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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Buried Alive: A Tale of These Days + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: February 2, 2004 [EBook #10911] +[Date last updated: January 9, 2005] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BURIED ALIVE: A TALE OF THESE DAYS *** + + + + +Produced by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>BURIED ALIVE</h1> + +<h2><i>A Tale of These Days</i></h2> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ARNOLD BENNETT</h2> + +<h4><b>1950</b></h4> + +<hr /> + + +<blockquote> +<h3>To</h3><br /> +<h3>JOHN FREDERICK FARRAR</h3><br /> +<h3>M.R.C.S., L.R.C.P.</h3><br /> +<h3>MY COLLABORATOR</h3><br /> +<h3>IN THIS AND MANY OTHER BOOKS</h3><br /> +<h3>A GRATEFUL EXPRESSION</h3><br /> +<h3>OF OLD-ESTABLISHED REGARD</h3><br /> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + + + +<h1>CONTENTS</h1> + + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I. THE PUCE DRESSING-GOWN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II. A PAIL</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III. THE PHOTOGRAPH</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV. A SCOOP</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V. ALICE ON HOTELS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI. A PUTNEY MORNING</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII. THE CONFESSION</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII. AN INVASION</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX. A GLOSSY MALE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X. THE SECRET</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI. AN ESCAPE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII. ALICE'S PERFORMANCES</a></p> + + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>The Puce Dressing-gown</i></h2> + + +<p>The peculiar angle of the earth's axis to the plane of the +ecliptic--that angle which is chiefly responsible for our geography and +therefore for our history--had caused the phenomenon known in London as +summer. The whizzing globe happened to have turned its most civilized face +away from the sun, thus producing night in Selwood Terrace, South +Kensington. In No. 91 Selwood Terrace two lights, on the ground-floor and +on the first-floor, were silently proving that man's ingenuity can outwit +nature's. No. 91 was one of about ten thousand similar houses between South +Kensington Station and North End Road. With its grimy stucco front, its +cellar kitchen, its hundred stairs and steps, its perfect inconvenience, +and its conscience heavy with the doing to death of sundry general +servants, it uplifted tin chimney-cowls to heaven and gloomily awaited the +day of judgment for London houses, sublimely ignoring the axial and orbital +velocities of the earth and even the reckless flight of the whole solar +system through space. You felt that No. 91 was unhappy, and that it could +only be rendered happy by a 'To let' standard in its front patch and a 'No +bottles' card in its cellar-windows. It possessed neither of these +specifics. Though of late generally empty, it was never untenanted. In the +entire course of its genteel and commodious career it had never once been +to let.</p> + +<p>Go inside, and breathe its atmosphere of a bored house that is generally +empty yet never untenanted. All its twelve rooms dark and forlorn, save +two; its cellar kitchen dark and forlorn; just these two rooms, one on the +top of the other like boxes, pitifully struggling against the inveterate +gloom of the remaining ten! Stand in the dark hall and get this atmosphere +into your lungs.</p> + +<p>The principal, the startling thing in the illuminated room on the +ground-floor was a dressing-gown, of the colour, between heliotrope and +purple, known to a previous generation as puce; a quilted garment stuffed +with swansdown, light as hydrogen--nearly, and warm as the smile of a kind +heart; old, perhaps, possibly worn in its outlying regions and allowing +fluffs of feathery white to escape through its satin pores; but a +dressing-gown to dream of. It dominated the unkempt, naked apartment, its +voluptuous folds glittering crudely under the sun-replacing oil lamp which +was set on a cigar-box on the stained deal table. The oil lamp had a glass +reservoir, a chipped chimney, and a cardboard shade, and had probably cost +less than a florin; five florins would have purchased the table; and all +the rest of the furniture, including the arm-chair in which the +dressing-gown reclined, a stool, an easel, three packets of cigarettes and +a trouser-stretcher, might have been replaced for another ten florins. Up +in the corners of the ceiling, obscure in the eclipse of the cardboard +shade, was a complicated system of cobwebs to match the dust on the bare +floor.</p> + +<p>Within the dressing-gown there was a man. This man had reached the +interesting age. I mean the age when you think you have shed all the +illusions of infancy, when you think you understand life, and when you are +often occupied in speculating upon the delicious surprises which existence +may hold for you; the age, in sum, that is the most romantic and tender of +all ages--for a male. I mean the age of fifty. An age absurdly +misunderstood by all those who have not reached it! A thrilling age! +Appearances are tragically deceptive.</p> + +<p>The inhabitant of the puce dressing-gown had a short greying beard and +moustache; his plenteous hair was passing from pepper into salt; there were +many minute wrinkles in the hollows between his eyes and the fresh crimson +of his cheeks; and the eyes were sad; they were very sad. Had he stood +erect and looked perpendicularly down, he would have perceived, not his +slippers, but a protuberant button of the dressing-gown. Understand me: I +conceal nothing; I admit the figures written in the measurement-book of his +tailor. He was fifty. Yet, like most men of fifty, he was still very young, +and, like most bachelors of fifty, he was rather helpless. He was quite +sure that he had not had the best of luck. If he had excavated his soul he +would have discovered somewhere in its deeps a wistful, appealing desire to +be taken care of, to be sheltered from the inconveniences and harshness of +the world. But he would not have admitted the discovery. A bachelor of +fifty cannot be expected to admit that he resembles a girl of nineteen. +Nevertheless it is a strange fact that the resemblance between the heart of +an experienced, adventurous bachelor of fifty and the simple heart of a +girl of nineteen is stronger than girls of nineteen imagine; especially +when the bachelor of fifty is sitting solitary and unfriended at two +o'clock in the night, in the forlorn atmosphere of a house that has +outlived its hopes. Bachelors of fifty alone will comprehend me.</p> + +<p>It has never been decided what young girls do meditate upon when they +meditate; young girls themselves cannot decide. As a rule the lonely +fancies of middle-aged bachelors are scarcely less amenable to definition. +But the case of the inhabitant of the puce dressing-gown was an exception +to the rule. He knew, and he could have said, precisely what he was +thinking about. In that sad hour and place, his melancholy thoughts were +centred upon the resplendent, unique success in life of a gifted and +glorious being known to nations and newspapers as Priam Farll.</p> + + +<h2><i>Riches and Renown</i></h2> + + +<p>In the days when the New Gallery was new, a picture, signed by the +unknown name of Priam Farll, was exhibited there, and aroused such terrific +interest that for several months no conversation among cultured persons was +regarded as complete without some reference to it. That the artist was a +very great painter indeed was admitted by every one; the only question +which cultured persons felt it their duty to settle was whether he was the +greatest painter that ever lived or merely the greatest painter since +Velasquez. Cultured persons might have continued to discuss that nice point +to the present hour, had it not leaked out that the picture had been +refused by the Royal Academy. The culture of London then at once healed up +its strife and combined to fall on the Royal Academy as an institution +which had no right to exist. The affair even got into Parliament and +occupied three minutes of the imperial legislature. Useless for the Royal +Academy to argue that it had overlooked the canvas, for its dimensions were +seven feet by five; it represented a policeman, a simple policeman, +life-size, and it was not merely the most striking portrait imaginable, but +the first appearance of the policeman in great art; criminals, one heard, +instinctively fled before it. No! The Royal Academy really could not argue +that the work had been overlooked. And in truth the Royal Academy did not +argue accidental negligence. It did not argue about its own right to exist. +It did not argue at all. It blandly went on existing, and taking about a +hundred and fifty pounds a day in shillings at its polished turnstiles. No +details were obtainable concerning Priam Farll, whose address was Poste +Restante, St. Martin's-le-Grand. Various collectors, animated by deep faith +in their own judgment and a sincere desire to encourage British art, were +anxious to purchase the picture for a few pounds, and these enthusiasts +were astonished and pained to learn that Priam Farll had marked a figure of +£1,000--the price of a rare postage stamp.</p> + +<p>In consequence the picture was not sold; and after an enterprising +journal had unsuccessfully offered a reward for the identification of the +portrayed policeman, the matter went gently to sleep while the public +employed its annual holiday as usual in discussing the big gooseberry of +matrimonial relations.</p> + +<p>Every one naturally expected that in the following year the mysterious +Priam Farll would, in accordance with the universal rule for a successful +career in British art, contribute another portrait of another policeman to +the New Gallery--and so on for about twenty years, at the end of which +period England would have learnt to recognize him as its favourite painter +of policemen. But Priam Farll contributed nothing to the New Gallery. He +had apparently forgotten the New Gallery: which was considered to be +ungracious, if not ungrateful, on his part. Instead, he adorned the Paris +salon with a large seascape showing penguins in the foreground. Now these +penguins became the penguins of the continental year; they made penguins +the fashionable bird in Paris, and also (twelve months later) in London. +The French Government offered to buy the picture on behalf of the Republic +at its customary price of five hundred francs, but Priam Farll sold it to +the American connoisseur Whitney C. Whitt for five thousand dollars. +Shortly afterwards he sold the policeman, whom he had kept by him, to the +same connoisseur for ten thousand dollars. Whitney C. Whitt was the expert +who had paid two hundred thousand dollars for a Madonna and St. Joseph, +with donor, of Raphael. The enterprising journal before mentioned +calculated that, counting the space actually occupied on the canvas by the +policeman, the daring connoisseur had expended two guineas per square inch +on the policeman.</p> + +<p>At which stage the vast newspaper public suddenly woke up and demanded +with one voice:</p> + +<p>"Who is this Priam Farll?"</p> + +<p>Though the query remained unanswered, Priam Farll's reputation was +henceforward absolutely assured, and this in spite of the fact that he +omitted to comply with the regulations ordained by English society for the +conduct of successful painters. He ought, first, to have taken the +elementary precaution of being born in the United States. He ought, after +having refused all interviews for months, to have ultimately granted a +special one to a newspaper with the largest circulation. He ought to have +returned to England, grown a mane and a tufted tail, and become the king of +beasts; or at least to have made a speech at a banquet about the noble and +purifying mission of art. Assuredly he ought to have painted the portrait +of his father or grandfather as an artisan, to prove that he was not a +snob. But no! Not content with making each of his pictures utterly +different from all the others, he neglected all the above formalities--and +yet managed to pile triumph on triumph. There are some men of whom it may +be said that, like a punter on a good day, they can't do wrong. Priam Farll +was one such. In a few years he had become a legend, a standing side-dish +of a riddle. No one knew him; no one saw him; no one married him. +Constantly abroad, he was ever the subject of conflicting rumours. Parfitts +themselves, his London agents, knew naught of him but his handwriting--on +the backs of cheques in four figures. They sold an average of five large +and five small pictures for him every year. These pictures arrived out of +the unknown and the cheques went into the unknown.</p> + +<p>Young artists, mute in admiration before the masterpieces from his brush +which enriched all the national galleries of Europe (save, of course, that +in Trafalgar Square), dreamt of him, worshipped him, and quarrelled +fiercely about him, as the very symbol of glory, luxury and flawless +accomplishment, never conceiving him as a man like themselves, with boots +to lace up, a palette to clean, a beating heart, and an instinctive fear of +solitude.</p> + +<p>Finally there came to him the paramount distinction, the last proof that +he was appreciated. The press actually fell into the habit of mentioning +his name without explanatory comment. Exactly as it does not write "Mr. +A.J. Balfour, the eminent statesman," or "Sarah Bernhardt, the renowned +actress," or "Charles Peace, the historic murderer," but simply "Mr. A.J. +Balfour," "Sarah Bernhardt" or "Charles Peace"; so it wrote simply "Mr. +Priam Farll." And no occupant of a smoker in a morning train ever took his +pipe out of his mouth to ask, "What is the johnny?" Greater honour in +England hath no man. Priam Farll was the first English painter to enjoy +this supreme social reward.</p> + +<p>And now he was inhabiting the puce dressing-gown.</p> + + +<h2><i>The Dreadful Secret</i></h2> + + +<p>A bell startled the forlorn house; its loud old-fashioned jangle came +echoingly up the basement stairs and struck the ear of Priam Farll, who +half rose and then sat down again. He knew that it was an urgent summons to +the front door, and that none but he could answer it; and yet he +hesitated.</p> + +<p>Leaving Priam Farll, the great and wealthy artist, we return to that far +more interesting person, Priam Farll the private human creature; and come +at once to the dreadful secret of his character, the trait in him which +explained the peculiar circumstances of his life.</p> + +<p>As a private human creature, he happened to be shy.</p> + +<p>He was quite different from you or me. We never feel secret qualms at +the prospect of meeting strangers, or of taking quarters at a grand hotel, +or of entering a large house for the first time, or of walking across a +room full of seated people, or of dismissing a servant, or of arguing with +a haughty female aristocrat behind a post-office counter, or of passing a +shop where we owe money. As for blushing or hanging back, or even looking +awkward, when faced with any such simple, everyday acts, the idea of +conduct so childish would not occur to us. We behave naturally under all +circumstances--for why should a sane man behave otherwise? Priam Farll was +different. To call the world's attention visually to the fact of his own +existence was anguish to him. But in a letter he could be absolutely +brazen. Give him a pen and he was fearless.</p> + +<p>Now he knew that he would have to go and open the front door. Both +humanity and self-interest urged him to go instantly. For the visitant was +assuredly the doctor, come at last to see the sick man lying upstairs. The +sick man was Henry Leek, and Henry Leek was Priam Farll's bad habit. While +somewhat of a rascal (as his master guessed), Leek was a very perfect +valet. Like you and me, he was never shy. He always did the natural thing +naturally. He had become, little by little, indispensable to Priam Farll, +the sole means of living communication between Priam Farll and the universe +of men. The master's shyness, resembling a deer's, kept the pair almost +entirely out of England, and, on their continuous travels, the servant +invariably stood between that sensitive diffidence and the world. Leek saw +every one who had to be seen, and did everything that involved personal +contacts. And, being a bad habit, he had, of course, grown on Priam Farll, +and thus, year after year, for a quarter of a century, Farll's shyness, +with his riches and his glory, had increased. Happily Leek was never ill. +That is to say, he never had been ill, until this day of their sudden +incognito arrival in London for a brief sojourn. He could hardly have +chosen a more inconvenient moment; for in London of all places, in that +inherited house in Selwood Terrace which he so seldom used, Priam Farll +could not carry on daily life without him. It really was unpleasant and +disturbing in the highest degree, this illness of Leek's. The fellow had +apparently caught cold on the night-boat. He had fought the approaches of +insidious disease for several hours, going forth to make purchases and +incidentally consulting a doctor; and then, without warning, in the very +act of making up Farll's couch, he had abandoned the struggle, and, since +his own bed was not ready, he had taken to his master's. He always did the +natural thing naturally. And Farll had been forced to help him to +undress!</p> + +<p>From this point onwards Priam Farll, opulent though he was and +illustrious, had sunk to a tragic impotence. He could do nothing for +himself; and he could do nothing for Leek, because Leek refused both brandy +and sandwiches, and the larder consisted solely of brandy and sandwiches. +The man lay upstairs there, comatose, still, silent, waiting for the doctor +who had promised to pay an evening visit. And the summer day had darkened +into the summer night.</p> + +<p>The notion of issuing out into the world and personally obtaining food +for himself or aid for Leek, did genuinely seem to Priam Farll an +impossible notion; he had never done such things. For him a shop was an +impregnable fort garrisoned by ogres. Besides, it would have been necessary +to 'ask,' and 'asking' was the torture of tortures. So he had wandered, +solicitous and helpless, up and down the stairs, until at length Leek, +ceasing to be a valet and deteriorating into a mere human organism, had +feebly yet curtly requested to be just let alone, asserting that he was +right enough. Whereupon the envied of all painters, the symbol of artistic +glory and triumph, had assumed the valet's notorious puce dressing-gown and +established himself in a hard chair for a night of discomfort.</p> + +<p>The bell rang once more, and there was a sharp impressive knock that +reverberated through the forlorn house in a most portentous and terrifying +manner. It might have been death knocking. It engendered the horrible +suspicion, "Suppose he's <i>seriously</i> ill?" Priam Farll sprang up +nervously, braced to meet ringers and knockers.</p> + + +<h2><i>Cure for Shyness</i></h2> + + +<p>On the other side of the door, dressed in frock coat and silk hat, there +stood hesitating a tall, thin, weary man who had been afoot for exactly +twenty hours, in pursuit of his usual business of curing imaginary ailments +by means of medicine and suggestion, and leaving real ailments to nature +aided by coloured water. His attitude towards the medical profession was +somewhat sardonic, partly because he was convinced that only the gluttony +of South Kensington provided him with a livelihood, but more because his +wife and two fully-developed daughters spent too much on their frocks. For +years, losing sight of the fact that he was an immortal soul, they had been +treating him as a breakfast-in-the-slot machine: they put a breakfast in +the slot, pushed a button of his waistcoat, and drew out banknotes. For +this, he had neither partner, nor assistant, nor carriage, nor holiday: his +wife and daughters could not afford him these luxuries. He was able, +conscientious, chronically tired, bald and fifty. He was also, strange as +it may seem, shy; though indeed he had grown used to it, as a man gets used +to a hollow tooth or an eel to skinning. No qualities of the young girl's +heart about the heart of Dr. Cashmore! He really did know human nature, and +he never dreamt of anything more paradisaical than a Sunday Pullman +escapade to Brighton.</p> + +<p>Priam Farll opened the door which divided these two hesitating men, and +they saw each other by the light of the gas lamp (for the hall was in +darkness).</p> + +<p>"This Mr. Farll's?" asked Dr. Cashmore, with the unintentional asperity +of shyness.</p> + +<p>As for Priam, the revelation of his name by Leek shocked him almost into +a sweat. Surely the number of the house should have sufficed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he admitted, half shy and half vexed. "Are you the doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Dr. Cashmore stepped into the obscurity of the hall.</p> + +<p>"How's the invalid going on?"</p> + +<p>"I can scarcely tell you," said Priam. "He's in bed, very quiet."</p> + +<p>"That's right," said the doctor. "When he came to my surgery this +morning I advised him to go to bed."</p> + +<p>Then followed a brief awkward pause, during which Priam Farll coughed +and the doctor rubbed his hands and hummed a fragment of melody.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" the thought flashed through the mind of Farll. "This chap's +shy, I do believe!"</p> + +<p>And through the mind of the doctor, "Here's another of 'em, all +nerves!"</p> + +<p>They both instantly, from sheer good-natured condescension the one to +the other, became at ease. It was as if a spring had been loosed. Priam +shut the door and shut out the ray of the street lamp.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid there's no light here," said he.</p> + +<p>"I'll strike a match," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much," said Priam.</p> + +<p>The flare of a wax vesta illumined the splendours of the puce +dressing-gown. But Dr. Cashmore did not blench. He could flatter himself +that in the matter of dressing-gowns he had nothing to learn.</p> + +<p>"By the way, what's wrong with him, do you think?" Priam Farll inquired +in his most boyish voice.</p> + +<p>"Don't know. Chill! He had a loud cardiac murmur. Might be anything. +That's why I said I'd call anyhow to-night. Couldn't come any sooner. Been +on my feet since six o'clock this morning. You know what it is--G.P.'s +day."</p> + +<p>He smiled grimly in his fatigue.</p> + +<p>"It's very good of you to come," said Priam Farll with warm, vivacious +sympathy. He had an astonishing gift for imaginatively putting himself in +the place of other people.</p> + +<p>"Not at all!" the doctor muttered. He was quite touched. To hide the +fact that he was touched he struck a second match. "Shall we go +upstairs?"</p> + +<p>In the bedroom a candle was burning on a dusty and empty dressing-table. +Dr. Cashmore moved it to the vicinity of the bed, which was like an oasis +of decent arrangement in the desert of comfortless chamber; then he stooped +to examine the sick valet.</p> + +<p>"He's shivering!" exclaimed the doctor softly.</p> + +<p>Henry Leek's skin was indeed bluish, though, besides blankets, there was +a considerable apparatus of rugs on the bed, and the night was warm. His +ageing face (for he was the third man of fifty in that room) had an anxious +look. But he made no movement, uttered no word, at sight of the doctor; +just stared, dully. His own difficult breathing alone seemed to interest +him.</p> + +<p>"Any women up?"</p> + +<p>The doctor turned suddenly and fiercely on Priam Farll, who started.</p> + +<p>"There's only ourselves in the house," he replied.</p> + +<p>A person less experienced than Dr. Cashmore in the secret strangenesses +of genteel life in London might have been astonished by this information. +But Dr. Cashmore no more blenched now than he had blenched at the puce +garment.</p> + +<p>"Well, hurry up and get some hot water," said he, in a tone dictatorial +and savage. "Quick, now! And brandy! And more blankets! Now don't stand +there, please! Here! I'll go with you to the kitchen. Show me!" He snatched +up the candle, and the expression of his features said, "I can see you're +no good in a crisis."</p> + +<p>"It's all up with me, doctor," came a faint whisper from the bed.</p> + +<p>"So it is, my boy!" said the doctor under his breath as he tumbled +downstairs in the wake of Priam Farll. "Unless I get something hot into +you!"</p> + + +<h2><i>Master and Servant</i></h2> + + +<p>"Will there have to be an inquest?" Priam Farll asked at 6 a.m.</p> + +<p>He had collapsed in the hard chair on the ground-floor. The +indispensable Henry Leek was lost to him for ever. He could not imagine +what would happen to his existence in the future. He could not conceive +himself without Leek. And, still worse, the immediate prospect of unknown +horrors of publicity in connection with the death of Leek overwhelmed +him.</p> + +<p>"No!" said the doctor, cheerfully. "Oh no! I was present. Acute double +pneumonia! Sometimes happens like that! I can give a certificate. But of +course you will have to go to the registrar's and register the death."</p> + +<p>Even without an inquest, he saw that the affair would be unthinkably +distressing. He felt that it would kill him, and he put his hand to his +face.</p> + +<p>"Where are Mr. Farll's relatives to be found?" the doctor asked.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farll's relatives?" Priam Farll repeated without comprehending.</p> + +<p>Then he understood. Dr. Cashmore thought that Henry Leek's name was +Farll! And all the sensitive timidity in Priam Farll's character seized +swiftly at the mad chance of escape from any kind of public appearance as +Priam Farll. Why should he not let it be supposed that he, and not Henry +Leek, had expired suddenly in Selwood Terrace at 5 a.m. He would be free, +utterly free!</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the doctor. "They must be informed, naturally."</p> + +<p>Priam's mind ran rapidly over the catalogue of his family. He could +think of no one nearer than a certain Duncan Farll, a second cousin.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he had any," he replied in a voice that trembled with +excitement at the capricious rashness of what he was doing. "Perhaps there +were distant cousins. But Mr. Farll never talked of them."</p> + +<p>Which was true.</p> + +<p>He could scarcely articulate the words 'Mr Farll.' But when they were +out of his mouth he felt that the deed was somehow definitely done.</p> + +<p>The doctor gazed at Priam's hands, the rough, coarsened hands of a +painter who is always messing in oils and dust.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," said the doctor. "I presume you are his valet--or--"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Priam Farll.</p> + +<p>That set the seal.</p> + +<p>"What was your master's full name?" the doctor demanded.</p> + +<p>And Priam Farll shivered.</p> + +<p>"Priam Farll," said he weakly.</p> + +<p>"Not <i>the</i>--?" loudly exclaimed the doctor, whom the hazards of +life in London had at last staggered.</p> + +<p>Priam nodded.</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" The doctor gave vent to his feelings. The truth was that +this particular hazard of life in London pleased him, flattered him, made +him feel important in the world, and caused him to forget his fatigue and +his wrongs.</p> + +<p>He saw that the puce dressing-gown contained a man who was at the end of +his tether, and with that good nature of his which no hardships had been +able to destroy, he offered to attend to the preliminary formalities. Then +he went.</p> + + +<h2><i>A Month's Wages</i></h2> + + +<p>Priam Farll had no intention of falling asleep; his desire was to +consider the position which he had so rashly created for himself; but he +did fall asleep--and in the hard chair! He was awakened by a tremendous +clatter, as if the house was being bombarded and there were bricks falling +about his ears. When he regained all his senses this bombardment resolved +itself into nothing but a loud and continued assault on the front door. He +rose, and saw a frowsy, dishevelled, puce-coloured figure in the dirty +mirror over the fireplace. And then, with stiff limbs, he directed his +sleepy feet towards the door.</p> + +<p>Dr. Cashmore was at the door, and still another man of fifty, a +stern-set, blue-chinned, stoutish person in deep and perfect mourning, +including black gloves.</p> + +<p>This person gazed coldly at Priam Farll.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" ejaculated the mourner.</p> + +<p>And stepped in, followed by Dr. Cashmore.</p> + +<p>In achieving the inner mat the mourner perceived a white square on the +floor. He picked it up and carefully examined it, and then handed it to +Priam Farll.</p> + +<p>"I suppose this is for you," said he.</p> + +<p>Priam, accepting the envelope, saw that it was addressed to "Henry Leek, +Esq., 91 Selwood Terrace, S.W.," in a woman's hand.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> for you, isn't it?" pursued the mourner in an inflexible +voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Priam.</p> + +<p>"I am Mr. Duncan Farll, a solicitor, a cousin of your late employer," +the metallic voice continued, coming through a set of large, fine, white +teeth. "What arrangements have you made during the day?"</p> + +<p>Priam stammered: "None. I've been asleep."</p> + +<p>"You aren't very respectful," said Duncan Farll.</p> + +<p>So this was his second cousin, whom he had met, once only, as a boy! +Never would he have recognized Duncan. Evidently it did not occur to Duncan +to recognize him. People are apt to grow unrecognizable in the course of +forty years.</p> + +<p>Duncan Farll strode about the ground-floor of the house, and on the +threshold of each room ejaculated "Ah!" or "Ha!" Then he and the doctor +went upstairs. Priam remained inert, and excessively disturbed, in the +hall.</p> + +<p>At length Duncan Farll descended.</p> + +<p>"Come in here, Leek," said Duncan.</p> + +<p>And Priam meekly stepped after him into the room where the hard chair +was. Duncan Farll took the hard chair.</p> + +<p>"What are your wages?"</p> + +<p>Priam sought to remember how much he had paid Henry Leek.</p> + +<p>"A hundred a year," said he.