little altered, despite -the long and catastrophic period that had -passed since he met her in the Thames Valley and -managed really to set the Thames on fire. That fire -had since spread in space and time and become a -conflagration in which much of modern civilization -had been consumed; but in which (as its advocates -alleged) English agriculture had been saved and a -new and more hopeful chapter opened in English history. -His angular face was rather more lined and -wrinkled, but his straight shock of copper-coloured -hair was as unchanged as if it had been a copper-coloured -wig. His wife Elizabeth was even less<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span> -marked, for she was younger; she had the same -slightly nervous or short-sighted look in the eyes -that was like a humanizing touch to her beauty -made of ivory and gold. But though she was not -old she had always been a little old-fashioned; for -she came of a forgotten aristocracy whose women -had moved with a certain gravity as well as grace -about the old country houses, before coronets were -sold like cabbages or the Jews lent money to the -squires. But her husband was old-fashioned too; -though he had just taken part in a successful revolution -and bore a revolutionary name, he also had -his prejudices; and one of them was a weakness for -his wife being a lady—especially that lady.</p> - -<p>“Owen,” she said, looking up from the tea-table -with alarmed severity, “you’ve been buying more -old books.”</p> - -<p>“As it happens, these are particularly new books,” -he replied; “but I suppose in one sense it’s all ancient -history now.”</p> - -<p>“What ancient history?” she asked. “Is it a History -of Babylon or prehistoric China?”</p> - -<p>“It is a History of Us.”</p> - -<p>“I hope not,” she said; “but what do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“I mean it’s a history of Our Revolution,” said -Owen Hood, “a true and authentic account of the late -glorious victories, as the old broadsheets said. The -Great War of 1914 started the fashion of bringing -out the history of events almost before they’d happened.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span> -There were standard histories of that war -while it was still going on. Our little civil war is -at least finished, thank God; and this is the brand-new -history of it. Written by a rather clever fellow, -detached but understanding and a little ironical -on the right side. Above all, he gives quite a good -description of the Battle of the Bows.”</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t call that our history,” said Elizabeth -quietly. “I’m devoutly thankful that nobody can -ever write our history or put it in a book. Do you -remember when you jumped into the water after the -flowers? I fancy it was then that you really set the -Thames on fire.”</p> - -<p>“With my red hair, no doubt,” he replied, “but I -don’t think I did set the Thames on fire. I think -it was the Thames that set me on fire. Only you -were always the spirit of the stream and the goddess -of the valley.”</p> - -<p>“I hope I’m not quite so old as that,” answered -Elizabeth.</p> - -<p>“Listen to this,” cried her husband, turning over -the pages of the book. “‘According to the general -belief, which prevailed until the recent success of -the agrarian movement of the Long Bow, it was -overwhelmingly improbable that a revolutionary -change could be effected in England. The recent -success of the agrarian protest——’”</p> - -<p>“Do come out of that book,” remonstrated his -wife. “One of our visitors has just arrived.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>The visitor proved to be the Reverend Wilding -White, a man who had also played a prominent part -in the recent triumph, a part that was sometimes -highly public and almost pontifical; but in private -life he had always a way of entering with his grey -hair brushed or blown the wrong way and his eagle -face eager or indignant; and his conversation like -his correspondence came in a rush and was too explosive -to be explanatory.</p> - -<p>“I say,” he cried, “I’ve come to talk to you about -that idea, you know—Enoch Oates wrote about it -from America and he’s a jolly good fellow and all -that; but after all he does come from America and -so he thinks it’s quite easy. But you can see for -yourself it isn’t quite so easy, what with Turks and -all that. It’s all very well to talk about the United -States——”</p> - -<p>“Never you mind about the United States,” said -Hood easily; “I think I’m rather in favour of the -Heptarchy. You just listen to this; the epic of our -own Heptarchy, the story of our own dear little -domestic war. ‘The recent success of the agrarian -protest——’”</p> - -<p>He was interrupted again by the arrival of two -more guests; by the silent entrance of Colonel -Crane and the very noisy entrance of Captain Pierce, -who had brought his young wife with him from the -country, for they had established themselves in the -ancestral inn of the Blue Boar. White’s wife was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span> -still in the country, and Crane’s having long been -busy in her studio with war-posters, was now equally -busy with peace-posters.</p> - -<p>Hood was one of those men whom books almost -literally seize and swallow, like monsters with -leather or paper jaws. It was no exaggeration to -say he was deep in a book as an incautious traveller -might be deep in a swamp or some strange man-eating -plant of the tropics; only that the traveller -was magnetized and did not even struggle. He -would fall suddenly silent in the middle of a sentence -and go on reading; or he would suddenly begin to -read aloud with great passion, arguing with somebody -in the book without any reference to anybody -in the room. Though not normally rude, he would -drift through other people’s drawing-rooms towards -other people’s bookshelves and disappear into them, -so to speak, like a rusty family ghost. He would -travel a hundred miles to see a friend for an hour, -and then waste half an hour with his head in some -odd volume he never happened to have seen before. -On all that side of him there was a sort of almost -creepy unconsciousness. His wife, who had old-world -notions of the graces of a hostess, sometimes -had double work to do.</p> - -<p>“The recent success of the agrarian protest,” began -Hood cheerfully as his wife rose swiftly to receive -two more visitors. These were Professor -Green and Commander Bellew Blair; for a queer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span> -friendship had long linked together the most practical -and the most unpractical of the brothers of the -Long Bow. The friendship, as Pierce remarked, -was firmly rooted in the square root of minus infinity.</p> - -<p>“How beautiful your garden is looking,” said -Blair to his hostess. “One so seldom sees flower-beds -like that now; but I shall always think the old -gardeners were right.”</p> - -<p>“Most things are old-fashioned here, I’m afraid,” -replied Elizabeth, “but I always like them like that. -And how are the children?”</p> - -<p>“The recent success of the agrarian protest,” remarked -her husband in a clear voice, “is doubtless——”</p> - -<p>“Really,” she said, laughing, “you are too ridiculous -for anything. Why in the world should you -want to read out the history of the war to the people -who were in it, and know quite well already what -really happened?”</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Colonel Crane. “Very -improper to contradict a lady, but indeed you are -mistaken. The very last thing the soldier generally -knows is what has really happened. Has to look at -a newspaper next morning for the realistic description -of what never happened.”</p> - -<p>“Why, then you’d better go on reading, Hood,” -said Hilary Pierce. “The Colonel wants to know -whether he was killed in battle; or whether there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span> -any truth in that story that he was hanged as a spy -on the very tree he had climbed when running away -as a deserter.”</p> - -<p>“Should rather like to know what they make of it -all,” said the Colonel. “After all, we were all too -deep in it to see it. I mean see it as a whole.”</p> - -<p>“If Owen once begins he won’t stop for hours,” -said the lady.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” began Blair, “we had better——”</p> - -<p>“The recent success of the agrarian protest,” remarked -Hood in authoritative tones, “is doubtless -to be attributed largely to the economic advantage -belonging to an agrarian population. It can feed -the town or refuse to feed the town; and this question -appeared early in the politics of the peasantry -that had arisen in the western counties. Nobody -will forget the scene at Paddington Station in the -first days of the rebellion. Men who had grown -used to seeing on innumerable mornings the innumerable -ranks and rows of great milk-cans, looking -leaden in a grey and greasy light, found -themselves faced with a blank, in which those neglected -things shone in the memory like stolen silver. -It was true, as Sir Horace Hunter eagerly pointed -out when he was put in command of the highly -hygienic problem of the milk supply, that there -would be no difficulty about manufacturing the -metal cans, perhaps even of an improved pattern, -with a rapidity and finish of which the rustics of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span> -Somerset were quite incapable. He had long been -of opinion, the learned doctor explained, that the -shape of the cans, especially the small cans left outside -poor houses, left much to be desired, and the -whole process of standing these small objects about -in the basements of private houses was open to grave -objection in the matter of waste of space. The public, -however, showed an indifference to this new issue -and a disposition to go back on the old demand for -milk; in which matter, they said, there was an unfair -advantage for the man who possessed a cow over -the man who only possessed a can. But the story -that Hunter had rivalled the agrarian slogan by proclaiming -the policy of ‘Three Areas and a Can’ was -in all probability a flippant invention of his enemies.</p> - -<p>“These agrarian strikes had already occurred at -intervals before they culminated in the agrarian war. -They were the result of the attempt to enforce on -the farmers certain general regulations and precautions -about their daily habit, dress and diet, which -Sir Horace Hunter and Professor Hake had found -to be of great advantage in the large State laboratories -for the manufacture of poisons and destructive -gases. There was every reason to believe that the -people, especially the young people, of the village -often evaded the regulation about the gutta-percha -masks, and the rule requiring the worker to paint -himself all over with an antiseptic gum: and the -sending of inspectors from London to see that these<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span> -rules were enforced led to lamentable scenes of -violence. It would be an error, however, to attribute -the whole of this great social convulsion to any -local agricultural dispute. The causes must also be -sought in the general state of society, especially -political society. The Earl of Eden was a statesman -of great skill by the old Parliamentary standards, -but he was already old when he launched his -final defiance to the peasants in the form of Land -Nationalization; and the General Election which was -the result of this departure fell largely into the hands -of his lieutenants like Hunter and Low. It soon became -apparent that some of the illusions of the Eden -epoch had worn rather thin. It was found that the -democracy could not always be intimidated even by -the threat of consulting them about the choice of a -Government.