</p> + +<p>"Ah! A good wage. When were you last paid?"</p> + +<p>Priam remembered that he had paid Leek two days ago.</p> + +<p>"The day before yesterday," said he.</p> + +<p>"I must say again you are not very respectful," Duncan observed, drawing +forth his pocket-book. "However, here is £8 7<i>s</i>., a month's +wages in lieu of notice. Put your things together, and go. I shall have no +further use for you. I will make no observations of any kind. But be good +enough to <i>dress</i>--it is three o'clock--and leave the house at once. +Let me see your box or boxes before you go."</p> + +<p>When, an hour later, in the gloaming, Priam Farll stood on the wrong +side of his own door, with Henry Leek's heavy kit-bag and Henry Leek's tin +trunk flanking him on either hand, he saw that events in his career were +moving with immense rapidity. He had wanted to be free, and free he was. +Quite free! But it appeared to him very remarkable that so much could +happen, in so short a time, as the result of a mere momentary impulsive +prevarication.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>A Pail</i></h2> + + +<p>Sticking out of the pocket of Leek's light overcoat was a folded copy of +the <i>Daily Telegraph</i>. Priam Farll was something of a dandy, and like +all right-thinking dandies and all tailors, he objected to the suave line +of a garment being spoilt by a free utilization of pockets. The overcoat +itself, and the suit beneath, were quite good; for, though they were the +property of the late Henry Leek, they perfectly fitted Priam Farll and had +recently belonged to him, Leek having been accustomed to clothe himself +entirely from his master's wardrobe. The dandy absently drew forth the +<i>Telegraph</i>, and the first thing that caught his eye was this: "A +beautiful private hotel of the highest class. Luxuriously furnished. +Visitor's comfort studied. Finest position in London. Cuisine a speciality. +Quiet. Suitable for persons of superior rank. Bathroom. Electric light. +Separate tables. No irritating extras. Single rooms from 2-1/2 guineas, +double from 4 guineas weekly. 250 Queen's Gate." And below this he saw +another piece of news: "Not a boarding-house. A magnificent mansion. Forty +bedrooms by Waring. Superb public saloons by Maple. Parisian chef. Separate +tables. Four bathrooms. Card-room, billiard-room, vast lounge. Young, +cheerful, musical society. Bridge (small). Special sanitation. Finest +position in London. No irritating extras. Single rooms from 2-1/2 guineas, +double from 4 guineas weekly. Phone 10,073 Western. Trefusis Mansion, +W."</p> + +<p>At that moment a hansom cab came ambling down Selwood Terrace.</p> + +<p>Impulsively he hailed it.</p> + +<p>"'Ere, guv'nor," said the cabman, seeing with an expert eye that Priam +Farll was unaccustomed to the manipulation of luggage. "Give this 'ere +Hackenschmidt a copper to lend ye a hand. You're only a light weight."</p> + +<p>A small and emaciated boy, with the historic remains of a cigarette in +his mouth, sprang like a monkey up the steps, and, not waiting to be asked, +snatched the trunk from Priam's hands. Priam gave him one of Leek's +sixpences for his feats of strength, and the boy spat generously on the +coin, at the same time, by a strange skill, clinging to the cigarette with +his lower lip. Then the driver lifted the reins with a noble gesture, and +Priam had to be decisive and get into the cab.</p> + +<p>"250 Queen's Gate," said he.</p> + +<p>As, keeping his head to one side to avoid the reins, he gave the +direction across the roof of the cab to the attentive cocked ear of the +cabman, he felt suddenly that he had regained his nationality, that he was +utterly English, in an atmosphere utterly English. The hansom was like home +after the wilderness.</p> + +<p>He had chosen 250 Queen's Gate because it appeared the abode of +tranquillity and discretion. He felt that he might sink into 250 Queen's +Gate as into a feather bed. The other palace intimidated him. It recalled +the terrors of a continental hotel. In his wanderings he had suffered much +from the young, cheerful and musical society of bright hotels, and bridge +(small) had no attraction for him.</p> + +<p>As the cab tinkled through canyons of familiar stucco, he looked further +at the <i>Telegraph</i>. He was rather surprised to find more than a column +of enticing palaces, each in the finest position in London; London, in +fact, seemed to be one unique, glorious position. And it was so welcome, so +receptive, so wishful to make a speciality of your comfort, your food, your +bath, your sanitation! He remembered the old boarding-houses of the +eighties. Now all was changed, for the better. The <i>Telegraph</i> was +full of the better, crammed and packed with tight columns of it. The better +burst aspiringly from the tops of columns on the first page and outsoared +the very title of the paper. He saw there, for instance, to the left of the +title, a new, refined tea-house in Piccadilly Circus, owned and managed by +gentlewomen, where you had real tea and real bread-and butter and real +cakes in a real drawing-room. It was astounding.</p> + +<p>The cab stopped.</p> + +<p>"Is this it?" he asked the driver.</p> + +<p>"This is 250, sir."</p> + +<p>And it was. But it did not resemble even a private hotel. It exactly +resembled a private house, narrow and tall and squeezed in between its +sister and its brother. Priam Farll was puzzled, till the solution occurred +to him. "Of course," he said to himself. "This is the quietude, the +discretion. I shall like this." He jumped down.</p> + +<p>"I'll keep you," he threw to the cabman, in the proper phrase (which he +was proud to recall from his youth), as though the cabman had been +something which he had ordered on approval.</p> + +<p>There were two bell-knobs. He pulled one, and waited for the portals to +open on discreet vistas of luxurious furniture. No response! Just as he was +consulting the <i>Telegraph</i> to make sure of the number, the door +silently swung back, and disclosed the figure of a middle-aged woman in +black silk, who regarded him with a stern astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Is this----?" he began, nervous and abashed by her formidable +stare.</p> + +<p>"Were you wanting rooms?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he. "I was. If I could just see----"</p> + +<p>"Will you come in?" she said. And her morose face, under stringent +commands from her brain, began an imitation of a smile which, as an +imitation, was wonderful. It made you wonder how she had ever taught her +face to do it.</p> + +<p>Priam Farll found himself blushing on a Turkey carpet, and a sort of +cathedral gloom around him. He was disconcerted, but the Turkey carpet +assured him somewhat. As his eyes grew habituated to the light he saw that +the cathedral was very narrow, and that instead of the choir was a +staircase, also clothed in Turkey carpet. On the lowest step reposed an +object whose nature he could not at first determine.</p> + +<p>"Would it be for long?" the lips opposite him muttered cautiously.</p> + +<p>His reply--the reply of an impulsive, shy nature--was to rush out of the +palace. He had identified the object on the stairs. It was a slop-pail with +a wrung cloth on its head.</p> + +<p>He felt profoundly discouraged and pessimistic. All his energy had left +him. London had become hard, hostile, cruel, impossible. He longed for Leek +with a great longing.</p> + + +<h2><i>Tea</i></h2> + + +<p>An hour later, having at the kind suggestion of the cabman deposited +Leek's goods at the cloak-room of South Kensington Station, he was +wandering on foot out of old London into the central ring of new London, +where people never do anything except take the air in parks, lounge in +club-windows, roll to and fro in peculiar vehicles that have ventured out +without horses and are making the best of it, buy flowers and Egyptian +cigarettes, look at pictures, and eat and drink. Nearly all the buildings +were higher than they used to be, and the street wider; and at intervals of +a hundred yards or so cranes that rent the clouds and defied the law of +gravity were continually swinging bricks and marble into the upper layers +of the air. Violets were on sale at every corner, and the atmosphere was +impregnated with an intoxicating perfume of methylated spirits. Presently +he arrived at an immense arched façade bearing principally the +legend 'Tea,' and he saw within hundreds of persons sipping tea; and next +to that was another arched façade bearing principally the word +'Tea,' and he saw within more hundreds sipping tea; and then another; and +then another; and then suddenly he came to an open circular place that +seemed vaguely familiar.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he said. "This is Piccadilly Circus!"</p> + +<p>And just at that moment, over a narrow doorway, he perceived the image +of a green tree, and the words, 'The Elm Tree.' It was the entrance to the +Elm Tree Tea Rooms, so well spoken of in the <i>Telegraph</i>. In certain +ways he was a man of advanced and humane ideas, and the thought of +delicately nurtured needy gentlewomen bravely battling with the world +instead of starving as they used to starve in the past, appealed to his +chivalry. He determined to assist them by taking tea in the advertised +drawing-room. Gathering together his courage, he penetrated into a corridor +lighted by pink electricity, and then up pink stairs. A pink door stopped +him at last. It might have hid mysterious and questionable things, but it +said laconically 'Push,' and he courageously pushed... He was in a kind of +boudoir thickly populated with tables and chairs. The swift transmigration +from the blatant street to a drawing-room had a startling effect on him: it +caused him to whip off his hat as though his hat had been red hot. Except +for two tall elegant creatures who stood together at the other end of the +boudoir, the chairs and tables had the place to themselves. He was about to +stammer an excuse and fly, when one of the gentlewomen turned her eye on +him for a moment, and so he sat down. The gentlewomen then resumed their +conversation. He glanced cautiously about him. Elm-trees, firmly rooted in +a border of Indian matting, grew round all the walls in exotic profusion, +and their topmost branches splashed over on to the ceiling. A card on the +trunk of a tree, announcing curtly, "Dogs not allowed," seemed to enhearten +him. After a pause one of the gentlewomen swam haughtily towards him and +looked him between the eyes. She spoke no word, but her firm, austere +glance said:</p> + +<p>"Now, out with it, and see you behave yourself!"</p> + +<p>He had been ready to smile chivalrously. But the smile was put to sudden +death.</p> + +<p>"Some tea, please," he said faintly, and his intimidated tone said, "If +it isn't troubling you too much."</p> + +<p>"What do you want with it?" asked the gentlewoman abruptly, and as he +was plainly at a loss she added, "Crumpets or tea-cake?"</p> + +<p>"Tea-cake," he replied, though he hated tea-cake. But he was afraid.</p> + +<p>"You've escaped this time," said the drapery of her muslins as she swam +from his sight. "But no nonsense while I'm away!"</p> + +<p>When she sternly and mutely thrust the refection before him, he found +that everything on the table except the tea-cakes and the spoon was growing +elm-trees.</p> + +<p>After one cup and one slice, when the tea had become stewed and +undrinkable, and the tea-cake a material suitable for the manufacture of +shooting boots, he resumed, at any rate partially, his presence of mind, +and remembered that he had done nothing positively criminal in entering the +boudoir or drawing-room and requesting food in return for money. Besides, +the gentlewomen were now pretending to each other that he did not exist, +and no other rash persons had been driven by hunger into the virgin forest +of elm-trees. He began to meditate, and his meditations taking--for him--an +unusual turn, caused him surreptitiously to examine Henry Leek's +pocket-book (previously only known to him by sight). He had not for many +years troubled himself concerning money, but the discovery that, when he +had paid for the deposit of luggage at the cloak-room, a solitary sovereign +rested in the pocket of Leek's trousers, had suggested to him that it would +be advisable sooner or later to consider the financial aspect of +existence.</p> + +<p>There were two banknotes for ten pounds each in Leek's pocket-book; also +five French banknotes of a thousand francs each, and a number of Italian +banknotes of small denominations: the equivalent of two hundred and thirty +pounds altogether, not counting a folded inch-rule, some postage stamps, +and a photograph of a pleasant-faced woman of forty or so. This sum seemed +neither vast nor insignificant to Priam Farll. It seemed to him merely a +tangible something which would enable him to banish the fiscal question +from his mind for an indefinite period. He scarcely even troubled to wonder +what Leek was doing with over two years of Leek's income in his +pocket-book. He knew, or at least he with certainty guessed, that Leek had +been a rascal. Still, he had had a sort of grim, cynical affection for +Leek. And the thought that Leek would never again shave him, nor tell him +in accents that brooked no delay that his hair must be cut, nor register +his luggage and secure his seat on long-distance expresses, filled him with +very real melancholy. He did not feel sorry for Leek, nor say to himself +"Poor Leek!" Nobody who had had the advantage of Leek's acquaintance would +have said "Poor Leek!" For Leek's greatest speciality had always been the +speciality of looking after Leek, and wherever Leek might be it was a +surety that Leek's interests would not suffer. Therefore Priam Farll's pity +was mainly self-centred.</p> + +<p>And though his dignity had been considerably damaged during the final +moments at Selwood Terrace, there was matter for congratulation. The +doctor, for instance, had shaken hands with him at parting; had shaken +hands openly, in the presence of Duncan Farll: a flattering tribute to his +personality. But the chief of Priam Farll's satisfactions in that desolate +hour was that he had suppressed himself, that for the world he existed no +more. I shall admit frankly that this satisfaction nearly outweighed his +grief. He sighed--and it was a sigh of tremendous relief. For now, by a +miracle, he would be free from the menace of Lady Sophia Entwistle. Looking +back in calmness at the still recent Entwistle episode in Paris--the real +originating cause of his sudden flight to London--he was staggered by his +latent capacity for downright, impulsive foolishness. Like all shy people +he had fits of amazing audacity--and his recklessness usually took the form +of making himself agreeable to women whom he encountered in travel (he was +much less shy with women than with men). But to propose marriage to a +weather-beaten haunter of hotels like Lady Sophia Entwistle, and to reveal +his identity to her, and to allow her to accept his proposal--the thing had +been unimaginably inept!</p> + +<p>And now he was free, for he was dead.</p> + +<p>He was conscious of a chill in the spine as he dwelt on the awful fate +which he had escaped. He, a man of fifty, a man of set habits, a man +habituated to the liberty of the wild stag, to bow his proud neck under the +solid footwear of Lady Sophia Entwistle!</p> + +<p>Yes, there was most decidedly a silver lining to the dark cloud of +Leek's translation to another sphere of activity.</p> + +<p>In replacing the pocket-book his hand encountered the letter which had +arrived for Leek in the morning. Arguing with himself whether he ought to +open it, he opened it. It ran: "Dear Mr. Leek, I am so glad to have your +letter, and I think the photograph is most gentlemanly. But I do wish you +would not write with a typewriter. You don't know how this affects a woman, +or you wouldn't do it. However, I shall be so glad to meet you now, as you +suggest. Suppose we go to Maskelyne and Cook's together to-morrow afternoon +(Saturday). You know it isn't the Egyptian Hall any more. It is in St. +George's Hall, I think. But you will see it in the <i>Telegraph</i>; also +the time. I will be there when the doors open. You will recognize me from +my photograph; but I shall wear red roses in my hat. So <i>au revoir</i> +for the present. Yours sincerely, Alice Challice. P.S.--There are always a +lot of dark parts at Maskelyne and Cook's. I must ask you to behave as a +gentleman should. Excuse me. I merely mention it in case.--A. C."</p> + +<p>Infamous Leek! Here was at any rate one explanation of a mysterious +little typewriter which the valet had always carried, but which Priam had +left at Selwood Terrace.</p> + +<p>Priam glanced at the photograph in the pocket-book; and also, strange to +say, at the <i>Telegraph</i>.</p> + +<p>A lady with three children burst into the drawing-room, and instantly +occupied the whole of it; the children cried "Mathaw!" "Mathah!" "Mathaw!" +in shrill tones of varied joy. As one of the gentlewomen passed near him, +he asked modestly--</p> + +<p>"How much, please?"</p> + +<p>She dropped a flake of paper on to his table without arresting her +course, and said warningly:</p> + +<p>"You pay at the desk."</p> + +<p>When he hit on the desk, which was hidden behind a screen of elm-trees, +he had to face a true aristocrat--and not in muslins, either. If the others +were the daughters of earls, this was the authentic countess in a +tea-gown.</p> + +<p>He put down Leek's sovereign.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you anything smaller?" snapped the countess.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry I haven't," he replied.</p> + +<p>She picked up the sovereign scornfully, and turned it over.</p> + +<p>"It's very awkward," she muttered.</p> + +<p>Then she unlocked two drawers, and unwillingly gave him eighteen and +sixpence in silver and copper, without another word and without looking at +him.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said he, pocketing it nervously.</p> + +<p>And, amid reiterated cries of "Mathah!" "Mathaw!" "Mathah!" he hurried +away, unregarded, unregretted, splendidly repudiated by these delicate +refined creatures who were struggling for a livelihood in a great city.</p> + + +<h2><i>Alice Challice</i></h2> + + +<p>"I suppose you are Mr. Leek, aren't you?" a woman greeted him as he +stood vaguely hesitant outside St. George's Hall, watching the afternoon +audience emerge. He started back, as though the woman with her trace of +Cockney accent had presented a revolver at his head. He was very much +afraid. It may reasonably be asked what he was doing up at St. George's +Hall. The answer to this most natural question touches the deepest springs +of human conduct. There were two men in Priam Farll. One was the shy man, +who had long ago persuaded himself that he actually preferred not to mix +with his kind, and had made a virtue of his cowardice. The other was a +doggish, devil-may-care fellow who loved dashing adventures and had a +perfect passion for free intercourse with the entire human race. No. 2 +would often lead No. 1 unsuspectingly forward to a difficult situation from +which No. 1, though angry and uncomfortable, could not retire.</p> + +<p>Thus it was No. 2 who with the most casual air had wandered up Regent +Street, drawn by the slender chance of meeting a woman with red roses in +her hat; and it was No. 1 who had to pay the penalty. Nobody could have +been more astonished than No. 2 at the fulfillment of No. 2's secret +yearning for novelty. But the innocent sincerity of No. 2's astonishment +gave no aid to No. 1.</p> + +<p>Farll raised his hat, and at the same moment perceived the roses. He +might have denied the name of Leek and fled, but he did not. Though his +left leg was ready to run, his right leg would not stir.</p> + +<p>Then he was shaking hands with her. But how had she identified him?</p> + +<p>"I didn't really expect you," said the lady, always with a slight +Cockney accent. "But I thought how silly it would be for me to miss the +vanishing trick just because you couldn't come. So in I went, by +myself."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you expect me?" he asked diffidently.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "Mr. Farll being dead, I knew you'd have a lot to do, +besides being upset like."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," he said quickly, feeling that he must be more careful; for he +had quite forgotten that Mr. Farll was dead. "How did you know?"</p> + +<p>"How did I know!" she cried. "Well, I like that! Look anywhere! It's all +over London, has been these six hours." She pointed to a ragged man who was +wearing an orange-coloured placard by way of apron. On the placard was +printed in large black letters: "Sudden death of Priam Farll in London. +Special Memoir." Other ragged men, also wearing aprons, but of different +colours, similarly proclaimed by their attire that Priam Farll was dead. +And people crowding out of St. George's Hall were continually buying +newspapers from these middlemen of tidings.</p> + +<p>He blushed. It was singular that he could have walked even half-an-hour +in Central London without noticing that his own name flew in the summer +breeze of every street. But so it had been. He was that sort of man. Now he +understood how Duncan Farll had descended upon Selwood Terrace.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you didn't <i>see</i> those posters?" she +demanded.</p> + +<p>"I didn't," he said simply.</p> + +<p>"That shows how you must have been thinking!" said she. "Was he a good +master?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, very good," said Priam Farll with conviction.</p> + +<p>"I see you're not in mourning."</p> + +<p>"No. That is----"</p> + +<p>"I don't hold with mourning myself," she proceeded. "They say it's to +show respect. But it seems to me that if you can't show your respect +without a pair of black gloves that the dye's always coming off... I don't +know what you think, but I never did hold with mourning. It's grumbling +against Providence, too! Not but what I think there's a good deal too much +talk about Providence. I don't know what you think, but----"</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with you," he said, with a warm generous smile which +sometimes rushed up and transformed his face before he was aware of the +occurrence.</p> + +<p>And she smiled also, gazing at him half confidentially. She was a little +woman, stoutish--indeed, stout; puffy red cheeks; a too remarkable white +cotton blouse; and a crimson skirt that hung unevenly; grey cotton gloves; +a green sunshade; on the top of all this the black hat with red roses. The +photograph in Leek's pocket-book must have been taken in the past. She +looked quite forty-five, whereas the photograph indicated thirty-nine and a +fraction. He gazed down at her protectively, with a good-natured +appreciative condescension.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you'll have to be going back again soon, to arrange things +like," she said. It was always she who kept the conversation afloat.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "I've finished there. They've dismissed me."</p> + +<p>"Who have?"</p> + +<p>"The relatives."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I hope you made them pay you your month," said she firmly.</p> + +<p>He was glad to be able to give a satisfactory answer.</p> + +<p>After a pause she resumed bravely:</p> + +<p>"So Mr. Farll was one of these artists? At least so I see according to +the paper."</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"It's a very funny business," she said. "But I suppose there's some of +them make quite a nice income out of it. <i>You</i> ought to know about +that, being in it, as it were."</p> + +<p>Never in his life had he conversed on such terms with such a person as +Mrs. Alice Challice. She was in every way a novelty for him--in clothes, +manners, accent, deportment, outlook on the world and on paint. He had +heard and read of such beings as Mrs. Alice Challice, and now he was in +direct contact with one of them. The whole affair struck him as excessively +odd, as a mad escapade on his part. Wisdom in him deemed it ridiculous to +prolong the encounter, but shy folly could not break loose. Moreover she +possessed the charm of her novelty; and there was that in her which +challenged the male in him.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I suppose we can't stand here for ever!"</p> + +<p>The crowd had frittered itself away, and an attendant was closing and +locking the doors of St. George's Hall. He coughed.</p> + +<p>"It's a pity it's Saturday and all the shops closed. But anyhow suppose +we walk along Oxford Street all the same? Shall we?" This from her.</p> + +<p>"By all means."</p> + +<p>"Now there's one thing I should like to say," she murmured with a calm +smile as they moved off. "You've no occasion to be shy with me. There's no +call for it. I'm just as you see me."</p> + +<p>"Shy!" he exclaimed, genuinely surprised. "Do I seem shy to you?" He +thought he had been magnificently doggish.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," she said. "That's all right, then, if you <i>aren't.</i> I +should take it as a poor compliment, being shy with me. Where do you think +we can have a good talk? I'm free for the evening. I don't know about +you."</p> + +<p>Her eyes questioned his.</p> + + +<h2><i>No Gratuities</i></h2> + + +<p>At a late hour, they were entering, side by side, a glittering +establishment whose interior seemed to be walled chiefly in bevelled glass, +so that everywhere the curious observer saw himself and twisted fractions +of himself. The glass was relieved at frequent intervals by elaborate +enamelled signs which repeated, 'No gratuities.' It seemed that the +directors of the establishment wished to make perfectly clear to visitors +that, whatever else they might find, they must on no account expect +gratuities.</p> + +<p>"I've always wanted to come here," said Mrs. Alice Challice vivaciously, +glancing up at Priam Farll's modest, middle-aged face.</p> + +<p>Then, after they had successfully passed through a preliminary pair of +bevelled portals, a huge man dressed like a policeman, and achieving a very +successful imitation of a policeman, stretched out his hand, and stopped +them.</p> + +<p>"In line, please," he said.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was a restaurant, not a theatre," Priam whispered to Mrs. +Challice.</p> + +<p>"So it is a restaurant," said his companion. "But I hear they're obliged +to do like this because there's always such a crowd. It's very 'andsome, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>He agreed that it was. He felt that London had got a long way in front +of him and that he would have to hurry a great deal before he could catch +it up.</p> + +<p>At length another imitation of a policeman opened more doors and, with +other sinners, they were released from purgatory into a clattering +paradise, which again offered everything save gratuities. They were +conducted to a small table full of dirty plates and empty glasses in a +corner of the vast and lofty saloon. A man in evening dress whose eye said, +"Now mind, no insulting gratuities!" rushed past the table and in one deft +amazing gesture swept off the whole of its contents and was gone with them. +It was an astounding feat, and when Priam recovered from his amazement he +fell into another amazement on discovering that by some magic means the man +in evening dress had insinuated a gold-charactered menu into his hands. +This menu was exceedingly long--it comprised everything except +gratuities--and, evidently knowing from experience that it was not a +document to be perused and exhausted in five minutes, the man in evening +dress took care not to interrupt the studies of Priam Farll and Alice +Challice during a full quarter of an hour. Then he returned like a bolt, +put them through an examination in the menu, and fled, and when he was gone +they saw that the table was set with a clean cloth and instruments and +empty glasses. A band thereupon burst into gay strains, like the band at a +music-hall after something very difficult on the horizontal bar. And it +played louder and louder; and as it played louder, so the people talked +louder. And the crash of cymbals mingled with the crash of plates, and the +altercations of knives and forks with the shrill accents of chatterers +determined to be heard. And men in evening dress (a costume which seemed to +be forbidden to sitters at tables) flitted to and fro with inconceivable +rapidity, austere, preoccupied conjurers. And from every marble wall, +bevelled mirror, and Doric column, there spoke silently but insistently the +haunting legend, 'No gratuities.'</p> + +<p>Thus Priam Farll began his first public meal in modern London. He knew +the hotels; he knew the restaurants, of half-a-dozen countries, but he had +never been so overwhelmed as he was here. Remembering London as a city of +wooden chop-houses, he could scarcely eat for the thoughts that surged +through his brain.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it amusing?" said Mrs. Challice benignantly, over a glass of +lager. "I'm so glad you brought me here. I've always wanted to come."</p> + +<p>And then, a few minutes afterwards, she was saying, against the immense +din--</p> + +<p>"You know, I've been thinking for years of getting married again. And if +you really <i>are</i> thinking of getting married, what are you to do? You +may sit in a chair and wait till eggs are sixpence a dozen, and you'll be +no nearer. You must do something. And what is there except a matrimonial +agency? I say--what's the matter with a matrimonial agency, anyhow? If you +want to get married, you want to get married, and it's no use pretending +you don't. I do hate pretending, I do. No shame in wanting to get married, +is there? I think a matrimonial agency is a very good, useful thing. They +say you're swindled. Well, those that are deserve to be. You can be +swindled without a matrimonial agency, seems to me. Not that I've ever +been. Plain common-sense people never are. No, if you ask me, matrimonial +agencies are the most sensible things--after dress-shields--that's ever +been invented. And I'm sure if anything comes of this, I shall pay the fees +with the greatest pleasure. Now don't you agree with me?"</p> + +<p>The whole mystery stood explained.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely!" he said.</p> + +<p>And felt the skin creeping in the small of his back.