</p> - -<p>“Nor can it be denied that the General Election of -19— was from the first rendered somewhat unreal -by certain legal fictions which had long been spreading. -There was a custom, originating in the harmless -and humane deception used upon excited maiden -ladies from the provinces, by which the private -secretaries of the Prime Minister would present -themselves as that politician himself; sometimes -completing the innocent illusion by brushing their -hair, waxing their moustaches or wearing their eye-glasses -in the manner of their master. When this -custom was extended to public platforms it cannot<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span> -be denied that it became more questionable. In the -last days of that venerable statesman it has been -asserted that there were no less than five Lloyd -Georges touring the country at the same time, and -that the contemporary Chancellor of the Exchequer -had appeared simultaneously in three cities on the -same night, while the original of all these replicas, -the popular and brilliant Chancellor himself, was enjoying -a well-earned rest by the Lake of Como. -The incident of the two identical Lord Smiths -appearing side by side on the same platform (through -a miscalculation of the party agents), though received -with good-humour and honest merriment by -the audience, did but little good to the serious credit -of parliamentary institutions. There was of course -a certain exaggeration in the suggestion of the satirist -that a whole column of identical Prime Ministers, -walking two and two like soldiers, marched out of -Downing Street every morning and distributed -themselves to their various posts like policemen; -but such satires were popular and widely scattered, -especially by an active young gentleman who was -the author of most of them—Captain Hilary Pierce, -late of the Flying Corps.</p> - -<p>“But if this was true of such trifles as a half a -dozen of Prime Ministers, it was even truer and -more trying in the practical matter of party programmes -and proposals. The heading of each party -programme with the old promise ‘Every Man a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span> -Millionaire’ had of course become merely formal, -like a decorative pattern or border. But it cannot -be denied that the universal use of this phrase, combined -with the equally universal sense of the unfairness -of expecting any politician to carry it out, -somewhat weakened the force of words in political -affairs. It would have been well if statesmen -had confined themselves to these accepted -and familiar formalities. Unfortunately, under the -stress of the struggle which arose out of the menacing -organization of the League of the Long Bow, -they sought to dazzle their followers with new improbabilities -instead of adhering to the tried and -trusty improbabilities that had done them yeoman -service in the past.</p> - -<p>“Thus it was unwise of Lord Normantowers so far -to depart from the temperance principles of a lifetime -as to promise all his workers a bottle of champagne -each at every meal, if they would consent to -complete the provision of munitions for suppressing -the Long Bow rebellion. The great philanthropist -unquestionably had the highest intentions, both in -his rash promise and his more reasonable fulfilment. -But when the munition-workers found that the -champagne-bottles, though carefully covered with -the most beautiful gold-foil, contained in fact nothing -but hygienically boiled water, the result was a -sudden and sensational strike, which paralysed the -whole output of munitions and led to the first incredible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span> -victories of the League of the Long Bow.</p> - -<p>“There followed in consequence one of the most -amazing wars of human history—a one-sided war. -One side would have been insignificant if the other -had not been impotent. The minority could not -have fought for long; only the majority could not -fight at all. There prevailed through the whole of -the existing organizations of society a universal distrust -that turned them into a dust of disconnected -atoms. What was the use of offering men higher -pay when they did not believe they would ever receive -it, but only alluded jeeringly to Lord Normantowers -and his brand of champagne? What was the use of -telling every man that he would have a bonus, when -you had told him for twenty years that he would soon -be a millionaire? What was the good of the Prime -Minister pledging his honour in a ringing voice on -platform after platform, when it was already an -open jest that it was not the Prime Minister at all? -The Government voted taxes and they were not paid. -It mobilized armies and they did not move. It introduced -the pattern of a new all-pulverizing gun, -and nobody would make it and nobody would fire it -off. We all remember the romantic crisis when no -less a genius than Professor Hake came to Sir Horace -Hunter, the Minister of Scientific Social Organization, -with a new explosive capable of shattering -the whole geological formation of Europe and sinking -these islands in the Atlantic, but was unable to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span> -induce the cabman or any of the clerks to assist him -in lifting it out of the cab.</p> - -<p>“Against all this anarchy of broken promises the -little organization of the Long Bow stood solid and -loyal and dependable. The Long Bowmen had become -popular by the nickname of the Liars. Everywhere -the jest or catch-word was repeated like a -song, ‘Only the Liars Tell the Truth.’ They found -more and more men to work and fight for them, because -it was known that they would pay whatever -wages they promised, and refuse to promise anything -that they could not perform. The nickname -became an ironical symbol of idealism and -dignity. A man was proud of being a little -precise and even pedantic in his accuracy and -probity because he was a Liar. The whole of this -strange organization had originated in certain wild -bets or foolish practical jokes indulged in by a small -group of eccentrics. But they had prided themselves -on the logical, if rather literal, fashion in -which they had fulfilled certain vows about white -elephants or flying pigs. Hence, when they came -to stand for a policy of peasant proprietorship, and -were enabled by the money of an American crank -to establish it in a widespread fashion across the -west of England, they took the more serious task -with the same tenacity. When their foes mocked -them with ‘the myth of three acres and a cow,’ they -answered: ‘Yes, it is as mythical as the cow that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span> -jumped over the moon. But our myths come true.’</p> - -<p>“The inexplicable and indeed incredible conclusion -of the story was due to a new fact; the fact -of the actual presence of the new peasantry. They -had first come into complete possession of their -farms, by the deed of gift signed by Enoch Oates in -the February of 19— and had thus been settled on -the land for ten or twelve years when Lord Eden and -his Cabinet finally committed themselves to the -scheme of Land Nationalization by which their -homesteads were to pass into official control. That -curious and inexplicable thing, the spirit of the peasant, -had made great strides in the interval. It was -found that the Government could not move such -people about from place to place, as it is possible to -do with the urban poor in the reconstruction of -streets or the destruction of slums. It was not a -thing like moving pawns, but a thing like pulling up -plants; and plants that had already struck their -roots very deep. In short, the Government, which -had adopted a policy commonly called Socialist from -motives that were in fact very conservative, found -themselves confronted with the same peasant resistance -as brought the Bolshevist Government in -Russia to a standstill. And when Lord Eden and -his Cabinet put in motion the whole modern machinery -of militarism and coercion to crush the little experiment, -he found himself confronted with a rural<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span> -rising such as has not been known in England since -the Middle Ages.</p> - -<p>“It is said that the men of the Long Bow carried -their mediæval symbolism so far as to wear Lincoln -green as their uniform when they retired to the -woods in the manner of Robin Hood. It is certain -that they did employ the weapon after which they -were named; and curiously enough, as will be seen, -by no means without effect. But it must be clearly -understood that when the new agrarian class took to -the woods like outlaws, they did not feel in the least -like robbers. They hardly even felt like rebels. -From their point of view at least, they were and had -long been the lawful owners of their own fields, and -the officials who came to confiscate were the robbers. -Therefore when Lord Eden proclaimed Nationalization, -they turned out in thousands as their fathers -would have gone out against pirates or wolves.</p> - -<p>“The Government acted with great promptitude. -It instantly voted £50,000 to Mr. Rosenbaum Low, -the expenditure of which was wisely left to his discretion -at so acute a crisis, with no more than the -understanding that he should take a thorough general -survey of the situation. He proved worthy of -the trust; and it was with the gravest consideration -and sense of responsibility that he selected Mr. Leonard -Kramp, the brilliant young financier, from all -his other nephews to take command of the forces in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span> -the field. In the field, however, fortune is well -known to be somewhat more incalculable; and all the -intelligence and presence of mind that had enabled -Kramp to postpone the rush on the Potosi Bank were -not sufficient to balance the accidental possession -by Crane and Pierce of an elementary knowledge of -strategy.</p> - -<p>“Before considering the successes obtained by -these commanders in the rather rude fashion of warfare -which they were forced to adopt, it must be -noted, of course, that even on their side there were -also scientific resources of a kind; and an effective -if eccentric kind. The scientific genius of Bellew -Blair had equipped his side with many secret processes -affecting aviation and aeronautics, and it is -the peculiarity of this extraordinary man that his -secret processes really remained for a considerable -time secret. For he had not told them to anybody -with any intention of making any money out of -them. This quixotic and visionary behaviour contrasted -sharply with the shrewd good sense of the -great business men who knew that publicity is the -soul of business. For some time past they had -successfully ignored the outworn sentimental prejudice -that had prevented soldiers and sailors from advertising -the best methods of defeating the enemy; -and we can all recall those brilliantly coloured announcements -which used to brighten so many hoardings -in those days, ‘Sink in Smith’s Submarine;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span> -Pleasure Trips for Patriots.’ Or ‘Duffin’s Portable -Dug-Out Makes War a Luxury.’ Advertisement -cannot fail to effect its aim; the name of an aeroplane -that had been written on the sky in pink and -pea-green lights could not but become a symbol of -the conquest of the air; and the patriotic statesman, -deeply considering what sort of battleship might best -defend his country’s coasts, was insensibly and -subtly influenced by the number of times that he had -seen its name repeated on the steps of a moving -staircase at an Imperial Exhibition. Nor could -there be any doubt about the brilliant success that -attended these scientific specialities so long as their -operations were confined to the market. The -methods of Commander Blair were in comparison -private, local, obscure and lacking any general recognition; -and by a strange irony it was a positive advantage -to this nameless and secretive crank that he -had never advertised his weapons until he used them. -He had paraded a number of merely fanciful balloons -and fireworks for a jest; but the secrets to -which he attached importance he had hidden in -cracks of the Welsh mountains with a curious and -callous indifference to the principles of commercial -distribution and display. He could not in any case -have conducted operations on a large scale, being deficient -in that capital, the lack of which has so often -been fatal to inventors; and had made it useless for -a man to discover a machine unless he could also<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span> -discover a millionaire. But it cannot be denied that -when his machine was brought into operation it was -always operative, even to the point of killing the -millionaire who might have financed it. For the -millionaire had so persistently cultivated the virtues -of self-advertisement that it was difficult for him to -become suddenly unknown and undistinguished, -even in scenes of conflict where he most ardently -desired to do so. There was a movement on foot -for treating all millionaires as non-combatants, as -being treasures belonging alike to all nations, like -the Cathedrals or the Parthenon. It is said that -there was even an alternative scheme for camouflaging -the millionaire by the pictorial methods that can -disguise a gun as a part of the landscape; and that -Captain Pierce devoted much eloquence to persuading -Mr. Rosenbaum Low how much better it would -be for all parties if his face could be made to melt -away into the middle distance or take on the appearance -of a blank wall or a wooden post.”</p> - -<p>“The extraordinary thing is,” interrupted Pierce, -who had been listening eagerly, “that he said I was -personal. Just at the moment when I was trying to -make him most <i>im</i>personal, when I was trying to -wave away all personal features that could come between -us, he actually said I was personal.”</p> - -<p>Hood went on reading as if nobody had spoken. -“In truth the successes of Blair’s instruments revealed -a fallacy in the common commercial argument.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span> -We talk of a competition between two kinds -of soap or two kinds of jam or cocoa, but it is a competition -in purchase and not in practice. We do not -make two men eat two kinds of jam and then observe -which wears the most radiant smile of satisfaction. -We do not give two men two kinds of -cocoa and note which endures it with most resignation. -But we do use two guns directly against each -other; and in the case of Blair’s methods the less -advertised gun was the better. Nevertheless his -scientific genius could only cover a corner of the -field; and a great part of the war must be considered -as a war in the open country of a much more primitive -and sometimes almost prehistoric kind.</p> - -<p>“It is admitted of course by all students that the -victories of Crane and Pierce were gross violations -of strategic science. The victors themselves afterwards -handsomely acknowledged the fact; but it -was then too late to repair the error. In order to -understand it, however, it is necessary to grasp the -curious condition into which so many elements of -social life had sunk in the time just preceding the -outbreak. It was this strange social situation which -rendered the campaign a contradiction to so many -sound military maxims.</p> - -<p>“For instance, it is a recognized military maxim -that armies depend upon roads. But anyone who -had noticed the conditions that were already beginning -to appear in the London streets as early as 1924<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span> -will understand that a road was something less simple -and static than the Romans imagined. The Government -had adopted everywhere in their road-making -the well-known material familiar to us all from the -advertisements by the name of ‘Nobumpo,’ thereby -both insuring the comfort of travellers and rewarding -a faithful supporter by placing a large order -with Mr. Hugg. As several members of the Government -themselves held shares in ‘Nobumpo’ their enthusiastic -co-operation in the public work was assured. -But, as has no doubt been observed everywhere, -it is one of the many advantages of ‘Nobumpo,’ -as preserving that freshness of surface so -agreeable to the pedestrian, that the whole material -can be (and is) taken up and renewed every three -months, for the comfort of travellers and the profit -and encouragement of trade. It so happened that -at the precise moment of the outbreak of hostilities -all the country roads, especially in the west, were as -completely out of use as if they had been the main -thoroughfares of London. This in itself tended to -equalize the chances or even to increase them in -favour of a guerilla force, such as that which had disappeared -into the woods and was everywhere moving -under the cover of the trees. Under modern -conditions, it was found that by carefully avoiding -roads, it was still more or less possible to move from -place to place.</p> - -<p>“Again, another recognized military fact is the fact<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span> -that the bow is an obsolete weapon. And nothing -is more irritating to a finely balanced taste than to -be killed with an obsolete weapon, especially while -persistently pulling the trigger of an efficient weapon, -without any apparent effect. Such was the fate of -the few unfortunate regiments which ventured to advance -into the forests and fell under showers of arrows -from trackless ambushes. For it must be -remembered that the conditions of this extraordinary -campaign entirely reversed the normal military -rule about the essential military department of supply. -Mechanical communications theoretically accelerate -supply, while the supply of a force cut loose -and living on the country is soon exhausted. But the -mechanical factor also depends upon a moral factor. -Ammunition would on normal occasions have been -produced with unequalled rapidity by Poole’s Process -and brought up with unrivalled speed in Blinker’s -Cars; but not at the moment when riotous employees -were engaged in dipping Poole repeatedly in a -large vat at the factory or in the quieter conditions -of the countryside, where various tramps were acquiring -squatters’ rights in Blinker’s Cars, accidentally -delayed upon their journey. Everywhere -the same thing happened; just as the great manufacturer -failed to keep his promise to the workers who -produced munitions, so the petty officials driving the -lorries had failed to keep their promise to loafers and -vagrants who had helped them out of temporary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span> -difficulties; and the whole system of supply broke -down upon a broken word. On the other hand, the -supply of the outlaws was in a sense almost infinite. -With the woodcutters and the blacksmiths on their -side, they could produce their own rude mediæval -weapons everywhere. It was in vain that Professor -Hake delivered a series of popular lectures, proving -to the lower classes that in the long run it would be -to their economic advantage to be killed in battle. -Captain Pierce is reported to have said: ‘I believe -the Professor is a botanist as well as an economist; -but as a botanist he has not yet discovered that guns -do not grow on trees. Bows and arrows do.’</p> - -<p>“But the incident which history will have most -difficulty in explaining, and which it may perhaps -refer to the region of myth or romance, is the crowning -victory commonly called the Battle of the Bows. -It was indeed originally called ‘The Battle of the -Bows of God’; in reference to some strangely fantastic -boast, equally strangely fulfilled, that is said -to have been uttered by the celebrated Parson White, -a sort of popular chaplain who seems to have been -the Friar Tuck of this new band of Robin Hood. -Coming on a sort of embassy to Sir Horace Hunter, -this clergyman is said to have threatened the Government -with something like a miracle. When rallied -about the archaic sport of the Long Bow, he replied: -‘Yes, we have long bows and we shall have longer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span> -bows; the longest bows the world has ever seen; -bows taller than houses; bows given to us by God -Himself and big enough for His gigantic angels.’</p> - -<p>“The whole business of this battle, historic and -decisive as it was, is covered with some obscurity, -like that cloud of storm that hung heavy upon the -daybreak of that gloomy November day. Had anyone -been present with the Government forces who -was well acquainted with the western valley in which -they were operating, such a person could not have -failed to notice that the very landscape looked different; -looked new and abnormal. Dimly as it could -be traced through the morning twilight, the very line -of the woodland against the sky would have shown -him a new shape; a deformity like a hump. But -the plans had all been laid out in London long before -in imitation of that foresight, fixity of purpose, -and final success that will always be associated with -the last German Emperor. It was enough for them -that there was a wood of some sort marked on the -map, and they advanced towards it, low and crouching -as its entrance appeared to be.</p> - -<p>“Then something happened, which even those who -saw it and survived cannot describe. The dark -trees seemed to spring up to twice their height as in -a nightmare. In the half-dark the whole wood -seemed to rise from the earth like a rush of birds -and then to turn over in mid-air and come towards<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span> -the invaders like a roaring wave. Some such dim -and dizzy sight they saw; but many of them at least -saw little enough afterwards. Simultaneously with -the turning of this wheel of waving trees, rocks -seemed to rain down out of heaven; beams and -stones and shafts and missiles of all kinds, flattening -out the advancing force as under a pavement produced -by a shower of paving-stones. It is asserted -that some of the countrymen cunning in woodcraft, -in the service of the Long Bow, had contrived to fit -up a tree as a colossal catapult; calculating how to -bend back the boughs and sometimes even the trunks -to the breaking-point, and gaining a huge and living -resilience with their release. If this story is true, it -is certainly an appropriate conclusion to the career -of the Long Bow and a rather curious fulfilment of -the visionary vaunt of Parson White when he said -that the bows would be big enough for giants, and -that the maker of the bows was God.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” interrupted the excitable White, “and do -you know what he said to me when I first said it?”</p> - -<p>“What who said when you said what?” asked -Hood patiently.</p> - -<p>“I mean that fellow Hunter,” replied the clergyman. -“That varnished society doctor turned politician. -Do you know what he said when I told him -we would get our bows from God?”</p> - -<p>Owen Hood paused in the act of lighting a cigar.