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>The Photograph</i></h2> + + +<p>From the moment of Mrs. Challice's remarks in favour of matrimonial +agencies Priam Farll's existence became a torture to him. She was what he +had always been accustomed to think of as "a very decent woman"; but +really...! The sentence is not finished because Priam never finished it in +his own mind. Fifty times he conducted the sentence as far as 'really,' and +there it dissolved into an uncomfortable cloud.</p> + +<p>"I suppose we shall have to be going," said she, when her ice had been +eaten and his had melted.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he, and added to himself, "But where?"</p> + +<p>However, it would be a relief to get out of the restaurant, and he +called for the bill.</p> + +<p>While they were waiting for the bill the situation grew more strained. +Priam was aware of a desire to fling down sovereigns on the table and rush +wildly away. Even Mrs. Challice, vaguely feeling this, had a difficulty in +conversing.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> like your photograph!" she remarked, glancing at his +face which--it should be said--had very much changed within half-an-hour. +He had a face capable of a hundred expressions per day. His present +expression was one of his anxious expressions, medium in degree. It can be +figured in the mask of a person who is locked up in an iron strongroom, +and, feeling ill at ease, notices that the walls are getting red-hot at the +corners.</p> + +<p>"Like my photograph?" he exclaimed, astonished that he should resemble +Leek's photograph.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she asseverated stoutly. "I knew you at once. Especially by the +nose."</p> + +<p>"Have you got it here?" he asked, interested to see what portrait of +Leek had a nose like his own.</p> + +<p>And she pulled out of her handbag a photograph, not of Leek, but of +Priam Farll. It was an unmounted print of a negative which he and Leek had +taken together for the purposes of a pose in a picture, and it had +decidedly a distinguished appearance. But why should Leek dispatch +photographs of his master to strange ladies introduced through a +matrimonial agency? Priam Farll could not imagine--unless it was from sheer +unscrupulous, careless bounce.</p> + +<p>She gazed at the portrait with obvious joy.</p> + +<p>"Now, candidly, don't <i>you</i> think it's very, very good?" she +demanded.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is," he agreed. He would probably have given two hundred +pounds for the courage to explain to her in a few well-chosen words that +there had been a vast mistake, a huge impulsive indiscretion. But two +hundred thousand pounds would not have bought that courage.</p> + +<p>"I love it," she ejaculated fervently--with heat, and yet so nicely! And +she returned the photograph to her little bag.</p> + +<p>She lowered her voice.</p> + +<p>"You haven't told me whether you were ever married. I've been waiting +for that."</p> + +<p>He blushed. She was disconcertingly personal.</p> + +<p>"No," he said.</p> + +<p>"And you've always lived like that, alone like; no home; travelling +about; no one to look after you, properly?" There was distress in her +voice.</p> + +<p>He nodded. "One gets accustomed to it."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," she said. "I can understand that."</p> + +<p>"No responsibilities," he added.</p> + +<p>"No. I can understand all that." Then she hesitated. "But I do feel so +sorry for you... all these years!"</p> + +<p>And her eyes were moist, and her tone was so sincere that Priam Farll +found it quite remarkably affecting. Of course she was talking about Henry +Leek, the humble valet, and not about Leek's illustrious master. But Priam +saw no difference between his lot and that of Leek. He felt that there was +no essential difference, and that, despite Leek's multiple perfections as a +valet, he never had been looked after--properly. Her voice made him feel +just as sorry for himself as she was sorry for him; it made him feel that +she had a kind heart, and that a kind heart was the only thing on earth +that really mattered. Ah! If Lady Sophia Entwistle had spoken to him in +such accents...!</p> + +<p>The bill came. It was so small that he was ashamed to pay it. The +suppression of gratuities enabled the monarch of this bevelled palace to +offer a complete dinner for about the same price as a thimbleful of tea and +ten drachms of cake a few yards away. Happily the monarch, foreseeing his +shame, had arranged a peculiar method of payment through a little hole, +where the receiver could see nothing but his blushing hands. As for the +conjurers in evening dress, they apparently never soiled themselves by +contact with specie.</p> + +<p>Outside on the pavement, he was at a loss what to do. You see, he was +entirely unfamiliar with Mrs. Challice's code of etiquette.</p> + +<p>"Would you care to go to the Alhambra or somewhere?" he suggested, +having a notion that this was the correct thing to say to a lady whose +presence near you was directly due to her desire for marriage.</p> + +<p>"It's very good of you," said she. "But I'm sure you only say it out of +kindness--because you're a gentleman. It wouldn't be quite nice for you to +go to a music-hall to-night. I know I said I was free for the evening, but +I wasn't thinking. It wasn't a hint--no, truly! I think I shall go +home--and perhaps some other----"</p> + +<p>"I shall see you home," said he quickly. Impulsive, again!</p> + +<p>"Would you really like to? Can you?" In the bluish glare of an +electricity that made the street whiter than day, she blushed. Yes, she +blushed like a girl.</p> + +<p>She led him up a side-street where was a kind of railway station +unfamiliar to Priam Farll's experience, tiled like a butcher's shop and as +clean as Holland. Under her direction he took tickets for a station whose +name he had never heard of, and then they passed through steel railings +which clacked behind them into a sort of safe deposit, from which the only +emergence was a long dim tunnel. Painted hands, pointing to the mysterious +word 'lifts,' waved you onwards down this tunnel. "Hurry up, please," came +a voice out of the spectral gloom. Mrs. Challice thereupon ran. Now up the +tunnel, opposing all human progress there blew a steady trade-wind of +tremendous force. Immediately Priam began to run the trade-wind removed his +hat, which sailed buoyantly back towards the street. He was after it like a +youth of twenty, and he recaptured it. But when he reached the extremity of +the tunnel his amazed eyes saw nothing but a great cage of human animals +pressed tightly together behind bars. There Was a click, and the whole cage +sank from his sight into the earth.</p> + +<p>He felt that there was more than he had dreamt of in the city of +miracles. In a couple of minutes another cage rose into the tunnel at a +different point, vomited its captives and descended swiftly again with +Priam and many others, and threw him and the rest out into a white mine +consisting of numberless galleries. He ran about these interminable +galleries underneath London, at the bidding of painted hands, for a +considerable time, and occasionally magic trains without engines swept +across his vision. But he could not find even the spirit of Mrs. Alice +Challice in this nether world.</p> + + +<h2><i>The Nest</i></h2> + + +<p>On letter-paper headed "Grand Babylon Hotel, London," he was writing in +a disguised backward hand a note to the following effect: "Duncan Farll, +Esq. Sir,--If any letters or telegrams arrive for me at Selwood Terrace, be +good enough to have them forwarded to me at once to the above +address.--Yours truly, H. Leek." It cost him something to sign the name of +the dead man; but he instinctively guessed that Duncan Farll might be a +sieve which (owing to its legal-mindedness) would easily get clogged up +even by a slight suspicion. Hence, in order to be sure of receiving a +possible letter or telegram from Mrs. Challice, he must openly label +himself as Henry Leek. He had lost Mrs. Challice; there was no address on +her letter; he only knew that she lived at or near Putney, and the sole +hope of finding her again lay in the fact that she had the Selwood Terrace +address. He wanted to find her again; he desired that ardently, if merely +to explain to her that their separation was due to a sudden caprice of his +hat, and that he had searched for her everywhere in the mine, anxiously, +desperately. She would surely not imagine that he had slipped away from her +on purpose? No! And yet, if incapable of such an enormity, why had she not +waited for him on one of the platforms? However, he hoped for the best. The +best was a telegram; the second-best a letter. On receipt of which he would +fly to her to explain.... And besides, he wanted to see her--simply. Her +answer to his suggestion of a music-hall, and the tone of it, had impressed +him. And her remark, "I do feel so sorry for you all these years," +had--well, somewhat changed his whole outlook on life. Yes, he wanted to +see her in order to satisfy himself that he had her respect. A woman +impossible socially, a woman with strange habits and tricks of manner (no +doubt there were millions such); but a woman whose respect one would not +forfeit without a struggle!</p> + +<p>He had been pushed to an extremity, forced to act with swiftness, upon +losing her. And he had done the thing that comes most naturally to a +life-long traveller. He had driven to the best hotel in the town. (He had +seen in a flash that the idea of inhabiting any private hotel whatever was +a silly idea.) And now he was in a large bedroom over-looking the Thames--a +chamber with a writing-desk, a sofa, five electric lights, two easy-chairs, +a telephone, electric bells, and a massive oak door with a lock and a key +in the lock; in short, his castle! An enterprise of some daring to storm +the castle: but he had stormed it. He had registered under the name of +Leek, a name sufficiently common not to excite remark, and the floor-valet +had proved to be an admirable young man. He trusted to the floor-valet and +to the telephone for avoiding any rough contact with the world. He felt +comparatively safe now; the entire enormous hotel was a nest for his +shyness, a conspiracy to keep him in cotton-wool. He was an autocratic +number, absolute ruler over Room 331, and with the right to command the +almost limitless resources of the Grand Babylon for his own private +ends.</p> + +<p>As he sealed the envelope he touched a bell.</p> + +<p>The valet entered.</p> + +<p>"You've got the evening papers?" asked Priam Farll.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." The valet put a pile of papers respectfully on the desk.</p> + +<p>"All of them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. Well, it's not too late to have a messenger, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh <i>no</i>, sir." ("'Too late' in the Grand Babylon, oh Czar!" said +the valet's shocked tone.)</p> + +<p>"Then please get a messenger to take this letter, at once."</p> + +<p>"In a cab, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in a cab. I don't know whether there will be an answer. He will +see. Then let him call at the cloak-room at South Kensington Station and +get my luggage. Here's the ticket."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>"I can rely on you to see that he goes at once?"</p> + +<p>"You can, sir," said the valet, in such accents as carry absolute +conviction.</p> + +<p>"Thank you. That will do, I think."</p> + +<p>The man retired, and the door was closed by an expert in closing doors, +one who had devoted his life to the perfection of detail in valetry.</p> + + +<h2><i>Fame</i></h2> + + +<p>He lay on the sofa at the foot of the bed, with all illumination +extinguished save one crimson-shaded light immediately above him. The +evening papers--white, green, rose, cream, and yellow--shared his couch. He +was about to glance at the obituaries; to glance at them in a careless, +condescending way, just to see the <i>sort</i> of thing that journalists +had written of him. He knew the value of obituaries; he had often smiled at +them. He knew also the exceeding fatuity of art criticism, which did not +cause him even to smile, being simply a bore. He recollected, further, that +he was not the first man to read his own obituary; the adventure had +happened to others; and he could recall how, on his having heard that owing +to an error it had happened to the great so-and-so, he, in his quality of +philosopher, had instantly decided what frame of mind the great so-and-so +ought to have assumed for the perusal of his biography. He carefully and +deliberately adopted that frame of mind now. He thought of Marcus Aurelius +on the futility of fame; he remembered his life-long attitude of gentle, +tired scorn for the press; he reflected with wise modesty that in art +nothing counts but the work itself, and that no quantity of inept chatter +could possibly affect, for good or evil, his value, such as it might be, to +the world.</p> + +<p>Then he began to open the papers.</p> + +<p>The first glimpse of their contents made him jump. In fact, the physical +result of it was quite extraordinary. His temperature increased. His heart +became audible. His pulse quickened. And there was a tingling as far off as +his toes. He had felt, in a dim, unacknowledged way, that he must be a +pretty great painter. Of course his prices were notorious. And he had +guessed, though vaguely, that he was the object of widespread curiosity. +But he had never compared himself with Titanic figures on the planet. It +had always seemed to him that <i>his</i> renown was different from other +renowns, less--somehow unreal and make-believe. He had never imaginatively +grasped, despite prices and public inquisitiveness, that he too was one of +the Titanic figures. He grasped it now. The aspect of the papers brought it +home to him with tremendous force.</p> + +<p>Special large type! Titles stretching across two columns! Black borders +round the pages! "Death of England's greatest painter." "Sudden death of +Priam Farll." "Sad death of a great genius." "Puzzling career prematurely +closed." "Europe in mourning." "Irreparable loss to the world's art." "It +is with the most profound regret." "Our readers will be shocked." "The news +will come as a personal blow to every lover of great painting." So the +papers went on, outvying each other in enthusiastic grief.</p> + +<p>He ceased to be careless and condescending to them. The skin crept along +his spine. There he lay, solitary, under the crimson glow, locked in his +castle, human, with the outward semblance of a man like other men, and yet +the cities of Europe were weeping for him. He heard them weeping. Every +lover of great painting was under a sense of personal bereavement. The very +voice of the world was hushed. After all, it was something to have done +your best; after all, good stuff <i>was</i> appreciated by the mass of the +race. The phenomena presented by the evening papers was certainly +prodigious, and prodigiously affecting. Mankind was unpleasantly stunned by +the report of his decease. He forgot that Mrs. Challice, for instance, had +perfectly succeeded in hiding her grief for the irreparable loss, and that +her questions about Priam Farll had been almost perfunctory. He forgot that +he had witnessed absolutely no sign of overwhelming sorrow, or of any +degree of sorrow, in the thoroughfares of the teeming capital, and that the +hotels did not resound to sobbing. He knew only that all Europe was in +mourning!</p> + +<p>"I suppose I was rather wonderful--<i>am</i>, I mean"--he said to +himself, dazed and happy. Yes, happy. "The fact is, I've got so used to my +own work that perhaps I don't think enough of it." He said this as modestly +as he could.</p> + +<p>There was no question now of casually glancing at the obituaries. He +could not miss a single line, a single word. He even regretted that the +details of his life were so few and unimportant. It seemed to him that it +was the business of the journalists to have known more, to have displayed +more enterprise in acquiring information. Still, the tone was right. The +fellows meant well, at any rate. His eyes encountered nothing but praise. +Indeed the press of London had yielded itself up to an encomiastic orgy. +His modesty tried to say that this was slightly overdone; but his +impartiality asked, "Really, what <i>could</i> they say against me?" As a +rule unmitigated praise was nauseous but here they were undoubtedly +genuine, the fellows; their sentences rang true!</p> + +<p>Never in his life had he been so satisfied with the scheme of the +universe! He was nearly consoled for the dissolution of Leek.</p> + +<p>When, after continued reading, he came across a phrase which discreetly +insinuated, apropos of the policeman and the penguins, that capriciousness +in the choice of subject was perhaps a pose with him, the accusation +hurt.</p> + +<p>"Pose!" he inwardly exclaimed. "What a lie! The man's an ass!"</p> + +<p>And he resented the following remark which concluded a 'special memoir' +extremely laudatory in matter and manner, by an expert whose books he had +always respected: "However, contemporary judgments are in the large +majority of cases notoriously wrong, and it behooves us to remember this in +choosing a niche for our idol. Time alone can settle the ultimate position +of Priam Farll."</p> + +<p>Useless for his modesty to whisper to him that contemporary judgments +<i>were</i> notoriously wrong. He did not like it. It disturbed him. There +were exceptions to every rule. And if the connoisseur meant anything at +all, he was simply stultifying the rest of the article. Time be d----d!</p> + +<p>He had come nearly to the last line of the last obituary before he was +finally ruffled. Most of the sheets, in excusing the paucity of +biographical detail, had remarked that Priam Farll was utterly unknown to +London society, of a retiring disposition, hating publicity, a recluse, +etc. The word "recluse" grated on his sensitiveness a little; but when the +least important of the evening papers roundly asserted it to be notorious +that he was of extremely eccentric habits, he grew secretly furious. +Neither his modesty nor his philosophy was influential enough to restore +him to complete calm.</p> + +<p>Eccentric! He! What next? Eccentric, indeed!</p> + +<p>Now, what conceivable justification------?</p> + + +<h2><i>The Ruling Classes</i></h2> + + +<p>Between a quarter-past and half-past eleven he was seated alone at a +small table in the restaurant of the Grand Babylon. He had had no news of +Mrs. Challice; she had not instantly telegraphed to Selwood Terrace, as he +had wildly hoped. But in the boxes of Henry Leek, safely retrieved by the +messenger from South Kensington Station, he had discovered one of his old +dress-suits, not too old, and this dress-suit he had donned. The desire to +move about unknown in the well-clad world, the world of the frequenters of +costly hotels, the world to which he was accustomed, had overtaken him. +Moreover, he felt hungry. Hence he had descended to the famous restaurant, +whose wide windows were flung open to the illuminated majesty of the Thames +Embankment. The pale cream room was nearly full of expensive women, and +expending men, and silver-chained waiters whose skilled, noiseless, inhuman +attentions were remunerated at the rate of about four-pence a minute. +Music, the midnight food of love, floated scarce heard through the tinted +atmosphere. It was the best imitation of Roman luxury that London could +offer, and after Selwood Terrace and the rackety palace of no gratuities, +Priam Farll enjoyed it as one enjoys home after strange climes.</p> + +<p>Next to his table was an empty table, set for two, to which were +presently conducted, with due state, a young man, and a magnificent woman +whose youth was slipping off her polished shoulders like a cloak. Priam +Farll then overheard the following conversation:--</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Well, what are you going to have?</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: But look here, little Charlie, you can't possibly afford +to pay for this!</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Never said I could. It's the paper that pays. So go +ahead.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Is Lord Nasing so keen as all that?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: It isn't Lord Nasing. It's our brand new editor specially +imported from Chicago.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Will he last?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: He'll last a hundred nights, say as long as the run of your +piece. Then he'll get six months' screw and the boot.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: How much is six months' screw?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Three thousand.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Well, I can hardly earn that myself.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Neither can I. But then you see we weren't born in +Chicago.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: I've been offered a thousand dollars a week to go there, +anyhow.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Why didn't you tell me that for the interview? I've spent +two entire entr'actes in trying to get something interesting out of you, +and there you go and keep a thing like that up your sleeve. It's not fair +to an old and faithful admirer. I shall stick it in. Poulet chasseur?</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Oh no! Couldn't dream of it. Didn't you know I was +dieting? Nothing saucy. No sugar. No bread. No tea. Thanks to that I've +lost nearly a stone in six months. You know I <i>was</i> getting +enormous.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Let me put <i>that</i> in, eh?</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Just try, and see what happens to you!</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Well, shall we say a lettuce salad, and a Perrier and soda? +I'm dieting, too.</p> + +<p><i>Waiter</i>: Lettuce salad, and a Perrier and soda? Yes, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: You aren't very gay.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Gay! You don't know all the yearnings of my soul. Don't +imagine that because I'm a special of the <i>Record</i> I haven't got a +soul.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: I suppose you've been reading that book, Omar Khayyam, +that every one's talking about. Isn't that what it's called?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Has Omar Khayyam reached the theatrical world? Well, there's +no doubt the earth does move, after all.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: A little more soda, please. And just a trifle less +impudence. What book ought one to be reading, then?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Socialism's the thing just now. Read Wells on Socialism. +It'll be all over the theatrical world in a few years' time.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: No fear! I can't bear Wells. He's always stirring up the +dregs. I don't mind froth, but I do draw the line at dregs. What's the band +playing? What have you been doing to-day? <i>Is</i> this lettuce? No, no! +No bread. Didn't you hear me tell you?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: I've been busy with the Priam Farll affair.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Priam Farll?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Yes. Painter. <i>You</i> know.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Oh yes. <i>Him</i>! I saw it on the posters. He's dead, it +seems. Anything mysterious?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: You bet! Very odd! Frightfully rich, you know! Yet he died +in a wretched hovel of a place down off the Fulham Road. And his valet's +disappeared. We had the first news of the death, through our arrangement +with all the registrars' clerks in London. By the bye, don't give that +away--it's our speciality. Nasing sent me off at once to write up the +story.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Story?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: The particulars. We always call it a story in Fleet +Street.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: What a good name! Well, did you find out anything +interesting?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Not very much. I saw his cousin, Duncan Farll, a +money-lending lawyer in Clement's Lane--he only heard of it because we +telephoned to him. But the fellow would scarcely tell me anything at +all.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Really! I do hope there's something terrible.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Why?</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: So that I can go to the inquest or the police court or +whatever it is. That's why I always keep friendly with magistrates. It's so +frightfully thrilling, sitting on the bench with them.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: There won't be any inquest. But there's something queer in +it. You see, Priam Farll was never in England. Always abroad; at those +foreign hotels, wandering up and down.</p> + +<p><i>Woman (after a pause)</i>: I know.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: What do you know?</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Will you promise not to chatter?</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Yes.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: I met him once at an hotel at Ostend. He--well, he wanted +most tremendously to paint my portrait. But I wouldn't let him.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Why not?</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: If you knew what sort of man he was you wouldn't ask.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Oh! But look here, I say! You must let me use that in my +story. Tell me all about it.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Not for worlds.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: He--he made up to you?</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Rather!</p> + +<p><i>Priam Farll (to himself)</i>: What a barefaced lie! Never was at +Ostend in my life.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Can't I use it if I don't print your name--just say a +distinguished actress.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Oh yes, you can do <i>that</i>. You might say, of the +musical comedy stage.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: I will. I'll run something together. Trust me. Thanks +awfully.</p> + +<p>At this point a young and emaciated priest passed up the room.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Oh! Father Luke, is that you? Do come and sit here and be +nice. This is Father Luke Widgery--Mr. Docksey, of the <i>Record</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Delighted.</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: Delighted.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Now, Father Luke, I've just <i>got</i> to come to your +sermon to-morrow. What's it about?</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: Modern vice.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: How charming! I read the last one--it was lovely.</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: Unless you have a ticket you'll never be able to get +in.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: But I must get in. I'll come to the vestry door, if there +is a vestry door at St. Bede's.</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: It's impossible. You've no idea of the crush. And I've no +favourites.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Oh yes, you have! You have me.</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: In my church, fashionable women must take their chance +with the rest.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: How horrid you are.</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: Perhaps. I may tell you, Miss Cohenson, that I've seen +two duchesses standing at the back of the aisle of St. Bede's, and glad to +be.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: But <i>I</i> shan't flatter you by standing at the back of +your aisle, and you needn't think it. Haven't I given you a box before +now?</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: I only accepted the box as a matter of duty; it is part +of my duty to go everywhere.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Come with me, Miss Cohenson. I've got two tickets for the +<i>Record</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Oh, so you do send seats to the press?</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: The press is different. Waiter, bring me half a bottle of +Heidsieck.</p> + +<p><i>Waiter</i>: Half a bottle of Heidsieck? Yes, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Heidsieck. Well, I like that. <i>We're</i> dieting.</p> + +<p><i>Priest: I</i> don't like Heidsieck. But I'm dieting too. It's my +doctor's orders. Every night before retiring. It appears that my system +needs it. Maria Lady Rowndell insists on giving me a hundred a year to pay +for it. It is her own beautiful way of helping the good cause. Ice, please, +waiter. I've just been seeing her to-night. She's staying here for the +season. Saves her a lot of trouble. She's very much cut up about the death +of Priam Farll, poor thing! So artistic, you know! The late Lord Rowndell +had what is supposed to be the finest lot of Farlls in England.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Did you ever meet Priam Farll, Father Luke?</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: Never. I understand he was most eccentric. I hate +eccentricity. I once wrote to him to ask him if he would paint a Holy +Family for St. Bede's.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: And what did he reply?</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: He didn't reply. Considering that he wasn't even an R.A., +I don't think that it was quite nice of him. However, Maria Lady Rowndell +insists that he must be buried in Westminster Abbey. She asked me what I +could do.</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Buried in Westminster Abbey! I'd no idea he was so big as +all that! Gracious!</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: I have the greatest confidence in Maria Lady Rowndell's +taste, and certainly I bear no grudge. I may be able to arrange something. +My uncle the Dean----</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Pardon me. I always understood that since you left the +Church----</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: Since I joined the Church, you mean. There is but +one.