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said grimly. “I believe I can tell you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span> -exactly what he said. I’ve watched him off and on -for twenty years. I bet he began by saying: ‘I -don’t profess to be a religious man.’”</p> - -<p>“Right, quite right,” cried the cleric bounding -upon his chair in a joyous manner, “that’s exactly -how he began. ‘I don’t profess to be a religious -man, but I trust I have some reverence and good -taste. I don’t drag religion into politics.’ And I -said: ‘No, I don’t think you do.’”</p> - -<p>A moment after, he bounded, as it were, in a new -direction. “And that reminds me of what I came -about,” he cried. “Enoch Oates, your American -friend, drags religion into politics all right; only it’s -a rather American sort of religion. He’s talking -about a United States of Europe and wants to introduce -you to a Lithuanian Prophet. It seems this -Lithuanian party has started a movement for a Universal -Peasant Republic or World State of Workers -on the Land; but at present he’s only got as far as -Lithuania. But he seems inclined to pick up England -on the way, after the unexpected success of -the English agrarian party.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the good of talking to me about a World -State,” growled Hood. “Didn’t I say I preferred a -Heptarchy?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you understand?” interrupted Hilary -Pierce excitedly. “What can we have to do with -international republics? We can turn England upside-down -if we like; but it’s England that we like,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span> -whichever way up. Why, our very names and -phrases, the very bets and jokes in which the whole -thing began, will never be translated. It takes an -Englishman to eat his hat; I never heard of a Spaniard -threatening to eat his sombrero, or a Chinaman -to chew his pigtail. You can only set the -Thames on fire; you cannot set the Tiber or the -Ganges on fire, because the habit of speech has never -been heard of. What’s the good of talking about -white elephants in countries where they are only -white elephants? Go and say to a Frenchman, -‘<i>Pour mon château, je le trouve un elephant blanc</i>’ -and he will send two Parisian alienists to look at -you seriously, like a man who says that his motor-car -is a green giraffe. There is no point in telling -Czecho-Slovakian pigs to fly, or Jugo-Slavonic cows -to jump over the moon. Why, the unhappy Lithuanian -would be bewildered to the point of madness by -our very name. There is no reason to suppose that -he and his countrymen talk about a Long Bowman -when they mean a liar. We talk about tall stories, -but a tall story may mean a true story in colloquial -Lithuanian.”</p> - -<p>“Tall stories are true stories sometimes, I hope,” -said Colonel Crane, “and people don’t believe ’em. -But people’ll say that was a very tall story about the -tall trees throwing darts and stones. Afraid it’ll -come to be a bit of a joke.”</p> - -<p>“All our battles began as jokes and they will end<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span> -as jokes,” said Owen Hood, staring at the smoke of -his cigar as it threaded its way towards the sky in -grey and silver arabesque. “They will linger only -as faintly laughable legends, if they linger at all; -they may pass an idle hour or fill an empty page; -and even the man who tells them will not take them -seriously. It will all end in smoke like the smoke I -am looking at; in eddying and topsy-turvy patterns -hovering for a moment in the air. And I wonder -how many, who may smile or yawn over them, will -realize that where there was smoke there was fire?”</p> - -<p>There was a silence; then Colonel Crane stood up, -a solitary figure in his severe and formal clothes, -and gravely said farewell to his hostess. With the -failing afternoon light he knew that his own wife, -who was a well-known artist, would be abandoning -her studio work, and he always looked forward to -a talk with her before dinner, which was often a -more social function. Nevertheless, as he approached -his old home a whim induced him to delay -the meeting for a few minutes and to walk around to -his old kitchen-garden, where his old servant Archer -was still leaning on a spade, as in the days before -the Flood.</p> - -<p>So he stood for a moment amid a changing world -exactly as he had stood on that distant Sunday morning -at the beginning of all these things. The South -Sea idol still stood at the corner; the scarecrow still -wore the hat that he had sacrificed; the cabbages<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span> -still looked green and solid like the cabbage he had -once dug up, digging up so much along with it.</p> - -<p>“Queer thing,” he said, “how true it is what Hilary -once said about acting an allegory without knowing -it. Never had a notion of what I was doing when I -picked up a cabbage and wore it for a wager. -Damned awkward position, but I never dreamed I -was being martyred for a symbol. And the right -symbol too, for I’ve lived to see Britannia crowned -with cabbage. All very well to say Britannia ruled -the waves; it was the land she couldn’t rule, her own -land, and it was heaving like earthquakes. But -while there’s cabbage there’s hope. Archer, my -friend, this is the moral: any country that tries to -do without cabbages is done for. And even in war -you often fight as much with cabbages as cannon -balls.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” said Archer respectfully; “would you -be wanting another cabbage now, sir?”</p> - -<p>Colonel Crane repressed a slight shudder. “No, -thank you; no, thank you,” he said hastily. Then -he muttered as he turned away: “I don’t mind revolutions -so much, but I wouldn’t go through that -again.”</p> - -<p>And he passed swiftly round his house, of which -the windows began to show the glow of kindled -lamps, and went in to his wife.</p> - -<p>Archer was left alone in the garden, tidying up -after his work and shifting the potted shrubs; a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span> -dark and solitary figure as sunset and twilight sank -all around the enclosure like soft curtains of grey -with a border of purple; and the windows, as yet -uncurtained and full of lamplight, painted patterns -of gold on the lawns and flagged walks without. -It was perhaps appropriate that he should remain -alone and apart; for he alone in all these changes -had remained quite unchanged. It was perhaps -fitting that his figure should stand in a dark outline -against the darkening scene; for the mystery of his -immutable respectability remains more of a riddle -than all the riot of the rest. No revolution could -revolutionize Mr. Archer. Attempts had been made -to provide so excellent a gardener with a garden of -his own; with a farm of his own, in accordance with -the popular policy of the hour. But he would not -adapt himself to the new world; nor would he hasten -to die out, as was his duty on evolutionary principles. -He was merely a survival; but he showed -a perplexing disposition to survive.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the lonely gardener realized that he was -not alone. A face had appeared above the hedge, -gazing at him with blue eyes dreaming yet burning; -a face with something of the tint and profile of Shelley. -It was impossible that Mr. Archer should have -heard of such a person as Shelley: fortunately he -recognized the visitor as a friend of his master.</p> - -<p>“Forgive me if I am mistaken, Citizen Archer,” -said Hilary Pierce with pathetic earnestness, “but it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span> -seems to me that you are not swept along with the -movement; that a man of your abilities has been -allowed to stand apart, as it were, from the campaign -of the Long Bow. And yet how strange! Are you -not Archer? Does not your very name rise up and -reproach you? Ought you not to have shot more -arrows or told more tarradiddles than all the rest? -Or is there perhaps a more elemental mystery behind -your immobility, like that of a statue in the garden? -Are you indeed the god of the garden, more beautiful -than this South Sea idol and more respectable -than Priapus? Are you in no mortal sense an -Archer? Are you perhaps Apollo, serving this military -Admetus; successfully, yes, successfully, hiding -your radiance from me?” He paused for a reply, -and then lowered his voice as he resumed: “Or are -you not rather that other Archer whose shafts are -not shafts of death but of life and fruitfulness; -whose arrows plant themselves like little flowering -trees; like the little shrubs you are planting in this -garden? Are you he that gives the sunstroke not in -the head but the heart; and have you stricken each -of us in turn with the romance that has awakened us -for the revolution? For without that spirit of fruitfulness -and the promise of the family, these visions -would indeed be vain. Are you in truth the God of -Love; and has your arrow stung and startled each of -us into telling his story? I will not call you Cupid,” -he said with a slight air of deprecation or apology,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span> -“I will not call you Cupid, Mr. Archer, for I conceive -you as no pagan deity, but rather as that image -clarified and spiritualized to a symbol almost Christian, -as he might have appeared to Chaucer or to -Botticelli. Nay, it was you that, clad in no heathen -colours, but rather in mediæval heraldry, blew a -blast on his golden trumpet when Beatrice saluted -Dante on the bridge. Are you indeed that Archer, -O Archer, and did you give each one of us his Vita -Nuova?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” said Mr. Archer.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Thus does the chronicler of the League of the -Long Bow come to the end of his singularly unproductive -and unprofitable labours, without, perhaps, -having yet come to the beginning. The reader may -have once hoped, perhaps, that the story would be -like the universe; which when it ends, will explain -why it ever began. But the reader has long been -sleeping, after the toils and trials of his part in the -affair; and the writer is too tactful to ask at how -early a stage of his story-telling that generally satisfactory -solution of all our troubles was found. He -knows not if the sleep has been undisturbed, or in -that sleep what dreams may come, if there has been -cast upon it any shadow of the shapes in his own -very private and comfortable nightmare; turrets -clad with the wings of morning or temples marching<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span> -over dim meadows as living monsters, or swine -plumed like cherubim or forests bent like bows, or a -fiery river winding through a dark land. Images -are in their nature indefensible, if they miss the imagination -of another; and the foolish scribe of the -Long Bow will not commit the last folly of defending -his dreams. He at least has drawn a bow at a -venture and shot an arrow into the air; and he has -no intention of looking for it in oaks, all over the -neighbourhood, or expecting to find it still sticking -in a mortal and murderous manner in the heart of a -friend. His is only a toy bow; and when a boy -shoots with such a bow, it is generally very difficult -to find the arrow—or the boy.</p> - -<p class="center">THE END</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> - -<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> -</div></div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF THE LONG BOW ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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