</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Church of England, I meant.</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: Ah!</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: Since you left the Church of England, there had been a +breach between the Dean and yourself.</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: Merely religious. Besides my sister is the Dean's +favourite niece. And I am her favourite brother. My sister takes much +interest in art. She has just painted a really exquisite tea-cosy for me. +Of course the Dean ultimately settles these questions of national funerals, +Hence...</p> + +<p>At this point the invisible orchestra began to play "God save the +King."</p> + +<p><i>Woman</i>: Oh! What a bore!</p> + +<p>Then nearly all the lights were extinguished.</p> + +<p><i>Waiter</i>: Please, gentlemen! Gentlemen, please!</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: You quite understand, Mr. Docksey, that I merely gave +these family details in order to substantiate my statement that I may be +able to arrange something. By the way, if you would care to have a +typescript of my sermon to-morrow for the <i>Record</i>, you can have one +by applying at the vestry.</p> + +<p><i>Waiter</i>: Please, gentlemen!</p> + +<p><i>Man</i>: So good of you. As regards the burial in Westminster Abbey, +I think that the <i>Record</i> will support the project. I say I +<i>think</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Priest</i>: Maria Lady Rowndell will be grateful.</p> + +<p>Five-sixths of the remaining lights went out, and the entire company +followed them. In the foyer there was a prodigious crush of opera cloaks, +silk hats, and cigars, all jostling together. News arrived from the Strand +that the weather had turned to rain, and all the intellect of the Grand +Babylon was centred upon the British climate, exactly as if the British +climate had been the latest discovery of science. As the doors swung to and +fro, the stridency of whistles, the throbbing of motor-cars, and the hoarse +cries of inhabitants of box seats mingled strangely with the delicate +babble of the interior. Then, lo! as by magic, the foyer was empty save for +the denizens of the hotel who could produce evidence of identity. It had +been proved to demonstration, for the sixth time that week, that in the +metropolis of the greatest of Empires there is not one law for the rich and +another for the poor.</p> + +<p>Deeply affected by what he had overheard, Priam Farll rose in a lift and +sought his bed. He perceived clearly that he had been among the governing +classes of the realm.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>A Scoop</i></h2> + + +<p>Within less than twelve hours after that conversation between members of +the governing classes at the Grand Babylon Hotel, Priam Farll heard the +first deep-throated echoes of the voice of England on the question of his +funeral. The voice of England issued on this occasion through the mouth of +the <i>Sunday News</i>, a newspaper which belonged to Lord Nasing, the +proprietor of the <i>Daily Record</i>. There was a column in the <i>Sunday +News</i>, partly concerning the meeting of Priam Farll and a celebrated +star of the musical comedy stage at Ostend. There was also a leading +article, in which it was made perfectly clear that England would stand +ashamed among the nations, if she did not inter her greatest painter in +Westminster Abbey. Only the article, instead of saying Westminster Abbey, +said National Valhalla. It seemed to make a point of not mentioning +Westminster Abbey by name, as though Westminster Abbey had been something +not quite mentionable, such as a pair of trousers. The article ended with +the word 'basilica,' and by the time you had reached this majestic +substantive, you felt indeed, with the <i>Sunday News</i>, that a National +Valhalla without the remains of a Priam Farll inside it, would be shocking, +if not inconceivable.</p> + +<p>Priam Farll was extremely disturbed.</p> + +<p>On Monday morning the <i>Daily Record</i> came nobly to the support of +the <i>Sunday News</i>. It had evidently spent its Sunday in collecting the +opinions of a number of famous men--including three M.P.'s, a banker, a +Colonial premier, a K.C., a cricketer, and the President of the Royal +Academy--as to whether the National Valhalla was or was not a suitable +place for the repose of the remains of Priam Farll; and the unanimous reply +was in the affirmative. Other newspapers expressed the same view. But there +were opponents of the scheme. Some organs coldly inquired what Priam Farll +had <i>done</i> for England, and particularly for the higher life of +England. He had not been a moral painter like Hogarth or Sir Noel Paton, +nor a worshipper of classic legend and beauty like the unique Leighton. He +had openly scorned England. He had never lived in England. He had avoided +the Royal Academy, honouring every country save his own. And was he such a +great painter, after all? Was he anything but a clever dauber whose work +had been forced into general admiration by the efforts of a small clique of +eccentric admirers? Far be it from them, the organs, to decry a dead man, +but the National Valhalla was the National Valhalla.... And so on.</p> + +<p>The penny evening papers were pro-Farll, one of them furiously so. You +gathered that if Priam Farll was not buried in Westminster Abbey the penny +evening papers would, from mere disgust, wipe their boots on Dover cliffs +and quit England eternally for some land where art was understood. You +gathered, by nightfall, that Fleet Street must be a scene of carnage, full +of enthusiasts cutting each other's throats for the sake of the honour of +art. However, no abnormal phenomenon was superficially observable in Fleet +Street; nor was martial law proclaimed at the Arts Club in Dover Street. +London was impassioned by the question of Farll's funeral; a few hours +would decide if England was to be shamed among the nations: and yet the +town seemed to pursue its jog-trot way exactly as usual. The Gaiety Theatre +performed its celebrated nightly musical comedy, "House Full"; and at +Queen's Hall quite a large audience was collected to listen to a violinist +aged twelve, who played like a man, though a little one, and whose services +had been bought for seven years by a limited company.</p> + +<p>The next morning the controversy was settled by one of the <i>Daily +Record's</i> characteristic 'scoops.' In the nature of the case, such +controversies, if they are not settled quickly, settle themselves quickly; +they cannot be prolonged. But it was the <i>Daily Record</i> that settled +this one. The <i>Daily Record</i> came out with a copy of the will of Priam +Farll, in which, after leaving a pound a week for life to his valet, Henry +Leek, Priam Farll bequeathed the remainder of his fortune to the nation for +the building and up-keep of a Gallery of Great Masters. Priam Farll's own +collection of great masters, gradually made by him in that inexpensive +manner which is possible only to the finest connoisseurs, was to form the +nucleus of the Gallery. It comprised, said the <i>Record</i>, several +Rembrandts, a Velasquez, six Vermeers, a Giorgione, a Turner, a Charles, +two Cromes, a Holbein. (After Charles the <i>Record</i> put a note of +interrogation, itself being uncertain of the name.) The pictures were in +Paris--had been for many years. The leading idea of the Gallery was that +nothing not absolutely first-class should be admitted to it. The testator +attached two conditions to the bequest. One was that his own name should be +inscribed nowhere in the building, and the other was that none of his own +pictures should be admitted to the gallery. Was not this sublime? Was not +this true British pride? Was not this magnificently unlike the ordinary +benefactor of his country? The <i>Record</i> was in a position to assert +that Priam Farll's estate would amount to about a hundred and forty +thousand pounds, in addition to the value of the pictures. After that, was +anybody going to argue that he ought not to be buried in the National +Valhalla, a philanthropist so royal and so proudly meek?</p> + +<p>The opposition gave up.</p> + +<p>Priam Farll grew more and more disturbed in his fortress at the Grand +Babylon Hotel. He perfectly remembered making the will. He had made it +about seventeen years before, after some champagne in Venice, in an hour of +anger against some English criticisms of his work. Yes, English criticisms! +It was his vanity that had prompted him to reply in that manner. Moreover, +he was quite young then. He remembered the youthful glee with which he had +appointed his next-of-kin, whoever they might be, executors and trustees of +the will. He remembered his cruel joy in picturing their disgust at being +compelled to carry out the terms of such a will. Often, since, he had meant +to destroy the will; but carelessly he had always omitted to do so. And his +collection and his fortune had continued to increase regularly and +mightily, and now--well, there the thing was! Duncan Farll had found the +will. And Duncan Farll would be the executor and trustee of that +melodramatic testament.</p> + +<p>He could not help smiling, serious as the situation was.</p> + +<p>During that day the thing was settled; the authorities spoke; the word +went forth. Priam Farll was to be buried in Westminster Abbey on the +Thursday. The dignity of England among artistic nations had been saved, +partly by the heroic efforts of the <i>Daily Record</i>, and partly by the +will, which proved that after all Priam Farll had had the highest interests +of his country at heart.</p> + + +<h2><i>Cowardice</i></h2> + + +<p>On the night between Tuesday and Wednesday Priam Farll had not a moment +of sleep. Whether it was the deep-throated voice of England that had +spoken, or merely the voice of the Dean's favourite niece--so skilled in +painting tea-cosies--the affair was excessively serious. For the nation was +preparing to inter in the National Valhalla the remains of just Henry Leek! +Priam's mind had often a sardonic turn; he was assuredly capable of strange +caprices: but even he could not permit an error so gigantic to continue. +The matter must be rectified, and instantly! And he alone could rectify it. +The strain on his shyness would be awful, would be scarcely endurable. +Nevertheless he must act. Quite apart from other considerations, there was +the consideration of that hundred and forty thousand pounds, which was his, +and which he had not the slightest desire to leave to the British nation. +And as for giving his beloved pictures to the race which adored Landseer, +Edwin Long, and Leighton--the idea nauseated him.</p> + +<p>He must go and see Duncan Farll! And explain! Yes, explain that he was +not dead.</p> + +<p>Then he had a vision of Duncan Farll's hard, stupid face, and +impenetrable steel head; and of himself being kicked out of the house, or +delivered over to a policeman, or in some subtler way unimaginably +insulted. Could he confront Duncan Farll? Was a hundred and forty thousand +pounds and the dignity of the British nation worth the bearding of Duncan +Farll? No! His distaste for Duncan Farll amounted to more than a hundred +and forty millions of pounds and the dignity of whole planets. He felt that +he could never bring himself to meet Duncan Farll. Why, Duncan might shove +him into a lunatic asylum, might...!</p> + +<p>Still he must act.</p> + +<p>Then it was that occurred to him the brilliant notion of making a clean +breast of it to the Dean. He had not the pleasure of the Dean's personal +acquaintance. The Dean was an abstraction; certainly much more abstract +than Priam Farll. He thought he could meet the Dean. A terrific enterprise, +but he must accomplish it! After all, a Dean--what was it? Nothing but a +man with a funny hat! And was not he himself Priam Farll, the authentic +Priam Farll, vastly greater than any Dean?</p> + +<p>He told the valet to buy black gloves, and a silk hat, sized seven and a +quarter, and to bring up a copy of <i>Who's Who</i>. He hoped the valet +would be dilatory in executing these commands. But the valet seemed to +fulfill them by magic. Time flew so fast that (in a way of speaking) you +could hardly see the fingers as they whirled round the clock. And almost +before he knew where he was, two commissionaires were helping him into an +auto-cab, and the terrific enterprise had begun. The auto-cab would easily +have won the race for the Gordon Bennett Cup. It was of about two hundred +h.p., and it arrived in Dean's Yard in less time than a fluent speaker +would take to say Jack Robinson. The rapidity of the flight was simply +incredible.</p> + +<p>"I'll keep you," Priam Farll was going to say, as he descended, but he +thought it would be more final to dismiss the machine; so he dismissed +it.</p> + +<p>He rang the bell with frantic haste, lest he should run away ere he had +rung it. And then his heart went thumping, and the perspiration damped the +lovely lining of his new hat; and his legs trembled, literally!</p> + +<p>He was in hell on the Dean's doorstep.</p> + +<p>The door was opened by a man in livery of prelatical black, who eyed +him inimically.</p> + +<p>"Er----" stammered Priam Farll, utterly flustered and craven. "Is this +Mr. Parker's?"</p> + +<p>Now Parker was not the Dean's name, and Priam knew that it was not. +Parker was merely the first name that had come into Priam's cowardly +head.</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't," said the flunkey with censorious lips. "It's the +Dean's."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg pardon," said Priam Farll. "I thought it was Mr. +Parker's."</p> + +<p>And he departed.</p> + +<p>Between the ringing of the bell and the flunkey's appearance, he had +clearly seen what he was capable, and what he was incapable, of doing. And +the correction of England's error was among his incapacities. He could not +face the Dean. He could not face any one. He was a poltroon in all these +things; a poltroon. No use arguing! He could not do it.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was Mr. Parker's!" Good heavens! To what depths can a +great artist fall.</p> + +<p>That evening he received a cold letter from Duncan Farll, with a +nave-ticket for the funeral. Duncan Farll did not venture to be sure that +Mr. Henry Leek would think proper to attend his master's interment; but he +enclosed a ticket. He also stated that the pound a week would be paid to +him in due course. Lastly he stated that several newspaper representatives +had demanded Mr. Henry Leek's address, but he had not thought fit to +gratify this curiosity.</p> + +<p>Priam was glad of that.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm dashed!" he reflected, handling the ticket for the nave.</p> + +<p>There it was, large, glossy, real as life.</p> + + +<h2><i>In the Valhalla</i></h2> + + +<p>In the vast nave there were relatively few people--that is to say, a few +hundred, who had sufficient room to move easily to and fro under the eyes +of officials. Priam Farll had been admitted through the cloisters, +according to the direction printed on the ticket. In his nervous fancy, he +imagined that everybody must be gazing at him suspiciously, but the fact +was that he occupied the attention of no one at all. He was with the +unprivileged, on the wrong side of the massive screen which separated the +nave from the packed choir and transepts, and the unprivileged are never +interested in themselves; it is the privileged who interest them. The organ +was wafting a melody of Purcell to the furthest limits of the Abbey. Round +a roped space a few ecclesiastical uniforms kept watch over the ground that +would be the tomb. The sunlight of noon beat and quivered in long lances +through crimson and blue windows. Then the functionaries began to form an +aisle among the spectators, and emotion grew tenser. The organ was silent +for a moment, and when it recommenced its song the song was the supreme +expression of human grief, the dirge of Chopin, wrapping the whole +cathedral in heavy folds of sorrow. And as that appeal expired in the +pulsating air, the fresh voices of little boys, sweeter even than grief, +rose in the distance.</p> + +<p>It was at this point that Priam Farll descried Lady Sophia Entwistle, a +tall, veiled figure, in full mourning. She had come among the comparatively +unprivileged to his funeral. Doubtless influence such as hers could have +obtained her a seat in the transept, but she had preferred the secluded +humility of the nave. She had come from Paris for his funeral. She was +weeping for her affianced. She stood there, actually within ten yards of +him. She had not caught sight of him, but she might do so at any moment, +and she was slowly approaching the spot where he trembled.</p> + +<p>He fled, with nothing in his heart but resentment against her. She had +not proposed to him; he had proposed to her. She had not thrown him aside; +he had thrown her aside. He was not one of her mistakes; she was one of his +mistakes. Not she, but he, had been capricious, impulsive, hasty. Yet he +hated her. He genuinely thought she had sinned against him, and that she +ought to be exterminated. He condemned her for all manner of things as to +which she had had no choice: for instance, the irregularity of her teeth, +and the hollow under her chin, and the little tricks of deportment which +are always developed by a spinster as she reaches forty. He fled in terror +of her. If she should have a glimpse of him, and should recognize him, the +consequence would be absolutely disastrous--disastrous in every way; and a +period of publicity would dawn for him such as he could not possibly +contemplate either in cold blood or warm. He fled blindly, insinuating +himself through the crowd, until he reached a grille in which was a gate, +ajar. His strange stare must have affrighted the guardian of the gate, for +the robed fellow stood away, and Priam passed within the grille, where were +winding steps, which he mounted. Up the steps ran coils of fire-hose. He +heard the click of the gate as the attendant shut it, and he was thankful +for an escape. The steps led to the organ-loft, perched on the top of the +massive screen. The organist was seated behind a half-drawn curtain, under +shaded electric lights, and on the ample platform whose parapet overlooked +the choir were two young men who whispered with the organist. None of the +three even glanced at Priam. Priam sat down on a windsor chair fearfully, +like an intruder, his face towards the choir.</p> + +<p>The whispers ceased; the organist's fingers began to move over five rows +of notes, and over scores of stops, while his feet groped beneath, and +Priam heard music, afar off. And close behind him he heard rumblings, +steamy vibrations, and, as it were, sudden escapes of gas; and comprehended +that these were the hoarse responses of the 32 and 64 foot pipes, laid +horizontally along the roof of the screen, to the summoning fingers of the +organist. It was all uncanny, weird, supernatural, demoniacal if you +will--it was part of the secret and unsuspected mechanism of a vast +emotional pageant and spectacle. It unnerved Priam, especially when the +organist, a handsome youngish man with lustrous eyes, half turned and +winked at one of his companions.</p> + +<p>The thrilling voices of the choristers grew louder, and as they grew +louder Priam Farll was conscious of unaccustomed phenomena in his throat, +which shut and opened of itself convulsively. To divert his attention from +his throat, he partially rose from the windsor chair, and peeped over the +parapet of the screen into the choir, whose depths were candlelit and whose +altitudes were capriciously bathed by the intermittent splendours of the +sun. High, high up, in front of him, at the summit of a precipice of stone, +a little window, out of the sunshine, burned sullenly in a gloom of +complicated perspectives. And far below, stretched round the pulpit and +disappearing among the forest of statuary in the transept, was a floor +consisting of the heads of the privileged--famous, renowned, notorious, by +heredity, talent, enterprise, or hazard; he had read many of their names in +the <i>Daily Telegraph</i>. The voices of the choristers had become +piercing in their beauty. Priam frankly stood up, and leaned over the +parapet. Every gaze was turned to a point under him which he could not see. +And then something swayed from beneath into the field of his vision. It was +a tall cross borne by a beadle. In the wake of the cross there came to view +gorgeous ecclesiastics in pairs, and then a robed man walking backwards and +gesticulating in the manner of some important, excited official of the +Salvation Army; and after this violet robe arrived the scarlet choristers, +singing to the beat of his gesture. And then swung into view the coffin, +covered with a heavy purple pall, and on the pall a single white cross; and +the pall-bearers--great European names that had hurried out of the corners +of Europe as at a peremptory mandate--with Duncan Farll to complete the +tale!</p> + +<p>Was it the coffin, or the richness of its pall, or the solitary +whiteness of its cross of flowers, or the august authority of the bearers, +that affected Priam Farll like a blow on the heart? Who knows? But the fact +was that he could look no more; the scene was too much for him. Had he +continued to look he would have burst uncontrollably into tears. It +mattered not that the corpse of a common rascally valet lay under that +pall; it mattered not that a grotesque error was being enacted; it mattered +not whether the actuating spring of the immense affair was the Dean's +water-colouring niece or the solemn deliberations of the Chapter; it +mattered not that newspapers had ignobly misused the name and honour of art +for their own advancement--the instant effect was overwhelmingly +impressive. All that had been honest and sincere in the heart of England +for a thousand years leapt mystically up and made it impossible that the +effect should be other than overwhelmingly impressive. It was an effect +beyond argument and reason; it was the magic flowering of centuries in a +single moment, the silent awful sigh of a nation's saecular soul. It took +majesty and loveliness from the walls around it, and rendered them again +tenfold. It left nothing common, neither the motives nor the littleness of +men. In Priam's mind it gave dignity to Lady Sophia Entwistle, and profound +tragedy to the death of Leek; it transformed even the gestures of the +choir-leader into grave commands.</p> + +<p>And all that was for him! He had brushed pigments on to cloth in a way +of his own, nothing more, and the nation to which he had always denied +artistic perceptions, the nation which he had always fiercely accused of +sentimentality, was thus solemnizing his committal to the earth! Divine +mystery of art! The large magnificence of England smote him! He had not +suspected his own greatness, nor England's.</p> + +<p>The music ceased. He chanced to look up at the little glooming window, +perched out of reach of mankind. And the thought that the window had burned +there, patiently and unexpectantly, for hundreds of years, like an +anchorite above the river and town, somehow disturbed him so that he could +not continue to look at it. Ineffable sadness of a mere window! And his eye +fell--fell on the coffin of Henry Leek with its white cross, and the +representative of England's majesty standing beside it. And there was the +end of Priam Farll's self-control. A pang like a pang of parturition itself +seized him, and an issuing sob nearly ripped him in two. It was a loud sob, +undisguised, unashamed, reverberating. Other sobs succeeded it. Priam Farll +was in torture.</p> + + +<h2><i>A New Hat</i></h2> + + +<p>The organist vaulted over his seat, shocked by the outrage.</p> + +<p>"You really mustn't make that noise," whispered the organist.</p> + +<p>Priam Farll shook him off.</p> + +<p>The organist was apparently at a loss what to do.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" whispered one of the young men.</p> + +<p>"Don't know him from Adam!" said the organist with conviction, and then +to Priam Farll: "Who are you? You've no right to be here. Who gave you +permission to come up here?"</p> + +<p>And the rending sobs continued to issue from the full-bodied ridiculous +man of fifty, utterly careless of decorum.</p> + +<p>"It's perfectly absurd!" whispered the youngster who had whispered +before.</p> + +<p>There had been a silence in the choir.</p> + +<p>"Here! They're waiting for you!" whispered the other young man excitedly +to the organist.</p> + +<p>"By----!" whispered the alarmed organist, not stopping to say by what, +but leaping like an acrobat back to his seat. His fingers and boots were at +work instantly, and as he played he turned his head and whispered--</p> + +<p>"Better fetch some one."</p> + +<p>One of the young men crept quickly and creakingly down the stairs. +Fortunately the organ and choristers were now combined to overcome the +sobbing, and they succeeded. Presently a powerful arm, hidden under a black +cassock, was laid on Priam's shoulder. He hysterically tried to free +himself, but he could not. The cassock and the two young men thrust him +downwards. They all descended together, partly walking and partly falling. +And then a door was opened, and Priam discovered himself in the unroofed +air of the cloisters, without his hat, and breathing in gasps. His +executioners were also breathing in gasps. They glared at him in triumphant +menace, as though they had done something, which indeed they had, and as +though they meant to do something more but could not quite decide what.</p> + +<p>"Where's your ticket of admission?" demanded the cassock.</p> + +<p>Priam fumbled for it, and could not find it.</p> + +<p>"I must have lost it," he said weakly.</p> + +<p>"What's your name, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Priam Farll," said Priam Farll, without thinking.</p> + +<p>"Off his nut, evidently!" murmured one of the young men contemptuously. +"Come on, Stan. Don't let's miss that anthem, for this cuss." And off they +both went.</p> + +<p>Then a youthful policeman appeared, putting on his helmet as he quitted +the fane.</p> + +<p>"What's all this?" asked the policeman, in the assured tone of one who +had the forces of the Empire behind him.</p> + +<p>"He's been making a disturbance in the horgan loft," said the cassock, +"and now he says his name's Priam Farll."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the policeman. "Ho! And how did he get into the organ +loft?"</p> + +<p>"Don't arsk me," answered the cassock. "He ain't got no ticket."</p> + +<p>"Now then, out of it!" said the policeman, taking zealously hold of +Priam.</p> + +<p>"I'll thank you to leave me alone," said Priam, rebelling with all the +pride of his nature against this clutch of the law.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you will, will you?" said the policeman. "We'll see about that. We +shall just see about that."</p> + +<p>And the policeman dragged Priam along the cloister to the muffled music +of "He will swallow up death in victory." They had not thus proceeded very +far when they met another policeman, an older policeman.</p> + +<p>"What's all this?" demanded the older policeman.</p> + +<p>"Drunk and disorderly in the Abbey!" said the younger.</p> + +<p>"Will you come quietly?" the older policeman asked Priam, with a touch +of commiseration.</p> + +<p>"I'm not drunk," said Priam fiercely; he was unversed in London, and +unaware of the foolishness of reasoning with the watch-dogs of justice.</p> + +<p>"Will you come quietly?" the older policeman repeated, this time without +any touch of commiseration.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Priam.</p> + +<p>And he went quietly. Experience may teach with the rapidity of +lightning.</p> + +<p>"But where's my hat?" he added after a moment, instinctively +stopping.</p> + +<p>"Now then!" said the older policeman. "Come <i>on</i>."</p> + +<p>He walked between them, striding. Just as they emerged into Dean's Yard, +his left hand nervously exploring one of his pockets, on a sudden +encountered a piece of cardboard.</p> + +<p>"Here's my ticket," he said. "I thought I'd lost it. I've had nothing at +all to drink, and you'd better let me go. The whole affair's a +mistake."</p> + +<p>The procession halted, while the older policeman gazed fascinated at the +official document.</p> + +<p>"Henry Leek," he read, deciphering the name.</p> + +<p>"He's been a-telling every one as he's Priam Farll," grumbled the +younger policeman, looking over the other's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I've done no such thing," said Priam promptly.</p> + +<p>The elder carefully inspected the prisoner, and two little boys arrived +and formed a crowd, which was immediately dispersed by a frown.</p> + +<p>"He don't look as if he'd had 'ardly as much drink as 'ud wash a bus, +does he?" murmured the elder critically. The younger, afraid of his senior, +said nothing. "Look here, Mr. Henry Leek," the elder proceeded, "do you +know what I should do if I was you? I should go and buy myself a new hat, +if I was you, and quick too!"</p> + +<p>Priam hastened away, and heard the senior say to the junior, "He's a +toff, that's what he is, and you're a fool. Have you forgotten as you're on +point duty?"</p> + +<p>And such is the effect of a suggestion given under certain circumstances +by a man of authority, that Priam Farll went straight along Victoria Street +and at Sowter's famous one-price hat-shop did in fact buy himself a new +hat. He then hailed a taximeter from the stand opposite the Army and Navy +Stores, and curtly gave the address of the Grand Babylon Hotel. And when +the cab was fairly at speed, and not before, he abandoned himself to a fit +of candid, unrestrained cursing. He cursed largely and variously and +shamelessly both in English and in French. And he did not cease cursing. It +was a reaction which I do not care to characterize; but I will not conceal +that it occurred. The fit spent itself before he reached the hotel, for +most of Parliament Street was blocked for the spectacular purposes of his +funeral, and his driver had to seek devious ways. The cursing over, he +began to smooth his plumes in detail. At the hotel, out of sheer +nervousness, he gave the cabman half-a-crown, which was preposterous.</p> + +<p>Another cab drove up nearly at the exact instant of his arrival. And, as +a capping to the day, Mrs. Alice Challice stepped out of it.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>Alice on Hotels</i></h2> + + +<p>She was wearing the same red roses.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said, very quickly, pouring out the words generously from the +inexhaustible mine of her good heart. "I'm so sorry I missed you Saturday +night. I can't tell you how sorry I am. Of course it was all my fault. I +oughtn't to have got into the lift without you. I ought to have waited. +When I was in the lift I wanted to get out, but the lift-man was too quick +for me. And then on the platforms--well, there was such a crowd it was +useless! I knew it was useless. And you not having my address either! I +wondered whatever you would think of me."</p> + +<p>"My dear lady!" he protested. "I can assure you I blamed only myself. My +hat blew off, and----"</p> + +<p>"Did it now!" she took him up breathlessly. "Well, all I want you to +understand really is that I'm not one of those silly sort of women that go +losing themselves. No. Such a thing's never happened to me before, and I +shall take good care----"</p> + +<p>She glanced round. He had paid both the cabmen, who were departing, and +he and Mrs. Alice Challice stood under the immense glass portico of the +Grand Babylon, exposed to the raking stare of two commissionaires.</p> + +<p>"So you <i>are</i> staying here!" she said, as if laying hold of a fact +which she had hitherto hesitated to touch.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "Won't you come in?"</p> + +<p>He took her into the rich gloom of the Grand Babylon dashingly, fighting +against the demon of shyness and beating it off with great loss. They sat +down in a corner of the principal foyer, where a few electric lights drew +attention to empty fauteuils and the blossoms on the Aubusson carpet. The +world was at lunch.</p> + +<p>"And a fine time I had getting your address!" said she. "Of course I +wrote at once to Selwood Terrace, as soon as I got home, but I had the +wrong number, somehow, and I kept waiting and waiting for an answer, and +the only answer I received was the returned letter. I knew I'd got the +street right, and I said, 'I'll find that house if I have to ring every +bell in Selwood Terrace, yes', and knock every knocker!' Well, I did find +it, and then they wouldn't <i>give</i> me your address. They said 'letters +would be forwarded,' if you please. But I wasn't going to have any more +letter business, no thank you! So I said I wouldn't go without the address. +It was Mr. Duncan Farll's clerk that I saw. He's living there for the time +being. A very nice young man. We got quite friendly. It seems Mr. Duncan +Farll <i>was</i> in a state when he found the will. The young man did say +that he broke a typewriter all to pieces. But the funeral being in +Westminster Abbey consoled him. It wouldn't have consoled me--no, not it! +However, he's very rich himself, so that doesn't matter. The young man said +if I'd call again he'd ask his master if he might give me your address. A +rare fuss over an address, thought I to myself. But there! Lawyers! So I +called again, and he gave it me. I could have come yesterday. I very nearly +wrote last night. But I thought on the whole I'd better wait till the +funeral was over. I thought it would be nicer. It's over now, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Priam Farll.</p> + +<p>She smiled at him with grave sympathy, comfortably and sensibly. "And +right down relieved you must be!" she murmured. "It must have been very +trying for you."</p> + +<p>"In a way," he answered hesitatingly, "it was."</p> + +<p>Taking off her gloves, she glanced round about her, as a thief must +glance before opening the door, and then, leaning suddenly towards him, she +put her hands to his neck and touched his collar. "No, no!" she said. "Let +me do it. I can do it. There's no one looking. It's unbuttoned; the necktie +was holding it in place, but it's got quite loose now. There! I can do it. +I see you've got two funny moles on your neck, close together. How lucky! +That's it!" A final pat!</p> + +<p>Now, no woman had ever patted Priam Farll's necktie before, much less +buttoned his collar, and still much less referred to the two little moles, +one hirsute, the other hairless, which the collar hid--when it was properly +buttoned! The experience was startling for him in the extreme. It might +have made him very angry, had the hands of Mrs. Challice not been--well, +nurse's hands, soft hands, persuasive hands, hands that could practise +impossible audacities with impunity. Imagine a woman, uninvited and +unpermitted, arranging his collar and necktie for him in the largest public +room of the Grand Babylon, and then talking about his little moles! It +would have been unimaginable! Yet it happened. And moreover, he had not +disliked it. She sat back in her chair as though she had done nothing in +the least degree unusual.</p> + +<p>"I can see you must have been very upset," she said gently, "though he +<i>has</i> only left you a pound a week. Still, that's better than a bat in +the eye with a burnt stick."</p> + +<p>A bat in the eye with a burnt stick reminded him vaguely of encounters +with the police; otherwise it conveyed no meaning to his mind.</p> + +<p>"I hope you haven't got to go on duty at once," she said after a pause. +"Because you really do look as if you needed a rest, and a cup of tea or +something of that, I'm quite ashamed to have come bothering you so +soon."</p> + +<p>"Duty?" he questioned. "What duty?"</p> + +<p>"Why," she exclaimed, "haven't you got a new place?"</p> + +<p>"New place!" he repeated after. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why, as valet."</p> + +<p>There was certainly danger in his tendency to forget that he was a +valet. He collected himself.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "I haven't got a new place."</p> + +<p>"Then why are you staying here?" she cried. "I thought you were simply +here with a new master, Why are you staying here alone?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," he replied, abashed, "it seemed a convenient place. It was just by +chance that I came here."</p> + +<p>"Convenient place indeed!" she said stoutly. "I never heard of such a +thing!"</p> + +<p>He perceived that he had shocked her, pained her. He saw that some +ingenious defence of himself was required; but he could find none. So he +said, in his confusion--</p> + +<p>"Suppose we go and have something to eat? I do want a bit of lunch, as +you say, now I come to think of it. Will you?"</p> + +<p>"What? Here?" she demanded apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said. "Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Well--!"</p> + +<p>"Come along!" he said, with fine casualness, and conducted her to the +eight swinging glass doors that led to the <i>salle à manger</i> of the +Grand Babylon. At each pair of doors was a living statue of dignity in +cloth of gold. She passed these statues without a sign of fear, but when +she saw the room itself, steeped in a supra-genteel calm, full of gowns and +hats and everything that you read about in the <i>Lady's Pictorial,</i> and +the pennoned mast of a barge crossing the windows at the other end, she +stopped suddenly. And one of the lord mayors of the Grand Babylon, wearing +a mayoral chain, who had started out to meet them, stopped also.</p> + +<p>"No!" she said. "I don't feel as if I could eat here. I really +couldn't."</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I couldn't fancy it somehow. Can't we go somewhere +else?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly we can," he agreed with an eagerness that was more than +polite.</p> + +<p>She thanked him with another of her comfortable, sensible smiles--a +smile that took all embarrassment out of the dilemma, as balm will take +irritation from a wound. And gently she removed her hat and gown, and her +gestures and speech, and her comfortableness, from those august precincts. +And they descended to the grill-room, which was relatively noisy, and where +her roses were less conspicuous than the helmet of Navarre, and her frock +found its sisters and cousins from far lands.</p> + +<p>"I'm not much for these restaurants," she said, over grilled +kidneys.</p> + +<p>"No?" he responded tentatively. "I'm sorry. I thought the other +night----"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," she broke in, "I was very glad to go, the other night, to that +place, very glad. But, you see, I'd never been in a restaurant before."</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "and I felt as if I should like to try one. And the +young lady at the post office had told me that <i>that</i> one was a +splendid one. So it is. It's beautiful. But of course they ought to be +ashamed to offer you such food. Now do you remember that sole? Sole! It was +no more sole than this glove's sole. And if it had been cooked a minute, it +had been cooked an hour, and waiting. And then look at the prices. Oh yes, +I couldn't help seeing the bill."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was awfully cheap," said he.</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>I</i> didn't!" said she. "When you think that a good +housekeeper can keep everything going on ten shillings a head a +<i>week</i>.... Why, it's simply scandalous! And I suppose this place is +even dearer?"</p> + +<p>He avoided the question. "This is a better place altogether," he said. +"In fact, I don't know many places in Europe where one can eat better than +one does here."</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" she said indulgently, as if saying, "Well, I know one, at +any rate."</p> + +<p>"They say," he continued, "that there is no butter used in this place +that costs less than three shillings a pound."</p> + +<p>"<i>No</i> butter costs them three shillings a pound," said she.</p> + +<p>"Not in London," said he. "They have it from Paris."</p> + +<p>"And do you believe that?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't. Any one that pays more than one-and-nine a pound for +butter, <i>at the most</i>, is a fool, if you'll excuse me saying the word. +Not but what this is good butter. I couldn't get as good in Putney for less +than eighteen pence."</p> + +<p>She made him feel like a child who has a great deal to pick up from a +kindly but firm sister.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," she said, a little dryly, to the waiter who proffered a +further supply of chip potatoes.</p> + +<p>"Now don't say they're cold," Priam laughed.</p> + +<p>And she laughed also. "Shall I tell you one thing that puts me against +these restaurants?" she went on. "It's the feeling you have that you don't +know where the food's <i>been</i>. When you've got your kitchen close to +your dining-room and you can keep an eye on the stuff from the moment the +cart brings it, well, then, you do know a bit where you are. And you can +have your dishes served hot. It stands to reason," she said. "Where is the +kitchen here?"</p> + +<p>"Somewhere down below," he replied apologetically.</p> + +<p>"A cellar kitchen!" she exclaimed. "Why, in Putney they simply can't let +houses with cellar kitchens. No! No restaurants and hotels for me--not for +<i>choice</i>--that is, regularly."</p> + +<p>"Still," he said, with a judicial air, "hotels are very convenient."</p> + +<p>"Are they?" she said, meaning, "Prove it."</p> + +<p>"For instance, here, there's a telephone in every room."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean in the bedrooms?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in every bedroom."</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "you wouldn't catch me having a telephone in my +bedroom. I should never sleep if I knew there was a telephone in the room! +Fancy being forced to telephone every time you want--well! I And how is one +to know who there is at the other end of the telephone? No, I don't like +that. All that's all very well for gentlemen that haven't been used to what +I call <i>com</i>fort in a way of speaking. But----"</p> + +<p>He saw that if he persisted, nothing soon would be left of that noble +pile, the Grand Babylon Hotel, save a heap of ruins. And, further, she +genuinely did cause him to feel that throughout his career he had always +missed the very best things of life, through being an uncherished, +ingenuous, easily satisfied man. A new sensation for him! For if any male +in Europe believed in his own capacity to make others make him comfortable +Priam Farll was that male.</p> + +<p>"I've never been in Putney," he ventured, on a new track.</p> + + +<h2><i>Difficulty of Truth-telling</i></h2> + + +<p>As she informed him, with an ungrudging particularity, about Putney, and +her life at Putney, there gradually arose in his brain a vision of a kind +of existence such as he had never encountered. Putney had clearly the +advantages of a residential town in a magnificent situation. It lay on the +slope of a hill whose foot was washed by a glorious stream entitled the +Thames, its breast covered with picturesque barges and ornamental rowing +boats; an arched bridge spanned this stream, and you went over the bridge +in milk-white omnibuses to London. Putney had a street of handsome shops, a +purely business street; no one slept there now because of the noise of +motors; at eventide the street glittered in its own splendours. There were +theatre, music-hall, assembly-rooms, concert hall, market, brewery, +library, and an afternoon tea shop exactly like Regent Street (not that +Mrs. Challice cared for their alleged China tea); also churches and +chapels; and Barnes Common if you walked one way, and Wimbledon Common if +you walked another. Mrs. Challice lived in Werter Road, Werter Road +starting conveniently at the corner of the High Street where the fish-shop +was--an establishment where authentic sole was always obtainable, though it +was advisable not to buy it on Monday mornings, of course. Putney was a +place where you lived unvexed, untroubled. You had your little house, and +your furniture, and your ability to look after yourself at all ends, and +your knowledge of the prices of everything, and your deep knowledge of +human nature, and your experienced forgivingness towards human frailties. +You did not keep a servant, because servants were so complicated, and +because they could do nothing whatever as well as you could do it yourself. +You had a charwoman when you felt idle or when you chose to put the house +into the back-yard for an airing. With the charwoman, a pair of gloves for +coarser work, and gas stoves, you 'made naught' of domestic labour. You +were never worried by ambitions, or by envy, or by the desire to know +precisely what the wealthy did and to do likewise. You read when you were +not more amusingly occupied, preferring illustrated papers and magazines. +You did not traffic with art to any appreciable extent, and you never +dreamed of letting it keep you awake at night. You were rich, for the +reason that you spent less than you received. You never speculated about +the ultimate causes of things, or puzzled yourself concerning the possible +developments of society in the next hundred years. When you saw a poor old +creature in the street you bought a box of matches off the poor old +creature. The social phenomenon which chiefly roused you to just anger was +the spectacle of wealthy people making money and so taking the bread out of +the mouths of people who needed It. The only apparent blots on existence at +Putney were the noise and danger of the High Street, the dearth of reliable +laundries, the manners of a middle-aged lady engaged at the post office +(Mrs. Challice liked the other ladies in the post office), and the absence +of a suitable man in the house.</p> + +<p>Existence at Putney seemed to Priam Farll to approach the Utopian. It +seemed to breathe of romance--the romance of common sense and kindliness +and simplicity. It made his own existence to that day appear a futile and +unhappy striving after the impossible. Art? What was it? What did it lead +to? He was sick of art, and sick of all the forms of activity to which he +had hitherto been accustomed and which he had mistaken for life itself.</p> + +<p>One little home, fixed and stable, rendered foolish the whole concourse +of European hotels.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you won't be staying here long," demanded Mrs. Challice.</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" he said. "I shall decide something."</p> + +<p>"Shall you take another place?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Another place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Her smile was excessively persuasive and inviting.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said diffidently.</p> + +<p>"You must have put a good bit by," she said, still with the same smile. +"Or perhaps you haven't. Saving's a matter of chance. That's what I always +do say. It just depends how you begin. It's a habit. I'd never really blame +anybody for not saving. And men----!" She seemed to wish to indicate that +men were specially to be excused if they did not save.</p> + +<p>She had a large mind: that was sure. She understood--things, and human +nature in particular. She was not one of those creatures that a man meets +with sometimes--creatures who are for ever on the watch to pounce, and who +are incapable of making allowances for any male frailty--smooth, smiling +creatures, with thin lips, hair a little scanty at the front, and a quietly +omniscient 'don't-tell-<i>me</i>' tone. Mrs. Alice Challice had a mouth as +wide as her ideas, and a full underlip. She was a woman who, as it were, +ran out to meet you when you started to cross the dangerous roadway which +separates the two sexes. She comprehended because she wanted to comprehend. +And when she could not comprehend she would deceive herself that she did: +which amounts to the equivalent.</p> + +<p>She was a living proof that in her sex social distinctions do not +effectively count. Nothing counted where she was concerned, except a +distinction far more profound than any social distinction--the historic +distinction between Adam and Eve. She was balm to Priam Farll. She might +have been equally balm to King David, Uriah the Hittite, Socrates, +Rousseau, Lord Byron, Heine, or Charlie Peace. She would have understood +them all. They would all have been ready to cushion themselves on her +comfortableness. Was she a lady? Pish! She was a woman.</p> + +<p>Her temperament drew Priam Farll like an electrified magnet. To wander +about freely in that roomy sympathy of hers seemed to him to be the supreme +reward of experience. It seemed like the good inn after the bleak +high-road, the oasis after the sandstorm, shade after glare, the dressing +after the wound, sleep after insomnia, surcease from unspeakable torture. +He wanted, in a word, to tell her everything, because she would not demand +any difficult explanations. She had given him an opening, in her mention of +savings. In reply to her suggestion, "You must have put a good bit by," he +could casually answer:</p> + +<p>"Yes, a hundred and forty thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>And that would lead by natural stages to a complete revealing of the fix +in which he was. In five minutes he would have confided to her the +principal details, and she would have understood, and then he could +describe his agonizing and humiliating half-hour in the Abbey, and she +would pour her magic oil on that dreadful abrasion of his sensitiveness. +And he would be healed of his hurts, and they would settle between them +what he ought to do.</p> + +<p>He regarded her as his refuge, as fate's generous compensation to him +for the loss of Henry Leek (whose remains now rested in the National +Valhalla).</p> + +<p>Only, it would be necessary to begin the explanation, so that one thing +might by natural stages lead to another. On reflection, it appeared rather +abrupt to say:</p> + +<p>"Yes, a hundred and forty thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>The sum was too absurdly high (though correct). The mischief was that, +unless the sum did strike her as absurdly high, it could not possibly lead +by a natural stage to the remainder of the explanation.</p> + +<p>He must contrive another path. For instance--</p> + +<p>"There's been a mistake about the so-called death of Priam Farll."</p> + +<p>"A mistake!" she would exclaim, all ears and eyes.</p> + +<p>Then he would say--</p> + +<p>"Yes. Priam Farll isn't really dead. It's his valet that's dead."</p> + +<p>Whereupon she would burst out--</p> + +<p>"But <i>you</i> were his valet!"</p> + +<p>Whereupon he would simply shake his head, and she would steam +forwards--</p> + +<p>"Then who are you?"</p> + +<p>Whereupon he would say, as calmly as he could--</p> + +<p>"I'm Priam Farll. I'll tell you precisely how it all happened."</p> + +<p>Thus the talk might happen. Thus it would happen, immediately he began. +But, as at the Dean's door in Dean's Yard, so now, he could not begin. He +could not utter the necessary words aloud. Spoken aloud, they would sound +ridiculous, incredible, insane--and not even Mrs. Challice could reasonably +be expected to grasp their import, much less believe them.</p> + +<p>"<i>There's been a mistake about the so-called death of Priam +Farll.</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes, a hundred and forty thousand pounds.</i>"</p> + +<p>No, he could enunciate neither the one sentence nor the other. There are +some truths so bizarre that they make you feel self-conscious and guilty +before you have begun to state them; you state them apologetically; you +blush; you stammer; you have all the air of one who does not expect belief; +you look a fool; you feel a fool; and you bring disaster on yourself.</p> + +<p>He perceived with the most painful clearness that he could never, never +impart to her the terrific secret, the awful truth. Great as she was, the +truth was greater, and she would never be able to swallow it.</p> + +<p>"What time is it?" she asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mustn't think about time," he said, with hasty concern.</p> + + +<h2><i>Results of Rain</i></h2> + + +<p>When the lunch was completely finished and the grill-room had so far +emptied that it was inhabited by no one except themselves and several +waiters who were trying to force them to depart by means of thought +transference and uneasy, hovering round their table, Priam Farll began to +worry his brains in order to find some sane way of spending the afternoon +in her society. He wanted to keep her, but he did not know how to keep her. +He was quite at a loss. Strange that a man great enough and brilliant +enough to get buried in Westminster Abbey had not sufficient of the small +change of cleverness to retain the company of a Mrs. Alice Challice! Yet so +it was. Happily he was buoyed up by the thought that she understood.</p> + +<p>"I must be moving off home," she said, putting her gloves on slowly; and +sighed.</p> + +<p>"Let me see," he stammered. "I think you said Werter Road, Putney?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. No. 29."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'll let me call on you," he ventured.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do!" she encouraged him.</p> + +<p>Nothing could have been more correct, and nothing more banal, than this +part of their conversation. He certainly would call. He would travel down +to the idyllic Putney to-morrow. He could not lose such a friend, such a +balm, such a soft cushion, such a comprehending intelligence. He would bit +by bit become intimate with her, and perhaps ultimately he might arrive at +the stage of being able to tell her who he was with some chance of being +believed. Anyhow, when he did call--and he insisted to himself that it +should be extremely soon--he would try another plan with her; he would +carefully decide beforehand just what to say and how to say it. This +decision reconciled him somewhat to a temporary parting from her.</p> + +<p>So he paid the bill, under her sagacious, protesting eyes, and he +managed to conceal from those eyes the precise amount of the tip; and then, +at the cloak-room, he furtively gave sixpence to a fat and wealthy man who +had been watching over his hat and stick. (Highly curious, how those +common-sense orbs of hers made all such operations seem excessively silly!) +And at last they wandered, in silence, through the corridors and +antechambers that led to the courtyard entrance. And through the glass +portals Priam Farll had a momentary glimpse of the reflection of light on a +cabman's wet macintosh. It was raining. It was raining very heavily indeed. +All was dry under the glass-roofed colonnades of the courtyard, but the +rain rattled like kettledrums on that glass, and the centre of the +courtyard was a pond in which a few hansoms were splashing about. +Everything--the horses' coats, the cabmen's hats and capes, and the +cabmen's red faces, shone and streamed in the torrential summer rain. It is +said that geography makes history. In England, and especially in London, +weather makes a good deal of history. Impossible to brave that rain, except +under the severest pressure of necessity! They were in shelter, and in +shelter they must remain.</p> + +<p>He was glad, absurdly and splendidly glad.</p> + +<p>"It can't last long," she said, looking up at the black sky, which +showed an edge towards the east.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we go in again and have some tea?" he said.</p> + +<p>Now they had barely concluded coffee. But she did not seem to mind.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "it's always tea-time for <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>He saw a clock. "It's nearly four," he said.</p> + +<p>Thus justified of the clock, in they went, and sat down in the same +seats which they had occupied at the commencement of the adventure in the +main lounge. Priam discovered a bell-push, and commanded China tea and +muffins. He felt that he now, as it were, had an opportunity of making a +fresh start in life. He grew almost gay. He could be gay without sinning +against decorum, for Mrs. Challice's singular tact had avoided all +reference to deaths and funerals.</p> + +<p>And in the pause, while he was preparing to be gay, attractive, and in +fact his true self, she, calmly stirring China tea, shot a bolt which made +him see stars.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," she observed, "that we might go farther and fare +worse--both of us."</p> + +<p>He genuinely did not catch the significance of it in the first instant, +and she saw that he did not.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she proceeded, benevolently and reassuringly, "I mean it. I'm not +gallivanting about. I mean that if you want my opinion I fancy we could +make a match of it."</p> + +<p>It was at this point that he saw stars. He also saw a faint and +delicious blush on her face, whose complexion was extraordinarily fresh and +tender.</p> + +<p>She sipped China tea, holding each finger wide apart from the +others.</p> + +<p>He had forgotten the origin of their acquaintance, forgotten that each +of them was supposed to have a definite aim in view, forgotten that it was +with a purpose that they had exchanged photographs. It had not occurred to +him that marriage hung over him like a sword. He perceived the sword now, +heavy and sharp, and suspended by a thread of appalling fragility. He +dodged. He did not want to lose her, never to see her again; but he +dodged.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't think----" he began, and stopped.</p> + +<p>"Of course it's a very awkward situation for a man," she went on, toying +with muffin. "I can quite understand how you feel. And with most folks +you'd be right. There's very few women that can judge character, and if you +started to try and settle something at once they'd just set you down as a +wrong 'un. But I'm not like that. I don't expect any fiddle-faddle. What I +like is plain sense and plain dealing. We both want to get married, so it +would be silly to pretend we didn't, wouldn't it? And it would be +ridiculous of me to look for courting and a proposal, and all that sort of +thing, just as if I'd never seen a man in his shirt-sleeves. The only +question is: shall we suit each other? I've told you what I think. What do +you think?"</p> + +<p>She smiled honestly, kindly, but piercingly.</p> + +<p>What could he say? What would you have said, you being a man? It is +easy, sitting there in your chair, with no Mrs. Alice Challice in front of +you, to invent diplomatic replies; but conceive yourself in Priam's place! +Besides, he did think she would suit him. And most positively he could not +bear the prospect of seeing her pass out of his life. He had been through +that experience once, when his hat blew off in the Tube; and he did not +wish to repeat it.</p> + +<p>"Of course you've got no <i>home</i>!" she said reflectively, with such +compassion. "Suppose you come down and just have a little peep at +mine?"</p> + +<p>So that evening, a suitably paired couple chanced into the fishmonger's +at the corner of Werter Road, and bought a bit of sole. At the newspaper +shop next door but one, placards said: "Impressive Scenes at Westminster +Abbey," "Farll funeral, stately pageant," "Great painter laid to rest," +etc.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>A Putney Morning</i></h2> + + +<p>Except that there was marrying and giving in marriage, it was just as +though he had died and gone to heaven. Heaven is the absence of worry and +of ambition. Heaven is where you want nothing you haven't got. Heaven is +finality. And this was finality. On the September morning, after the +honeymoon and the settling down, he arose leisurely, long after his wife, +and, putting on the puce dressing-gown (which Alice much admired), he +opened the window wider and surveyed that part of the universe which was +comprised in Werter Road and the sky above. A sturdy old woman was coming +down the street with a great basket of assorted flowers; he took an immense +pleasure in the sight of the old woman; the sight of the old woman thrilled +him. Why? Well, there was no reason, except that she was vigorously alive, +a part of the magnificent earth. All life gave him joy; all life was +beautiful to him. He had his warm bath; the bath-room was not of the latest +convenience, but Alice could have made a four-wheeler convenient. As he +passed to and fro on the first-floor he heard the calm, efficient +activities below stairs. She was busy in the mornings; her eyes would seem +to say to him, "Now, between my uprising and lunch-time please don't depend +on me for intellectual or moral support. I am on the spot, but I am also at +the wheel and must not be disturbed."</p> + +<p>Then he descended, fresh as a boy, although the promontory which +prevented a direct vision of his toes showed accretions. The front-room was +a shrine for his breakfast. She served it herself, in her-white apron, +promptly on his arrival! Eggs! Toast! Coffee! It was nothing, that +breakfast; and yet it was everything. No breakfast could have been better. +He had probably eaten about fifteen thousand hotel breakfasts before Alice +taught him what a real breakfast was. After serving it she lingered for a +moment, and then handed him the <i>Daily Telegraph</i>, which had been +lying on a chair.</p> + +<p>"Here's your <i>Telegraph</i>," she said cheerfully, tacitly disowning +any property or interest in the <i>Telegraph</i>. For her, newspapers were +men's toys. She never opened a paper, never wanted to know what was going +on in the world. She was always intent upon her own affairs. Politics--and +all that business of the mere machinery of living: she perfectly ignored +it! She lived. She did nothing but live. She lived every hour. Priam felt +truly that he had at last got down to the bed-rock of life.</p> + +<p>There were twenty pages of the <i>Telegraph</i>, far more matter than a +man could read in a day even if he read and read and neither ate nor slept. +And all of it so soothing in its rich variety! It gently lulled you; it was +the ideal companion for a poached egg; upstanding against the coffee-pot, +it stood for the solidity of England in the seas. Priam folded it large; he +read all the articles down to the fold; then turned the thing over, and +finished all of them. After communing with the <i>Telegraph</i>, he +communed with his own secret nature, and wandered about, rolling a +cigarette. Ah! The first cigarette! His wanderings led him to the kitchen, +or at least as far as the threshold thereof. His wife was at work there. +Upon every handle or article that might soil she put soft brown paper, and +in addition she often wore house-gloves; so that her hands remained +immaculate; thus during the earlier hours of the day the house, especially +in the region of fireplaces, had the air of being in curl-papers.</p> + +<p>"I'm going out now, Alice," he said, after he had drawn on his finely +polished boots.</p> + +<p>"Very well, love," she replied, preoccupied with her work. "Lunch as +usual." She never demanded luxuriousness from him. She had got him. She was +sure of him. That satisfied her. Sometimes, like a simple woman who has +come into a set of pearls, she would, as it were, take him out of his +drawer and look at him, and put him back.</p> + +<p>At the gate he hesitated whether to turn to the left, towards High +Street, or to the right, towards Oxford Road. He chose the right, but he +would have enjoyed himself equally had he chosen the left. The streets +through which he passed were populated by domestic servants and tradesmen's +boys. He saw white-capped girls cleaning door-knobs or windows, or running +along the streets, like escaped nuns, or staring in soft meditation from +bedroom windows. And the tradesmen's boys were continually leaping in and +out of carts, or off and on tricycles, busily distributing food and drink, +as though Putney had been a beleaguered city. It was extremely interesting +and mysterious--and what made it the most mysterious was that the oligarchy +of superior persons for whom these boys and girls so assiduously worked, +remained invisible. He passed a newspaper shop and found his customary +delight in the placards. This morning the <i>Daily Illustrated</i> +announced nothing but: "Portrait of a boy aged 12 who weighs 20 stone." And +the <i>Record</i> whispered in scarlet: "What the German said to the King. +Special." The <i>Journal</i> cried: "Surrey's glorious finish." And the +<i>Courier</i> shouted: "The Unwritten Law in the United States. Another +Scandal."</p> + +<p>Not for gold would he have gone behind these placards to the organs +themselves; he preferred to gather from the placards alone what wonders of +yesterday the excellent staid <i>Telegraph</i> had unaccountably missed. +But in the <i>Financial Times</i> he saw: "Cohoon's Annual Meeting. Stormy +Scenes." And he bought the <i>Financial Times</i> and put it into his +pocket for his wife, because she had an interest in Cohoon's Brewery, and +he conceived the possibility of her caring to glance at the report.</p> + + +<h2><i>The Simple Joy of Life</i></h2> + + +<p>After crossing the South-Western Railway he got into the Upper Richmond +Road, a thoroughfare which always diverted and amused him. It was such a +street of contrasts. Any one could see that, not many years before, it had +been a sacred street, trod only by feet genteel, and made up of houses each +christened with its own name and each standing in its own garden. And now +energetic persons had put churches into it, vast red things with gigantic +bells, and large drapery shops, with blouses at six-and-eleven, and court +photographers, and banks, and cigar-stores, and auctioneers' offices. And +all kinds of omnibuses ran along it. And yet somehow it remained meditative +and superior. In every available space gigantic posters were exhibited. +They all had to do with food or pleasure. There were York hams eight feet +high, that a regiment could not have eaten in a month; shaggy and ferocious +oxen peeping out of monstrous teacups in their anxiety to be consumed; +spouting bottles of ale whose froth alone would have floated the mail +steamers pictured on an adjoining sheet; and forty different decoctions for +imparting strength. Then after a few score yards of invitation to debauch +there came, with characteristic admirable English common sense, a cure for +indigestion, so large that it would have given ease to a mastodon who had +by inadvertence swallowed an elephant. And then there were the calls to +pleasure. Astonishing, the quantity of palaces that offered you exactly the +same entertainment twice over on the same night! Astonishing, the reliance +on number in this matter of amusement! Authenticated statements that a +certain performer had done a certain thing in a certain way a thousand and +one times without interruption were stuck all over the Upper Richmond Road, +apparently in the sure hope that you would rush to see the thousand and +second performance. These performances were invariably styled original and +novel. All the remainder of free wall space was occupied by philanthropists +who were ready to give away cigarettes at the nominal price of a penny a +packet.</p> + +<p>Priam Farll never tired of the phantasmagoria of Upper Richmond Road. +The interminable, intermittent vision of food dead and alive, and of +performers performing the same performance from everlasting to everlasting, +and of millions and millions of cigarettes ascending from the mouths of +handsome young men in incense to heaven--this rare vision, of which in all +his wanderings he had never seen the like, had the singular effect of +lulling his soul into a profound content. Not once did he arrive at the end +of the vision. No! when he reached Barnes Station he could see the vision +still stretching on and on; but, filled to the brim, he would get into an +omnibus and return. The omnibus awoke him to other issues: the omnibus was +an antidote. In the omnibus cleanliness was nigh to godliness. On one pane +a soap was extolled, and on another the exordium, "For this is a true +saying and worthy of all acceptation," was followed by the statement of a +religious dogma; while on another pane was an urgent appeal not to do in +the omnibus what you would not do in a drawing-room. Yes, Priam Farll had +seen the world, but he had never seen a city so incredibly strange, so +packed with curious and rare psychological interest as London. And he +regretted that he had not discovered London earlier in his life-long search +after romance.</p> + +<p>At the corner of the High Street he left the omnibus and stopped a +moment to chat with his tobacconist. His tobacconist was a stout man in a +white apron, who stood for ever behind a counter and sold tobacco to the +most respected residents of Putney. All his ideas were connected either +with tobacco or with Putney. A murder in the Strand to that tobacconist was +less than the breakdown of a motor bus opposite Putney Station; and a +change of government less than a change of programme at the Putney Empire. +A rather pessimistic tobacconist, not inclined to believe in a First Cause, +until one day a drunken man smashed Salmon and Gluckstein's window down the +High Street, whereupon his opinion of Providence went up for several days! +Priam enjoyed talking to him, though the tobacconist was utterly impervious +to ideas and never gave out ideas. This morning the tobacconist was at his +door. At the other corner was the sturdy old woman whom Priam had observed +from his window. She sold flowers.</p> + +<p>"Fine old woman, that!" said Priam heartily, after he and the +tobacconist had agreed upon the fact that it was a glorious morning.</p> + +<p>"She used to be at the opposite corner by the station until last May but +one, when the police shifted her," said the tobacconist.</p> + +<p>"Why did the police shift her?" asked Priam.</p> + +<p>"I don't know as I can tell you," said the tobacconist. "But I remember +her this twelve year."</p> + +<p>"I only noticed her this morning," said Priam. "I saw her from my +bedroom window, coming down the Werter Road. I said to myself, 'She's the +finest old woman I ever saw in my life!'"</p> + +<p>"Did you now!" murmured the tobacconist. "She's rare and dirty."</p> + +<p>"I like her to be dirty," said Priam stoutly. "She ought to be dirty. +She wouldn't be the same if she were clean."</p> + +<p>"I don't hold with dirt," said the tobacconist calmly. "She'd be better +if she had a bath of a Saturday night like other folks."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Priam, "I want an ounce of the usual."</p> + +<p>"Thank <i>you</i>, sir," said the tobacconist, putting down +three-halfpence change out of sixpence as Priam thanked him for the +packet.</p> + +<p>Nothing whatever in such a dialogue! Yet Priam left the shop with a +distinct feeling that life was good. And he plunged into High Street, lost +himself in crowds of perambulators and nice womanly women who were bustling +honestly about in search of food or raiment. Many of them carried little +red books full of long lists of things which they and their admirers and +the offspring of mutual affection had eaten or would shortly eat. In the +High Street all was luxury: not a necessary in the street. Even the bakers' +shops were a mass of sultana and Berlin pancakes. Illuminated calendars, +gramophones, corsets, picture postcards, Manilla cigars, bridge-scorers, +chocolate, exotic fruit, and commodious mansions--these seemed to be the +principal objects offered for sale in High Street. Priam bought a sixpenny +edition of Herbert Spencer's <i>Essays</i> for four-pence-halfpenny, and +passed on to Putney Bridge, whose noble arches divided a first storey of +vans and omnibuses from a ground-floor of barges and racing eights. And he +gazed at the broad river and its hanging gardens, and dreamed; and was +wakened by the roar of an electric train shooting across the stream on a +red causeway a few yards below him. And, miles off, he could descry the +twin towers of the Crystal Palace, more marvellous than mosques!</p> + +<p>"Astounding!" he murmured joyously. He had not a care in the world; and +Putney was all that Alice had painted it. In due time, when bells had +pealed to right and to left of him, he went home to her.</p> + + +<h2><i>Collapse of the Putney System</i></h2> + + +<p>Now, just at the end of lunch, over the last stage of which they usually +sat a long time, Alice got up quickly, in the midst of her Stilton, and, +going to the mantelpiece, took a letter therefrom.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd look at that, Henry," she said, handing him the letter. +"It came this morning, but of course I can't be bothered with that sort of +thing in the morning. So I put it aside."</p> + +<p>He accepted the letter, and unfolded it with the professional +all-knowing air which even the biggest male fool will quite successfully +put on in the presence of a woman if consulted about business. When he had +unfolded the thing--it was typed on stiff, expensive, quarto paper--he read +it. In the lives of beings like Priam Farll and Alice a letter such as that +letter is a terrible event, unique, earth-arresting; simple recipients are +apt, on receiving it, to imagine that the Christian era has come to an end. +But tens of thousands of similar letters are sent out from the City every +day, and the City thinks nothing of them.</p> + +<p>The letter was about Cohoon's Brewery Company, Limited, and it was +signed by a firm of solicitors. It referred to the verbatim report, which +it said would be found in the financial papers, of the annual meeting of +the company held at the Cannon Street Hotel on the previous day, and to the +exceedingly unsatisfactory nature of the Chairman's statement. It regretted +the absence of Mrs. Alice Challice (her change of condition had not yet +reached the heart of Cohoon's) from the meeting, and asked her whether she +would be prepared to support the action of a committee which had been +formed to eject the existing board and which had already a following of +385,000 votes. It finished by asserting that unless the committee was +immediately lifted to absolute power the company would be quite ruined.</p> + +<p>Priam re-read the letter aloud.</p> + +<p>"What does it all mean?" asked Alice quietly.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, "that's what it means."</p> + +<p>"Does it mean--?" she began.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I forgot. I saw something on a placard this +morning about Cohoon's, and I thought it might interest you, so I bought +it." So saying, he drew from his pocket the <i>Financial Times</i>, which +he had entirely forgotten. There it was: a column and a quarter of the +Chairman's speech, and nearly two columns of stormy scenes. The Chairman +was the Marquis of Drumgaldy, but his rank had apparently not shielded him +from the violence of expletives such as "Liar!" "Humbug!" and even "Rogue!" +The Marquis had merely stated, with every formula of apology, that, owing +to the extraordinary depreciation in licensed property, the directors had +not felt justified in declaring any dividend at all on the Ordinary Shares +of the company. He had made this quite simple assertion, and instantly a +body of shareholders, less reasonable and more avaricious even than +shareholders usually are, had begun to turn the historic hall of the Cannon +Street Hotel into a bear garden. One might have imagined that the sole aim +of brewery companies was to make money, and that the patriotism of +old-world brewers, that patriotism which impelled them to supply an honest +English beer to the honest English working-man at a purely nominal price, +was scorned and forgotten. One was, indeed, forced to imagine this. In vain +the Marquis pointed out that the shareholders had received a fifteen per +cent, dividend for years and years past, and that really, for once in a +way, they ought to be prepared to sacrifice a temporary advantage for the +sake of future prosperity. The thought of those regular high dividends gave +rise to no gratitude in shareholding hearts; it seemed merely to render +them the more furious. The baser passions had been let loose in the Cannon +Street Hotel. The directors had possibly been expecting the baser passions, +for a posse of policemen was handy at the door, and one shareholder, to +save him from having the blood of Marquises on his soul, was ejected. +Ultimately, according to the picturesque phrases of the <i>Financial +Times</i> report, the meeting broke up in confusion.</p> + +<p>"How much have you got in Cohoon's?" Priam asked Alice, after they had +looked through the report together.</p> + +<p>"All I have is in Cohoon's," said she, "except this house. Father left +it like that. He always said there was nothing like a brewery. I've heard +him say many and many a time a brewery was better than consols. I think +there's 200 £5 shares. Yes, that's it. But of course they're worth +much more than that. They're worth about £12 each. All I know is they +bring me in £150 a year as regular as the clock. What's that there, +after 'broke up in confusion'?"</p> + +<p>She pointed with her finger to a paragraph, and he read in a low voice +the fluctuations of Cohoon's Ordinary Shares during the afternoon. They had +finished at £6 5s. Mrs. Henry Leek had lost over £1,000 in +about half-a-day.</p> + +<p>"They've always brought me in £150 a year," she insisted, as +though she had been saying: "It's always been Christmas Day on the 25th of +December, and of course it will be the same this year."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't look as if they'd bring you in anything this time," said +he.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Henry!" she protested.</p> + +<p>Beer had failed! That was the truth of it. Beer had failed. Who would +have guessed that beer could fail in England? The wisest, the most prudent +men in Lombard Street had put their trust in beer, as the last grand +bulwark of the nation; and even beer had failed. The foundations of +England's greatness were, if not gone, going. Insufficient to argue bad +management, indiscreet purchases of licences at inflated prices! In the +excellent old days a brewery would stand an indefinite amount of bad +management! Times were changed. The British workman, caught in a wave of +temperance, could no longer be relied upon to drink! It was the crown of +his sins against society. Trade unions were nothing to this latest caprice +of his, which spread desolation in a thousand genteel homes. Alice wondered +what her father would have said, had he lived. On the whole, she was glad +that he did not happen to be alive. The shock to him would have been too +rude. The floor seemed to be giving way under Alice, melting into a sort of +bog that would swallow up her and her husband. For years, without any +precise information, but merely by instinct, she had felt that England, +beneath the surface, was not quite the island it had been--and here was the +awful proof.</p> + +<p>She gazed at her husband, as a wife ought to gaze at her husband in a +crisis. His thoughts were much vaguer than hers, his thoughts about money +being always extremely vague.</p> + +<p>"Suppose you went up to the City and saw Mr. What's-his-name?" she +suggested, meaning the signatory of the letter.</p> + +<p>"<i>Me</i>!"</p> + +<p>It was a cry of the soul aghast, a cry drawn out of him sharply, by a +most genuine cruel alarm. Him to go up to the City to interview a +solicitor! Why, the poor dear woman must be demented! He could not have +done it for a million pounds. The thought of it made him sick, raising the +whole of his lunch to his throat, as by some sinister magic.</p> + +<p>She saw and translated the look on his face. It was a look of horror. +And at once she made excuses for him to herself. At once she said to +herself that it was no use pretending that her Henry was like other men. He +was not. He was a dreamer. He was, at times, amazingly peculiar. But he was +her Henry. In any other man than her Henry a hesitation to take charge of +his wife's financial affairs would have been ridiculous; it would have been +effeminate. But Henry was Henry. She was gradually learning that truth. He +was adorable; but he was Henry. With magnificent strength of mind she +collected herself.</p> + +<p>"No," she said cheerfully. "As they're my shares, perhaps I'd better go. +Unless we <i>both</i> go!" She encountered his eye again, and added +quietly: "No, I'll go alone."</p> + +<p>He sighed his relief. He could not help sighing his relief.</p> + +<p>And, after meticulously washing-up and straightening, she departed, and +Priam remained solitary with his ideas about married life and the fiscal +question.</p> + +<p>Alice was assuredly the very mirror of discretion. Never, since that +unanswered query as to savings at the Grand Babylon, had she subjected him +to any inquisition concerning money. Never had she talked of her own means, +save in casual phrase now and then to assure him that there was enough. She +had indeed refused banknotes diffidently offered to her by him, telling him +to keep them by him till need of them arose. Never had she discoursed of +her own past life, nor led him on to discourse of his. She was one of those +women for whom neither the past nor the future seems to exist--they are +always so occupied with the important present. He and she had both of them +relied on their judgment of character as regarded each other's worthiness +and trustworthiness. And he was the last man in the world to be a +chancellor of the exchequer. To him, money was a quite uninteresting token +that had to pass through your hands. He had always had enough of it. He had +always had too much of it. Even at Putney he had had too much of it. The +better part of Henry Leek's two hundred pounds remained in his pockets, and +under his own will he had his pound a week, of which he never spent more +than a few shillings. His distractions were tobacco (which cost him about +twopence a day), walking about and enjoying colour effects and the oddities +of the streets (which cost him nearly nought), and reading: there were +three shops of Putney where all that is greatest in literature could be +bought for fourpence-halfpenny a volume. Do what he could, he could not +read away more than ninepence a week. He was positively accumulating money. +You may say that he ought to have compelled Alice to accept money. The idea +never occurred to him. In his scheme of things money had not been a matter +of sufficient urgency to necessitate an argument with one's wife. She was +always welcome to all that he had.</p> + +<p>And now suddenly, money acquired urgency in his eyes. It was most +disturbing. He was not frightened: he was merely disturbed. If he had ever +known the sensation of wanting money and not being able to obtain it, he +would probably have been frightened. But this sensation was unfamiliar to +him. Not once in his whole career had he hesitated to change gold from fear +that the end of gold was at hand.</p> + +<p>All kinds of problems crowded round him.</p> + +<p>He went out for a stroll to escape the problems. But they accompanied +him. He walked through exactly the same streets as had delighted him in the +morning. And they had ceased to delight him. This surely could not be ideal +Putney that he was in! It must be some other place of the same name. The +mismanagement of a brewery a hundred and fifty miles from London; the +failure of the British working-man to drink his customary pints in several +scattered scores of public-houses, had most unaccountably knocked the +bottom out of the Putney system of practical philosophy. Putney posters +were now merely disgusting, Putney trade gross and futile, the tobacconist +a narrow-minded and stupid bourgeois; and so on.</p> + +<p>Alice and he met on their doorstep, each in the act of pulling out a +latchkey.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said, when they were inside, "it's done for! There's no +mistake--it's done for! We shan't get a penny this year, not one penny! And +he doesn't think there'll be anything next year either! And the shares'll +go down yet, he says. I never heard of such a thing in all my life! Did +you?"</p> + +<p>He admitted sympathetically that he had not.</p> + +<p>After she had been upstairs and come down again her mood suddenly +changed. "Well," she smiled, "whether we get anything or not, it's +tea-time. So we'll have tea. I've no patience with worrying. I said I +should make pastry after tea, and I will too. See if I don't!"</p> + +<p>The tea was perhaps slightly more elaborate than usual.</p> + +<p>After tea he heard her singing in the kitchen. And he was moved to go +and look at her. There she was, with her sleeves turned back, and a large +pinafore apron over her rich bosom, kneading flour. He would have liked to +approach her and kiss her. But he never could accomplish feats of that kind +at unusual moments.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she laughed. "You can look! <i>I'm</i> not worrying. I've no +patience with worrying."</p> + +<p>Later in the afternoon he went out; rather like a person who has reasons +for leaving inconspicuously. He had made a great, a critical resolve. He +passed furtively down Werter Road into the High Street, and then stood a +moment outside Stawley's stationery shop, which is also a library, an +emporium of leather-bags, and an artists'-colourman's. He entered Stawley's +blushing, trembling--he a man of fifty who could not see his own toes--and +asked for certain tubes of colour. An energetic young lady who seemed to +know all about the graphic arts endeavoured to sell to him a magnificent +and complicated box of paints, which opened out into an easel and a stool, +and contained a palette of a shape preferred by the late Edwin Long, R.A., +a selection of colours which had been approved by the late Lord Leighton, +P.R.A., and a patent drying-oil which (she said) had been used by Whistler. +Priam Farll got away from the shop without this apparatus for the +confection of masterpieces, but he did not get away without a sketching-box +which he had had no intention of buying. The young lady was too energetic +for him. He was afraid of being too curt with her lest she should turn on +him and tell him that pretence was useless--she knew he was Priam Farll. He +felt guilty, and he felt that he looked guilty. As he hurried along the +High Street towards the river with the paint-box it appeared to him that +policemen observed him inimically and cocked their helmets at him, as who +should say: "See here; this won't do. You're supposed to be in Westminster +Abbey. You'll be locked up if you're too brazen."</p> + +<p>The tide was out. He sneaked down to the gravelly shore a little above +the steamer pier, and hid himself between the piles, glancing around him in +a scared fashion. He might have been about to commit a crime. Then he +opened the sketch-box, and oiled the palette, and tried the elasticity of +the brushes on his hand. And he made a sketch of the scene before him. He +did it very quickly--in less than half-an-hour. He had made thousands of +such colour 'notes' in his life, and he would never part with any of them. +He had always hated to part with his notes. Doubtless his cousin Duncan had +them now, if Duncan had discovered his address in Paris, as Duncan probably +had.</p> + +<p>When it was finished, he inspected the sketch, half shutting his eyes +and holding it about three feet off. It was good. Except for a few pencil +scrawls done in sheer absent-mindedness and hastily destroyed, this was the +first sketch he had made since the death of Henry Leek. But it was very +good. "No mistake who's done that!" he murmured; and added: "That's the +devil of it. Any expert would twig it in a minute. There's only one man +that could have done it. I shall have to do something worse than that!" He +shut up the box and with a bang as an amative couple came into sight. He +need not have done so, for the couple vanished instantly in deep disgust at +being robbed of their retreat between the piles.</p> + +<p>Alice was nearing the completion of pastry when he returned in the dusk; +he smelt the delicious proof. Creeping quietly upstairs, he deposited his +brushes in an empty attic at the top of the house. Then he washed his hands +with especial care to remove all odour of paint. And at dinner he +endeavoured to put on the mien of innocence.</p> + +<p>She was cheerful, but it was the cheerfulness of determined effort. They +naturally talked of the situation. It appeared that she had a reserve of +money in the bank--as much as would suffice her for quite six months. He +told her with false buoyancy that there need never be the slightest +difficulty as to money; he had money, and he could always earn more.</p> + +<p>"If you think I'm going to let you go into another situation," she said, +"you're mistaken. That's all." And her lips were firm.</p> + +<p>This staggered him. He never could remember for more than half-an-hour +at a time that he was a retired valet. And it was decidedly not her +practice to remind him of the fact. The notion of himself in a situation as +valet was half ridiculous and half tragical. He could no more be a valet +than he could be a stockbroker or a wire-walker.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't thinking of that," he stammered.</p> + +<p>"Then what were you thinking of?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I don't know!" he said vaguely.</p> + +<p>"Because those things they advertise--homework, envelope addressing, or +selling gramophones on commission--they're no good, you know!"</p> + +<p>He shuddered.</p> + +<p>The next morning he bought a 36 x 24 canvas, and more brushes and tubes, +and surreptitiously introduced them into the attic. Happily it was the +charwoman's day and Alice was busy enough to ignore him. With an old table +and the tray out of a travelling-trunk, he arranged a substitute for an +easel, and began to try to paint a bad picture from his sketch. But in a +quarter of an hour he discovered that he was exactly as fitted to paint a +bad picture as to be a valet. He could not sentimentalize the tones, nor +falsify the values. He simply could not; the attempt to do so annoyed him. +All men are capable of stooping beneath their highest selves, and in +several directions Priam Farll could have stooped. But not on canvas! He +could only produce his best. He could only render nature as he saw nature. +And it was instinct, rather than conscience, that prevented him from +stooping.</p> + +<p>In three days, during which he kept Alice out of the attic partly by +lies and partly by locking the door, the picture was finished; and he had +forgotten all about everything except his profession. He had become a +different man, a very excited man.</p> + +<p>"By Jove," he exclaimed, surveying the picture, "I can paint!"</p> + +<p>Artists do occasionally soliloquize in this way.</p> + +<p>The picture was dazzling! What atmosphere! What poetry! And what +profound fidelity to nature's facts! It was precisely such a picture as he +was in the habit of selling for £800 or a £1,000, before his +burial in Westminster Abbey! Indeed, the trouble was that it had 'Priam +Farll' written all over it, just as the sketch had!</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>The Confession</i></h2> + + +<p>That evening he was very excited, and he seemed to take no thought to +disguise his excitement. The fact was, he could not have disguised it, even +if he had tried. The fever of artistic creation was upon him--all the old +desires and the old exhausting joys. His genius had been lying idle, like a +lion in a thicket, and now it had sprung forth ravening. For months he had +not handled a brush; for months his mind had deliberately avoided the +question of painting, being content with the observation only of beauty. A +week ago, if he had deliberately asked himself whether he would ever paint +again, he might have answered, "Perhaps not." Such is man's ignorance of +his own nature! And now the lion of his genius was standing over him, its +paw on his breast, and making a great noise.</p> + +<p>He saw that the last few months had been merely an interlude, that he +would be forced to paint--or go mad; and that nothing else mattered. He saw +also that he could only paint in one way--Priam Farll's way. If it was +discovered that Priam Farll was not buried in Westminster Abbey; if there +was a scandal, and legal unpleasantness--well, so much the worse! But he +must paint.</p> + +<p>Not for money, mind you! Incidentally, of course, he would earn money. +But he had already quite forgotten that life has its financial aspect.</p> + +<p>So in the sitting-room in Werter Road, he walked uneasily to and fro, +squeezing between the table and the sideboard, and then skirting the +fireplace where Alice sat with a darning apparatus upon her knees, and her +spectacles on--she wore spectacles when she had to look fixedly at very +dark objects. The room was ugly in a pleasant Putneyish way, with a couple +of engravings after B.W. Leader, R.A., a too realistic wall-paper, hot +brown furniture with ribbed legs, a carpet with the characteristics of a +retired governess who has taken to drink, and a black cloud on the ceiling +over the incandescent burners. Happily these surroundings did not annoy +him. They did not annoy him because he never saw them. When his eyes were +not resting on beautiful things, they were not in this world of reality at +all. His sole idea about house-furnishing was an easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"Harry," said his wife, "don't you think you'd better sit down?"</p> + +<p>The calm voice of common sense stopped him in his circular tour. He +glanced at Alice, and she, removing her spectacles, glanced at him. The +seal on his watch-chain dangled free. He had to talk to some one, and his +wife was there--not only the most convenient but the most proper person to +talk to. A tremendous impulse seized him to tell her everything; she would +understand; she always did understand; and she never allowed herself to be +startled. The most singular occurrences, immediately they touched her, were +somehow transformed into credible daily, customary events. Thus the +disaster of the brewery! She had accepted it as though the ruins of +breweries were a spectacle to be witnessed at every street-corner.</p> + +<p>Yes, he should tell her. Three minutes ago he had no intention of +telling her, or any one, anything. He decided in an instant. To tell her +his secret would lead up naturally to the picture which he had just +finished.</p> + +<p>"I say, Alice," he said, "I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I wish you'd talk to me sitting down. I don't know +what's come over you this last day or two."</p> + +<p>He sat down. He did not feel really intimate with her at that moment. +And their marriage seemed to him, in a way, artificial, scarcely a fact. He +did not know that it takes years to accomplish full intimacy between +husband and wife.</p> + +<p>"You know," he said, "Henry Leek isn't my real name."</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't it?" she said. "What does that matter?"</p> + +<p>She was not in the least surprised to hear that Henry Leek was not his +real name. She was a wise woman, and knew the strangeness of the world. And +she had married him simply because he was himself, because he existed in a +particular manner (whose charm for her she could not have described) from +hour to hour.</p> + +<p>"So long as you haven't committed a murder or anything," she added, with +her tranquil smile.</p> + +<p>"My real name is Priam Farll," he said gruffly. The gruffness was caused +by timidity.</p> + +<p>"I thought Priam Farll was your gentleman's name."</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth," he said nervously, "there was a mistake. That +photograph that was sent to you was my photograph."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "I know it was. And what of it?"</p> + +<p>"I mean," he blundered on, "it was my valet that died--not me. You see, +the doctor, when he came, thought that Leek was me, and I didn't tell him +differently, because I was afraid of all the bother. I just let it +slide--and there were other reasons. You know how I am...."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.</p> + +<p>"Can't you understand? It's simple enough. I'm Priam Farll, and I had a +valet named Henry Leek, and he died, and they thought it was me. Only it +wasn't."</p> + +<p>He saw her face change and then compose itself.</p> + +<p>"Then it's this Henry Leek that is buried in Westminster Abbey, instead +of you?" Her voice was very soft and soothing. And the astonishing woman +resumed her spectacles and her long needle.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course."</p> + +<p>Here he burst into the whole story, into the middle of it, continuing to +the end, and then going back to the commencement. He left out nothing, and +nobody, except Lady Sophia Entwistle.</p> + +<p>"I see," she observed. "And you've never said a word?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word."</p> + +<p>"If I were you I should still keep perfectly silent about it," she +almost whispered persuasively. "It'll be just as well. If I were you, I +shouldn't worry myself. I can quite understand how it happened, and I'm +glad you've told me. But don't worry. You've been exciting yourself these +last two or three days. I thought it was about my money business, but I see +it wasn't. At least that may have brought it on, like. Now the best thing +you can do is to forget it."</p> + +<p>She did not believe him! She simply discredited the whole story; and, +told in Werter Road, like that, the story did sound fantastic; it did come +very near to passing belief. She had always noticed a certain queerness in +her husband. His sudden gaieties about a tint in the sky or the gesture of +a horse in the street, for example, were most uncanny. And he had peculiar +absences of mind that she could never account for. She was sure that he +must have been a very bad valet. However, she did not marry him for a +valet, but for a husband; and she was satisfied with her bargain. What if +he did suffer under a delusion? The exposure of that delusion merely +crystallized into a definite shape her vague suspicions concerning his +mentality. Besides, it was a harmless delusion. And it explained things. It +explained, among other things, why he had gone to stay at the Grand Babylon +Hotel. That must have been the inception of the delusion. She was glad to +know the worst.</p> + +<p>She adored him more than ever.</p> + +<p>There was a silence.</p> + +<p>"No," she repeated, in the most matter-of-fact tone, "I should say +nothing, in your place. I should forget it."</p> + +<p>"You would?" He drummed on the table.</p> + +<p>"I should! And whatever you do, don't worry." Her accents were the +coaxing accents of a nurse with a child--or with a lunatic.</p> + +<p>He perceived now with the utmost clearness that she did not believe a +word of what he had said, and that in her magnificent and calm sagacity she +was only trying to humour him. He had expected to disturb her soul to its +profoundest depths; he had expected that they would sit up half the night +discussing the situation. And lo!--"I should forget it," indulgently! And a +mild continuance of darning!</p> + +<p>He had to think, and think hard.</p> + + +<h2><i>Tears</i></h2> + + +<p>"Henry," she called out the next morning, as he disappeared up the +stairs. "What <i>are</i> you doing up there?"</p> + +<p>She had behaved exactly as if nothing had happened; and she was one of +those women whose prudent policy it is to let their men alone even to the +furthest limit of patience; but she had nerves, too, and they were being +affected. For three days Henry had really been too mysterious!</p> + +<p>He stopped, and put his head over the banisters, and in a queer, moved +voice answered:</p> + +<p>"Come and see."</p> + +<p>Sooner or later she must see. Sooner or later the already distended +situation must get more and more distended until it burst with a loud +report. Let the moment be sooner, he swiftly decided.</p> + +<p>So she went and saw.</p> + +<p>Half-way up the attic stairs she began to sniff, and as he turned the +knob of the attic door for her she said, "What a smell of paint! I fancied +yesterday----"</p> + +<p>If she had been clever enough she would have said, "What a smell of +masterpieces!" But her cleverness lay in other fields.</p> + +<p>"You surely haven't been aspinalling that bath-room chair?... Oh!"</p> + +<p>This loud exclamation escaped from her as she entered the attic and saw +the back of the picture which Priam had lodged on the said bath-room +chair--filched by him from the bath-room on the previous day. She stepped +to the vicinity of the window and obtained a good view of the picture. It +was brilliantly shining in the light of morn. It looked glorious; it was a +fit companion of many pictures from the same hand distributed among +European galleries. It had that priceless quality, at once noble and +radiant, which distinguished all Priam's work. It transformed the attic; +and thousands of amateurs and students, from St. Petersburg to San +Francisco, would have gone into that attic with their hats off and a thrill +in the spine, had they known what was there and had they been invited to +enter and worship. Priam himself was pleased; he was delighted; he was +enthusiastic. And he stood near the picture, glancing at it and then +glancing at Alice, nervously, like a mother whose sister-in-law has come to +look at the baby. As for Alice, she said nothing. She had first of all to +take in the fact that her husband had been ungenerous enough to keep her +quite in the dark as to the nature of his secret activities; then she had +to take in the fact of the picture.</p> + +<p>"Did you do that?" she said limply.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said he, with all the casualness that he could assume. "How does +it strike you?" And to himself: "This'll make her see I'm not a mere +lunatic. This'll give her a shaking up."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it's beautiful," she said kindly, but without the slightest +conviction. "What is it? Is that Putney Bridge?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was. I thought it must be. Well, I never knew you could +paint. It's beautiful--for an amateur." She said this firmly and yet +endearingly, and met his eyes with her eyes. It was her tactful method of +politely causing him to see that she had not accepted last night's yarn +very seriously. His eyes fell, not hers.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" he expostulated with quick vivacity, as she stepped +towards the canvas. "Don't come any nearer. You're at just the right +distance."</p> + +<p>"Oh! If you don't <i>want</i> me to see it close," she humoured him. +"What a pity you haven't put an omnibus on the bridge!"</p> + +<p>"There is one," said he. "<i>That's</i> one." He pointed.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes! Yes, I see. But, you know, I think it looks rather more like a +Carter Paterson van than an omnibus. If you could paint some letters on +it--'Union Jack' or 'Vanguard,' then people would be sure. But it's +beautiful. I suppose you learnt to to paint from your--" She checked +herself. "What's that red streak behind?"</p> + +<p>"That's the railway bridge," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course it is! How silly of me! Now if you were to put a train on +that. The worst of trains in pictures is that they never seem to be going +along. I've noticed that on the sides of furniture vans, haven't you? But +if you put a signal, against it, then people would understand that the +train had stopped. I'm not sure whether there <i>is</i> a signal on the +bridge, though."</p> + +<p>He made no remark.</p> + +<p>"And I see that's the Elk public-house there on the right. You've just +managed to get it in. I can recognize that quite easily. Any one +would."</p> + +<p>He still made no remark.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with it?" she asked gently.</p> + +<p>"Going to sell it, my dear," he replied grimly. "It may surprise you to +know that that canvas is worth at the very least £800. There would be +a devil of a row and rumpus in Bond Street and elsewhere if they knew I was +painting here instead of rotting in Westminster Abbey. I don't propose to +sign it--I seldom did sign my pictures--and we shall see what we shall +see.... I've got fifteen hundred for little things not so good as that. +I'll let it go for what it'll fetch. We shall soon be wanting money."</p> + +<p>The tears rose to Alice's eyes. She saw that he was more infinitely more +mad than she imagined--with his £800 and his £1,500 for daubs +of pictures that conveyed no meaning whatever to the eye! Why, you could +purchase real, professional pictures, of lakes, and mountains, exquisitely +finished, at the frame-makers in High Street for three pounds apiece! And +here he was rambling in hundreds and thousands! She saw that that +extraordinary notion about being able to paint was a natural consequence of +the pathetic delusion to which he had given utterance yesterday. And she +wondered what would follow next. Who could have guessed that the seeds of +lunacy were in such a man? Yes, harmless lunacy, but lunacy nevertheless! +She distinctly remembered the little shock with which she had learned that +he was staying at the Grand Babylon on his own account, as a wealthy +visitor. She thought it bizarre, but she certainly had not taken it for a +sign of lunacy. And yet it had been a sign of madness. And the worst of +harmless lunacy was that it might develop at any moment into harmful +lunacy.</p> + +<p>There was one thing to do, and only one: keep him quiet, shield him from +all troubles and alarms. It was disturbance of spirit which induced these +mental derangements. His master's death had upset him. And now he had been +upset by her disgraceful brewery company.</p> + +<p>She made a step towards him, and then hesitated. She had to form a plan +of campaign all in a moment! She had to keep her wits and to use them! How +could she give him confidence about his absurd picture? She noticed that +naïve look that sometimes came into his eyes, a boyish expression that +gave the He to his greying beard and his generous proportions.</p> + +<p>He laughed, until, as she came closer, he saw the tears on her eyelids. +Then he ceased laughing. She fingered the edge of his coat, cajolingly.</p> + +<p>"It's a beautiful picture!" she repeated again and again. "And if you +like I will see if I can sell it for you. But, Henry----"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Please, please don't bother about money. We shall have <i>heaps</i>. +There's no occasion for you to bother, and I won't <i>have</i> you +bothering."</p> + +<p>"What are you crying for?" he asked in a murmur.</p> + +<p>"It's only--only because I think it's so nice of you trying to earn +money like that," she lied. "I'm not really crying."</p> + +<p>And she ran away, downstairs, really crying. It was excessively comic, +but he had better not follow her, lest he might cry too....</p> + + +<h2><i>A Patron of the Arts</i></h2> + + +<p>A lull followed this crisis in the affairs of No. 29 Werter Road. Priam +went on painting, and there was now no need for secrecy about it. But his +painting was not made a subject of conversation. Both of them hesitated to +touch it, she from tact, and he because her views on the art seemed to him +to be lacking in subtlety. In every marriage there is a topic--there are +usually several--which the husband will never broach to the wife, out of +respect for his respect for her. Priam scarcely guessed that Alice imagined +him to be on the way to lunacy. He thought she merely thought him queer, as +artists <i>are</i> queer to non-artists. And he was accustomed to that; +Henry Leek had always thought him queer. As for Alice's incredulous +attitude towards the revelation of his identity, he did not mentally accuse +her of treating him as either a liar or a madman. On reflection he +persuaded himself that she regarded the story as a bad joke, as one of his +impulsive, capricious essays in the absurd.</p> + +<p>Thus the march of evolution was apparently arrested in Werter Road +during three whole days. And then a singular event happened, and progress +was resumed. Priam had been out since early morning on the riverside, +sketching, and had reached Barnes, from which town he returned over Barnes +Common, and so by the Upper Richmond Road to High Street. He was on the +south side of Upper Richmond Road, whereas his tobacconist's shop was on +the north side, near the corner. An unfamiliar peculiarity of the shop +caused him to cross the street, for he was not in want of tobacco. It was +the look of the window that drew him. He stopped on the refuge in the +centre of the street. There was no necessity to go further. His picture of +Putney Bridge was in the middle of the window. He stared at it fixedly. He +believed his eyes, for his eyes were the finest part of him and never +deceived him; but perhaps if he had been a person with ordinary eyes he +would scarce have been able to believe them. The canvas was indubitably +there present in the window. It had been put in a cheap frame such as is +used for chromographic advertisements of ships, soups, and tobacco. He was +almost sure that he had seen that same frame, within the shop, round a +pictorial announcement of Taddy's Snuff. The tobacconist had probably +removed the eighteenth-century aristocrat with his fingers to his nose, +from the frame, and replaced him with Putney Bridge. In any event the frame +was about half-an-inch too long for the canvas, but the gap was scarcely +observable. On the frame was a large notice, 'For sale.' And around it were +the cigars of two hemispheres, from Syak Whiffs at a penny each to precious +Murias; and cigarettes of every allurement; and the multitudinous fragments +of all advertised tobaccos; and meerschaums and briars, and patent pipes +and diagrams of their secret machinery; and cigarette-and cigar-holders +laid on plush; and pocket receptacles in aluminium and other precious +metals.</p> + +<p>Shining there, the picture had a most incongruous appearance. He blushed +as he stood on the refuge. It seemed to him that the mere incongruity of +the spectacle must inevitably attract crowds, gradually blocking the +street, and that when some individual not absolutely a fool in art, had +perceived the quality of the picture--well, then the trouble of public +curiosity and of journalistic inquisitiveness would begin. He wondered that +he could ever have dreamed of concealing his identity on a canvas. The +thing simply shouted 'Priam Farll,' every inch of it. In any exhibition of +pictures in London, Paris, Rome, Milan, Munich, New York or Boston, it +would have been the cynosure, the target of ecstatic admirations. It was +just such another work as his celebrated 'Pont d'Austerlitz,' which hung in +the Luxembourg. And neither a frame of 'chemical gold,' nor the extremely +variegated coloration of the other merchandise on sale could kill it.</p> + +<p>However, there were no signs of a crowd. People passed to and fro, just +as though there had not been a masterpiece within ten thousand miles of +them. Once a servant girl, a loaf of bread in her red arms, stopped to +glance at the window, but in an instant she was gone, running.</p> + +<p>Priam's first instinctive movement had been to plunge into the shop, and +demand from his tobacconist an explanation of the phenomenon. But of course +he checked himself. Of course he knew that the presence of his picture in +the window could only be due to the enterprise of Alice.</p> + +<p>He went slowly home.</p> + +<p>The sound of his latchkey in the keyhole brought her into the hall ere +he had opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Henry," she said--she was quite excited--"I must tell you. I was +passing Mr. Aylmer's this morning just as he was dressing his window, and +the thought struck me that he might put your picture in. So I ran in and +asked him. He said he would if he could have it at once. So I came and got +it. He found a frame, and wrote out a ticket, and asked after you. No one +could have been kinder. You must go and have a look at it. I shouldn't be +at all surprised if it gets sold like that."</p> + +<p>Priam answered nothing for a moment. He could not.</p> + +<p>"What did Aylmer say about it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said his wife quickly, "you can't expect Mr. Aylmer to understand +these things. It's not in his line. But he was glad to oblige us. I saw he +arranged it nicely."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Priam discreetly, "that's all right. Suppose we have +lunch?"</p> + +<p>Curious--her relations with Mr. Aylmer! It was she who had recommended +him to go to Mr. Aylmer's when, on the first morning of his residence in +Putney, he had demanded, "Any decent tobacconists in this happy region?" He +suspected that, had it not been for Aylmer's beridden and incurable wife, +Alice's name might have been Aylmer. He suspected Aylmer of a hopeless +passion for Alice. He was glad that Alice had not been thrown away on +Aylmer. He could not imagine himself now without Alice. In spite of her +ideas on the graphic arts, Alice was his air, his atmosphere, his oxygen; +and also his umbrella to shield him from the hail of untoward +circumstances. Curious--the process of love! It was the power of love that +had put that picture in the tobacconist's window.</p> + +<p>Whatever power had put it there, no power seemed strong enough to get it +out again. It lay exposed in the window for weeks and never drew a crowd, +nor caused a sensation of any kind! Not a word in the newspapers! London, +the acknowledged art-centre of the world, calmly went its ways. The sole +immediate result was that Priam changed his tobacconist, and the direction +of his promenades.</p> + +<p>At last another singular event happened.</p> + +<p>Alice beamingly put five sovereigns into Priam's hand one evening.</p> + +<p>"It's been sold for five guineas," she said, joyous. "Mr. Aylmer didn't +want to keep anything for himself, but I insisted on his having the odd +shillings. I think it's splendid, simply splendid! Of course I always +<i>did</i> think it was a beautiful picture," she added.</p> + +<p>The fact was that this astounding sale for so large a sum as five +pounds, of a picture done in the attic by her Henry, had enlarged her ideas +of Henry's skill. She could no longer regard his painting as the caprice of +a gentle lunatic. There was something <i>in</i> it. And now she wanted to +persuade herself that she had known from the first there was something in +it.</p> + +<p>The picture had been bought by the eccentric and notorious landlord of +the Elk Hotel, down by the river, on a Sunday afternoon when he was--not +drunk, but more optimistic than the state of English society warrants. He +liked the picture because his public-house was so unmistakably plain in it. +He ordered a massive gold frame for it, and hung it in his saloon-bar. His +career as a patron of the arts was unfortunately cut short by an order +signed by his doctors for his incarceration in a lunatic asylum. All Putney +had been saying for years that he would end in the asylum, and all Putney +was right.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>An Invasion</i></h2> + + +<p>One afternoon, in December, Priam and Alice were in the sitting-room +together, and Alice was about to prepare tea. The drawn-thread cloth was +laid diagonally on the table (because Alice had seen cloths so laid on +model tea-tables in model rooms at Waring's), the strawberry jam occupied +the northern point of the compass, and the marmalade was antarctic, while +brittle cakes and spongy cakes represented the occident and the orient +respectively. Bread-and-butter stood, rightly, for the centre of the +universe. Silver ornamented the spread, and Alice's two tea-pots (for she +would never allow even Chinese tea to remain on the leaves for more than +five minutes) and Alice's water-jug with the patent balanced lid, occupied +a tray off the cloth. At some distance, but still on the table, a kettle +moaned over a spirit-lamp. Alice was cutting bread for toast. The fire was +of the right redness for toast, and a toasting-fork lay handy. As winter +advanced, Alice's teas had a tendency to become cosier and cosier, and also +more luxurious, more of a ritualistic ceremony. And to avoid the trouble +and danger of going through a cold passage to the kitchen, she arranged +matters so that the entire operation could be performed with comfort and +decency in the sitting-room itself.</p> + +<p>Priam was rolling cigarettes, many of them, and placing them, as he +rolled them, in order on the mantelpiece. A happy, mild couple! And a +couple, one would judge from the richness of the tea, with no immediate +need of money. Over two years, however, had passed since the catastrophe to +Cohoon's, and Cohoon's had in no way recovered therefrom. Yet money had +been regularly found for the household. The manner of its finding was soon +to assume importance in the careers of Priam and Alice. But, ere that +moment, an astonishing and vivid experience happened to them. One might +have supposed that, in the life of Priam Farll at least, enough of the +astonishing and the vivid had already happened. Nevertheless, what had +already happened was as customary and unexciting as addressing envelopes, +compared to the next event.</p> + +<p>The next event began at the instant when Alice was sticking the long +fork into a round of bread. There was a knock at the front door, a knock +formidable and reverberating, the knock of fate, perhaps, but fate +disguised as a coalheaver.</p> + +<p>Alice answered it. She always answered knocks; Priam never. She shielded +him from every rough or unexpected contact, just as his valet used to do. +The gas in the hall was not lighted, and so she stopped to light it, +darkness having fallen. Then she opened the door, and saw, in the gloom, a +short, thin woman standing on the step, a woman of advanced middle-age, +dressed with a kind of shabby neatness. It seemed impossible that so frail +and unimportant a creature could have made such a noise on the door.</p> + +<p>"Is this Mr. Henry Leek's?" asked the visitor, in a dissatisfied, rather +weary tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Alice. Which was not quite true. 'This' was assuredly hers, +rather than her husband's.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the woman, glancing behind her; and entered nervously, +without invitation.</p> + +<p>At the same moment three male figures sprang, or rushed, out of the +strip of front garden, and followed the woman into the hall, lunging up +against Alice, and breathing loudly. One of the trio was a strong, +heavy-faced heavy-handed, louring man of some thirty years (it seemed +probable that he was the knocker), and the others were curates, with the +proper physical attributes of curates; that is to say, they were of ascetic +habit and clean-shaven and had ingenuous eyes.</p> + +<p>The hall now appeared like the antechamber of a May-meeting, and as +Alice had never seen it so peopled before, she vented a natural exclamation +of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said one of the curates, fiercely. "You may say 'Lord,' but we +were determined to get in, and in we have got. John, shut the door. Mother, +don't put yourself about."</p> + +<p>John, being the heavy-faced and heavy-handed man, shut the door.</p> + +<p>"Where is Mr. Henry Leek?" demanded the other curate.</p> + +<p>Now Priam, whose curiosity had been excusably excited by the unusual +sounds in the hall, was peeping through a chink of the sitting-room door, +and the elderly woman caught the glint of his eyes. She pushed open the +door, and, after a few seconds' inspection of him, said:</p> + +<p>"There you are, Henry! After thirty years! To think of it!"</p> + +<p>Priam was utterly at a loss.</p> + +<p>"I'm his wife, ma'am," the visitor continued sadly to Alice. "I'm sorry +to have to tell you. I'm his wife. I'm the rightful Mrs. Henry Leek, and +these are my sons, come with me to see that I get justice."</p> + +<p>Alice recovered very quickly from the shock of amazement. She was a +woman not easily to be startled by the vagaries of human nature. She had +often heard of bigamy, and that her husband should prove to be a bigamist +did not throw her into a swoon. She at once, in her own mind, began to make +excuses for him. She said to herself, as she inspected the real Mrs. Henry +Leek, that the real Mrs. Henry Leek had certainly the temperament which +manufactures bigamists. She understood how a person may slide into bigamy. +And after thirty years!... She never thought of bigamy as a crime, nor did +it occur to her to run out and drown herself for shame because she was not +properly married to Priam!</p> + +<p>No, it has to be said in favour of Alice that she invariably took things +as they were.</p> + +<p>"I think you'd better all come in and sit down quietly," she said.</p> + +<p>"Eh! It's very kind of you," said the mother of the curates, limply.</p> + +<p>The last thing that the curates wanted to do was to sit down quietly. +But they had to sit down. Alice made them sit side by side on the sofa. The +heavy, elder brother, who had not spoken a word, sat on a chair between the +sideboard and the door. Their mother sat on a chair near the table. Priam +fell into his easy-chair between the fireplace and the sideboard. As for +Alice, she remained standing; she showed no nervousness except in her +handling of the toasting-fork.</p> + +<p>It was a great situation. But unfortunately ordinary people are so +unaccustomed to the great situation, that, when it chances to come, they +feel themselves incapable of living up to it. A person gazing in at the +window, and unacquainted with the facts, might have guessed that the affair +was simply a tea party at which the guests had arrived a little too soon +and where no one was startlingly proficient in the art of small-talk.</p> + +<p>Still, the curates were apparently bent on doing their best.</p> + +<p>"Now, mother!" one of them urged her.</p> + +<p>The mother, as if a spring had been touched in her, began: "He married +me just thirty years ago, ma'am; and four months after my eldest was +born--that's John there"--(pointing to the corner near the door)--"he just +walked out of the house and left me. I'm sorry to have to say it. Yes, +sorry I am! But there it is. And never a word had I ever given him! And +eight months after that my twins were born. That's Harry and +Matthew"--(pointing to the sofa)--"Harry I called after his father because +I thought he was like him, and just to show I bore no ill-feeling, and +hoping he'd come back! And there I was with these little children! And not +a word of explanation did I ever have. I heard of Harry five years +later--when Johnnie was nearly five--but he was on the Continent and I +couldn't go traipsing about with three babies. Besides, if I <i>had</i> +gone!... Sorry I am to say it, ma'am; but many's the time he's beaten me, +yes, with his hands and his fists! He's knocked me about above a bit. And I +never gave him a word back. He was my husband, for better for worse, and I +forgave him and I still do. Forgive and forget, that's what I say. We only +heard of him through Matthew being second curate at St. Paul's, and in +charge of the mission hall. It was your milkman that happened to tell +Matthew that he had a customer same name as himself. And you know how one +thing leads to another. So we're here!"</p> + +<p>"I never saw this lady in my life," said Priam excitedly, "and I'm +absolutely certain I never married her. I never married any one; except, of +course, you, Alice!"</p> + +<p>"Then how do you explain this, sir?" exclaimed Matthew, the younger +twin, jumping up and taking a blue paper from his pocket. "Be so good as to +pass this to father," he said, handing the paper to Alice.</p> + +<p>Alice inspected the document. It was a certificate of the marriage of +Henry Leek, valet, and Sarah Featherstone, spinster, at a registry office +in Paddington. Priam also inspected it. This was one of Leek's escapades! +No revelations as to the past of Henry Leek would have surprised him. There +was nothing to be done except to give a truthful denial of identity and to +persist in that denial. Useless to say soothingly to the lady visitor that +she was the widow of a gentleman who had been laid to rest in Westminster +Abbey!</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about it," said Priam doggedly.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you'll not deny, sir, that your name is Henry Leek," said +Henry, jumping up to stand by Matthew.</p> + +<p>"I deny everything," said Priam doggedly. How could he explain? If he +had not been able to convince Alice that he was not Henry Leek, could he +hope to convince these visitors?</p> + +<p>"I suppose, madam," Henry continued, addressing Alice in impressive +tones as if she were a crowded congregation, "that at any rate you and my +father are--er--living here together under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Henry +Leek?"</p> + +<p>Alice merely lifted her eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"It's all a mistake," said Priam impatiently. Then he had a brilliant +inspiration. "As if there was only one Henry Leek in the world!"</p> + +<p>"Do you really recognize my husband?" Alice asked.</p> + +<p>"Your husband, madam!" Matthew protested, shocked.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't say that I recognized him as he <i>was</i>," said the real +Mrs. Henry Leek. "No more than he recognizes me. After thirty +years!....Last time I saw him he was only twenty-two or twenty-three. But +he's the same sort of man, and he has the same eyes. And look at Henry's +eyes. Besides, I heard twenty-five years ago that he'd gone into service +with a Mr. Priam Farll, a painter or something, him that was buried in +Westminster Abbey. And everybody in Putney knows that this +gentleman----"</p> + +<p>"Gentleman!" murmured Matthew, discontented.</p> + +<p>"Was valet to Mr. Priam Farll. We've heard that everywhere."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you'll not deny," said Henry the younger, "that Priam Farll +wouldn't be likely to have <i>two</i> valets named Henry Leek?"</p> + +<p>Crushed by this Socratic reasoning, Priam kept silence, nursing his +knees and staring into the fire.</p> + +<p>Alice went to the sideboard where she kept her best china, and took out +three extra cups and saucers.</p> + +<p>"I think we'd all better have some tea," she said tranquilly. And then +she got the tea-caddy and put seven teaspoonfuls of tea into one of the +tea-pots.</p> + +<p>"It's very kind of you, I'm sure," whimpered the authentic Mrs. Henry +Leek.</p> + +<p>"Now, mother, don't give way!" the curates admonished her.</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember, Henry," she went on whimpering to Priam, "how you +said you wouldn't be married in a church, not for anybody? And how I gave +way to you, like I always did? And don't you remember how you wouldn't let +poor little Johnnie be baptized? Well, I do hope your opinions have +altered. Eh, but it's strange, it's strange, how two of your sons, and just +them two that you'd never set eyes on until this day, should have made up +their minds to go into the church! And thanks to Johnnie there, they've +been able to. If I was to tell you all the struggles we've had, you +wouldn't believe me. They were clerks, and they might have been clerks to +this day, if it hadn't been for Johnnie. But Johnnie could always earn +money. It's that engineering! And now Matthew's second curate at St. Paul's +and getting fifty pounds a year, and Henry'll have a curacy next month at +Bermondsey--it's been promised, and all thanks to Johnnie!" She wept.</p> + +<p>Johnnie, in the corner, who had so far done nought but knock at the +door, maintained stiffly his policy of non-interference.</p> + +<p>Priam Farll, angry, resentful, and quite untouched by the recital, +shrugged his shoulders. He was animated by the sole desire to fly from the +widow and progeny of his late valet. But he could not fly. The Herculean +John was too close to the door. So he shrugged his shoulders a second +time.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said Matthew, "you may shrug your shoulders, but you can't +shrug us out of existence. Here we are, and you can't get over us. You are +our father, and I presume that a kind of respect is due to you. Yet how can +you hope for our respect? Have you earned it? Did you earn it when you +ill-treated our poor mother? Did you earn it when you left her, with the +most inhuman cruelty, to fend for herself in the world? Did you earn it +when you abandoned your children born and unborn? You are a bigamist, sir; +a deceiver of women! Heaven knows--"</p> + +<p>"Would you mind just toasting this bread?" Alice interrupted his +impassioned discourse by putting the loaded toasting-fork into his hands, +"while I make the tea?"</p> + +<p>It was a novel way of stopping a mustang in full career, but it +succeeded.</p> + +<p>While somewhat perfunctorily holding the fork to the fire, Matthew +glared about him, to signify his righteous horror, and other +sentiments.</p> + +<p>"Please don't burn it," said Alice gently. "Suppose you were to sit down +on this foot-stool." And then she poured boiling water on the tea, put the +lid on the pot, and looked at the clock to note the exact second at which +the process of infusion had begun.</p> + +<p>"Of course," burst out Henry, the twin of Matthew, "I need not say, +madam, that you have all our sympathies. You are in a----"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean me?" Alice asked.</p> + +<p>In an undertone Priam could be heard obstinately repeating, "Never set +eyes upon her before! Never set eyes on the woman before!"</p> + +<p>"I do, madam," said Henry, not to be cowed nor deflected from his +course. "I speak for all of us. You have our sympathies. You could not know +the character of the man you married, or rather with whom you went through +the ceremony of marriage. However, we have heard, by inquiry, that you made +his acquaintance through the medium of a matrimonial agency; and +indirectly, when one does that sort of thing, one takes one's chance. Your +position is an extremely delicate one; but it is not too much to say that +you brought it on yourself. In my work, I have encountered many sad +instances of the result of lax moral principles; but I little thought to +encounter the saddest of all in my own family. The discovery is just as +great a blow to us as it is to you. We have suffered; my mother has +suffered. And now, I fear, it is your turn to suffer. You are not this +man's wife. Nothing can make you his wife. You are living in the same house +with him--under circumstances--er--without a chaperon. I hesitate to +characterize your situation in plain words. It would scarcely become me, or +mine, to do so. But really no lady could possibly find herself in a +situation more false than--I am afraid there is only one word, open +immorality, and--er--to put yourself right with society there is one thing, +and only one, left for you to--er--do. I--I speak for the family, and +I--"</p> + +<p>"Sugar?" Alice questioned the mother of curates.</p> + +<p>"Yes, please."</p> + +<p>"One lump, or two?"</p> + +<p>"Two, please."</p> + +<p>"Speaking for the family--" Henry resumed.</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly pass this cup to your mother?" Alice suggested.</p> + +<p>Henry was obliged to take the cup. Excited by the fever of eloquence, he +unfortunately upset it before it had reached his mother's hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Henry!" murmured the lady, mournfully aghast. "You always were so +clumsy! And a clean cloth, too!"</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it, please," said Alice, and then to <i>her</i> Henry: +"My dear, just run into the kitchen, and bring me something to wipe this +up. Hanging behind the door--you'll see."</p> + +<p>Priam sprang forward with astonishing celerity. And the occasion +brooking no delay, the guardian of the portal could not but let him pass. +In another moment the front door banged. Priam did not return. And Alice +staunched the flow of tea with a clean, stiff serviette taken from the +sideboard drawer.</p> + + +<h2><i>A Departure</i></h2> + + +<p>The family of the late Henry Leek, each with a cup in hand, experienced +a certain difficulty in maintaining the interview at the pitch set by +Matthew and Henry. Mrs. Leek, their mother, frankly gave way to soft tears, +while eating bread-and-butter, jam and zebra-like toast. John took +everything that Alice offered to him in gloomy and awkward silence.</p> + +<p>"Does he mean to come back?" Matthew demanded at length. He had risen +from the foot-stool.</p> + +<p>"Who?" asked Alice.</p> + +<p>Matthew paused, and then said, savagely and deliberately: "Father."</p> + +<p>Alice smiled. "I'm afraid not. I'm afraid he's gone out. You see, he's a +rather peculiar man. It's not the slightest use me trying to drive him. He +can only be led. He has his good points--I can speak candidly as he isn't +here, and I <i>will</i>--he has his good points. When Mrs. Leek, as I +suppose she calls herself, spoke about his cruelty to her--well, I +understood that. Far be it from me to say a word against him; he's often +very good to me, but--another cup, Mr. John?"</p> + +<p>John advanced to the table without a word, holding his cup.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say, ma'am," said Mrs. Leek "that he--?"</p> + +<p>Alice nodded grievously.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Leek burst into tears. "When Johnnie was barely five weeks old," +she said, "he would twist my arm. And he kept me without money. And once he +locked me up in the cellar. And one morning when I was ironing he snatched +the hot iron out of my hand and--"</p> + +<p>"Don't! Don't!" Alice soothed her. "I know. I know all you can tell me. +I know because I've been through--"</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say he threatened <i>you</i> with the flat-iron?"</p> + +<p>"If threatening was only all!" said Alice, like a martyr.</p> + +<p>"Then he's not changed, in all these years!" wept the mother of +curates.</p> + +<p>"If he has, it's for the worse," said Alice. "How was I to tell?" she +faced the curates. "How could I know? And yet nobody, nobody, could be +nicer than he is at times!"</p> + +<p>"That's true, that's true," responded the authentic Mrs. Henry Leek. "He +was always so changeable. So queer."</p> + +<p>"Queer!" Alice took up the word. "That's it Queer! I don't think he's +<i>quite</i> right in his head, not quite right. He has the very strangest +fancies. I never take any notice of them, but they're there. I seldom get +up in the morning without thinking, 'Well, perhaps to-day he'll have to be +taken off.'"</p> + +<p>"Taken off?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to Hanwell, or wherever it is. And you must remember," she said +gazing firmly at the curates, "you've got his blood in your veins. Don't +forget that. I suppose you want to make him go back to you, Mrs. Leek, as +he certainly ought."</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," murmured Mrs. Leek feebly.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you can persuade him to go," said Alice, "if you can make him +see his duty, you're welcome. But I'm sorry for you. I think I ought to +tell you that this is my house, and my furniture. He's got nothing at all. +I expect he never could save. Many's the blow he's laid on me in anger, but +all the same I pity him. I pity him. And I wouldn't like to leave him in +the lurch. Perhaps these three strong young men'll be able to do something +with him. But I'm not sure. He's very strong. And he has a way of leaping +out so sudden like."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Leek shook her head as memories of the past rose up in her +mind.</p> + +<p>"The fact is," said Matthew sternly, "he ought to be prosecuted for +bigamy. That's what ought to be done."</p> + +<p>"Most decidedly," Henry concurred.</p> + +<p>"You're quite right! You're quite right!" said Alice. "That's only +justice. Of course he'd deny that he was the same Henry Leek. He'd deny it +like anything. But in the end I dare say you'd be able to prove it. The +worst of these law cases is they're so expensive. It means private +detectives and all sorts of things, I believe. Of course there'd be the +scandal. But don't mind me! I'm innocent. Everybody knows me in Putney, and +has done this twenty years. I don't know how it would suit you, Mr. Henry +and Mr. Matthew, as clergymen, to have your own father in prison. That's as +may be. But justice is justice, and there's too many men going about +deceiving simple, trusting women. I've often heard such tales. Now I know +they're all true. It's a mercy my own poor mother hasn't lived to see where +I am to-day. As for my father, old as he was, if he'd been alive, there'd +have been horsewhipping that I do know."</p> + +<p>After some rather pointless and disjointed remarks from the curates, a +sound came from the corner near the door. It was John's cough.</p> + +<p>"Better clear out of this!" John ejaculated. Such was his first and last +oral contribution to the scene.</p> + + +<h2><i>In the Bath</i></h2> + + +<p>Priam Farll was wandering about the uncharted groves of Wimbledon +Common, and uttering soliloquies in language that lacked delicacy. He had +rushed forth, in his haste, without an overcoat, and the weather was +blusterously inclement. But he did not feel the cold; he only felt the keen +wind of circumstance.</p> + +<p>Soon after the purchase of his picture by the lunatic landlord of a +fully licensed house, he had discovered that the frame-maker in High Street +knew a man who would not be indisposed to buy such pictures as he could +paint, and transactions between him and the frame-maker had developed into +a regular trade. The usual price paid for canvases was ten pounds, in cash. +By this means he had earned about two hundred a year. No questions were put +on either side. The paintings were delivered at intervals, and the money +received; and Priam knew no more. For many weeks he had lived in daily +expectation of an uproar, a scandal in the art-world, visits of police, and +other inconveniences, for it was difficult to believe that the pictures +would never come beneath the eye of a first-class expert. But nothing had +occurred, and he had gradually subsided into a sense of security. He was +happy; happy in the untrammelled exercise of his gift, happy in having all +the money that his needs and Alice's demanded; happier than he had been in +the errant days of his glory and his wealth. Alice had been amazed at his +power of earning; and also, she had seemed little by little to lose her +suspicions as to his perfect sanity and truthfulness. In a word, the dog of +fate had slept; and he had taken particular care to let it lie. He was in +that species of sheltered groove which is absolutely essential to the bliss +of a shy and nervous artist, however great he may be.</p> + +<p>And now this disastrous irruption, this resurrection of the early sins +of the real Leek! He was hurt; he was startled; he was furious. But he was +not surprised. The wonder was that the early sins of Henry Leek had not +troubled him long ago. What could he do? He could do nothing. That was the +tragedy: he could do nothing. He could but rely upon Alice. Alice was +amazing. The more he thought of it, the more masterly her handling of these +preposterous curates seemed to him. And was he to be robbed of this +incomparable woman by ridiculous proceedings connected with a charge of +bigamy? He knew that bigamy meant prison, in England. The injustice was +monstrous. He saw those curates, and their mute brother, and the aggrieved +mother of the three dogging him either to prison or to his deathbed! And +how could he explain to Alice? Impossible to explain to Alice!... Still, it +was conceivable that Alice would not desire explanation. Alice somehow +never did desire an explanation. She always said, "I can quite understand," +and set about preparing a meal. She was the comfortablest cushion of a +creature that the evolution of the universe had ever produced.</p> + +<p>Then the gusty breeze dropped and it began to rain. He ignored the rain. +But December rain has a strange, horrid quality of chilly persistence. It +is capable of conquering the most obstinate and serious mental +preoccupation, and it conquered Priam's. It forced him to admit that his +tortured soul had a fleshly garment and that the fleshly garment was soaked +to the marrow. And his soul gradually yielded before the attack of the +rain, and he went home.</p> + +<p>He put his latchkey into the door with minute precautions against noise, +and crept into his house like a thief, and very gently shut the door. Then, +in the hall, he intently listened. Not a sound! That is to say, not a sound +except the drippings of his hat on the linoleum. The sitting-room door was +ajar. He timidly pushed it, and entered. Alice was darning stockings.</p> + +<p>"Henry!" she exclaimed. "Why, you're wet through!" She rose.</p> + +<p>"Have they cleared off?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"And you've been out without an overcoat! Henry, how could you? Well, I +must get you into bed at once--instantly, or I shall have you down with +pneumonia or something to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"Have they cleared off?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," she said.</p> + +<p>"When are they coming back?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't think they'll come back," she replied. "I think they've had +enough. I think I've made them see that it's best to leave well alone. Did +you ever see such toast as that curate made?"</p> + +<p>"Alice, I assure you," he said, later--he was in a boiling bath--"I +assure you it's all a mistake, I've never seen the woman before."</p> + +<p>"Of course you haven't," she said calmingly. "Of course you haven't. +Besides, even if you had, it serves her right. Every one could see she's a +nagging woman. And they seemed quite prosperous. They're hysterical--that's +what's the matter with them, all of them--except the eldest, the one that +never spoke. I rather liked him."</p> + +<p>"But I <i>haven't!</i>" he reiterated, splashing his positive statement +into the water.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I know you haven't."</p> + +<p>But he guessed that she was humouring him. He guessed that she was +determined to keep him at all costs. And he had a disconcerting glimpse of +the depths of utter unscrupulousness that sometimes disclose themselves in +the mind of a good and loving woman.</p> + +<p>"Only I hope there won't be any more of them!" she added dryly.</p> + +<p>Ah! That was the point! He conceived the possibility of the rascal Leek +having committed scores and scores of sins, all of which might come up +against him. His affrighted vision saw whole regions populated by +disconsolate widows of Henry Leek and their offspring, ecclesiastical and +otherwise. He knew what Leek had been. Westminster Abbey was a strange goal +for Leek to have achieved.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>A Glossy Male</i></h2> + + +<p>The machine was one of those electric contrivances that do their work +noiselessly and efficiently, like a garrotter or the guillotine. No odour, +no teeth-disturbing grind of rack-and-pinion, no trumpeting, with that +machine! It arrived before the gate with such absence of sound that Alice, +though she was dusting in the front-room, did not hear it. She heard +nothing till the bell discreetly tinkled. Justifiably assuming that the +tinkler was the butcher's boy, she went to the door with her apron on, and +even with the duster in her hand. A handsome, smooth man stood on the step, +and the electric carriage made a background for him. He was a dark man, +with curly black hair, and a moustache to match, and black eyes. His silk +hat, of an incredible smooth newness, glittered over his glittering hair +and eyes. His overcoat was lined with astrakan, and this important fact was +casually betrayed at the lapels and at the sleeves. He wore a black silk +necktie, with a small pearl pin in the mathematical centre of the perfect +rhomboid of the upper part of a sailor's knot. His gloves were of slate +colour. The chief characteristic of his faintly striped trousers was the +crease, which seemed more than mortal. His boots were of +<i>glacé</i> kid and as smooth as his cheeks. The cheeks had a fresh +boyish colour, and between them, over admirable snowy teeth, projected the +hooked key to this temperament. It <i>is</i> possible that Alice, from +sheer thoughtlessness, shared the vulgar prejudice against Jews; but +certainly she did not now feel it. The man's personal charm, his exceeding +niceness, had always conquered that prejudice, whenever encountered. +Moreover, he was only about thirty-five in years, and no such costly and +beautiful male had ever yet stood on Alice's doorstep.</p> + +<p>She at once, in her mind, contrasted him with the curates of the +previous week, to the disadvantage of the Established Church. She did not +know that this man was more dangerous than a thousand curates.</p> + +<p>"Is this Mr. Leek's?" he inquired smilingly, and raised his hat.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Alice with a responsive smile.</p> + +<p>"Is he in?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Alice, "he's busy at his work. You see in this weather he +can't go out much--not to work--and so he--"</p> + +<p>"Could I see him in his studio?" asked the glossy man, with the air of +saying, "Can you grant me this supreme favour?"</p> + +<p>It was the first time that Alice had heard the attic called a studio. +She paused.</p> + +<p>"It's about pictures," explained the visitor.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Alice. "Will you come in?"</p> + +<p>"I've run down specially to see Mr. Leek," said the visitor with +emphasis.</p> + +<p>Alice's opinion as to the seriousness of her husband's gift for painting +had of course changed in two years. A man who can make two or three hundred +a year by sticking colours anyhow, at any hazard, on canvases--by producing +alleged pictures that in Alice's secret view bore only a comic resemblance +to anything at all--that man had to be taken seriously in his attic as an +artisan. It is true that Alice thought the payment he received miraculously +high for the quality of work done; but, with this agreeable Jew in the +hall, and the <i>coupé</i> at the kerb, she suddenly perceived the +probability of even greater miracles in the matter of price. She saw the +average price of ten pounds rising to fifteen, or even twenty, +pounds--provided her husband was given no opportunity to ruin the affair by +his absurd, retiring shyness.</p> + +<p>"Will you come this way?" she suggested briskly.</p> + +<p>And all that elegance followed her up to the attic door: which door she +threw open, remarking simply--</p> + +<p>"Henry, here is a gentleman come to see you about pictures."</p> + + +<h2><i>A Connoisseur</i></h2> + + +<p>Priam recovered more quickly than might have been expected. His first +thought was naturally that women are uncalculated, if not incalculable, +creatures, and that the best of them will do impossible things--things +inconceivable till actually done! Fancy her introducing a stranger, without +a word of warning, direct into his attic! However, when he rose he saw the +visitor's nose (whose nostrils were delicately expanding and contracting in +the fumes of the oil-stove), and he was at once reassured. He knew that he +would have to face neither rudeness, nor bluntness, nor lack of +imagination, nor lack of quick sympathy. Besides, the visitor, with +practical assurance, set the tone of the interview instantly.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, <i>maître</i>," he began, right off. "I must apologize +for breaking in upon you. But I've come to see if you have any work to +sell. My name is Oxford, and I'm acting for a collector."</p> + +<p>He said this with a very agreeable mingling of sincerity, deference, and +mercantile directness, also with a bright, admiring smile. He showed no +astonishment at the interior of the attic.</p> + +<p><i>Maître</i>!</p> + +<p>Well, of course, it would be idle to pretend that the greatest artists +do not enjoy being addressed as <i>maître</i>. 'Master' is the same word, +but entirely different. It was a long time since Priam Farll had been +called <i>maître</i>. Indeed, owing to his retiring habits, he had very +seldom been called <i>maître</i> at all. A just-finished picture stood on +an easel near the window; it represented one of the most wonderful scenes +in London: Putney High Street at night; two omnibus horses stepped strongly +and willingly out of a dark side street, and under the cold glare of the +main road they somehow took on the quality of equestrian sculpture. The +altercation of lights was in the highest degree complex. Priam understood +immediately, from the man's calm glance at the picture, and the position +which he instinctively took up to see it, that he was accustomed to looking +at pictures. The visitor did not start back, nor rush forward, nor dissolve +into hysterics, nor behave as though confronted by the ghost of a murdered +victim. He just gazed at the picture, keeping his nerve and holding his +tongue. And yet it was not an easy picture to look at. It was a picture of +an advanced experimentalism, and would have appealed to nothing but the +sense of humour in a person not a connoisseur.</p> + +<p>"Sell!" exclaimed Priam. Like all shy men he could hide his shyness in +an exaggerated familiarity. "What price this?" And he pointed to the +picture.</p> + +<p>There were no other preliminaries.</p> + +<p>"It is excessively distinguished," murmured Mr. Oxford, in the accents +of expert appreciation. "Excessively distinguished. May I ask how +much?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm asking you," said Priam, fiddling with a paint rag.</p> + +<p>"Hum!" observed Mr. Oxford, and gazed in silence. Then: "Two hundred and +fifty?"</p> + +<p>Priam had virtually promised to deliver that picture to the +picture-framer on the next day, and he had not expected to receive a penny +more than twelve pounds for it. But artists are strange organisms.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. Although two hundred and fifty pounds was as much as +he had earned in the previous twelve months, he shook his grey head.</p> + +<p>"No?" said Mr. Oxford kindly and respectfully, putting his hands behind +his back. "By the way," he turned with eagerness to Priam, "I presume you +have seen the portrait of Ariosto by Titian that they've bought for the +National Gallery? What is your opinion of it, <i>maître</i>?" He stood +expectant, glowing with interest.</p> + +<p>"Except that it isn't Ariosto, and it certainly isn't by Titian, it's a +pretty high-class sort of thing," said Priam.</p> + +<p>Mr. Oxford smiled with appreciative content, nodding his head. "I hoped +you would say so," he remarked. And swiftly he passed on to Segantini, then +to J.W. Morrice, and then to Bonnard, demanding the <i>maître's</i> views. +In a few moments they were really discussing pictures. And it was years +since Priam had listened to the voice of informed common sense on the +subject of painting. It was years since he had heard anything but exceeding +puerility concerning pictures. He had, in fact, accustomed himself not to +listen; he had excavated a passage direct from one ear to the other for +such remarks. And now he drank up the conversation of Mr. Oxford, and +perceived that he had long been thirsty. And he spoke his mind. He grew +warmer, more enthusiastic, more impassioned. And Mr. Oxford listened with +ecstasy. Mr. Oxford had apparently a natural discretion. He simply accepted +Priam, as he stood, for a great painter. No reference to the enigma why a +great painter should be painting in an attic in Werter Road, Putney! No +inconvenient queries about the great painter's previous history and +productions. Just the frank, full acceptance of his genius! It was odd, but +it was comfortable.</p> + +<p>"So you won't take two hundred and fifty?" asked Mr. Oxford, hopping +back to business.</p> + +<p>"No," said Priam sturdily. "The truth is," he added, "I should rather +like to keep that picture for myself."</p> + +<p>"Will you take five hundred, <i>maître</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose I will," and Priam sighed. A genuine sigh! For he would +really have liked to keep the picture. He knew he had never painted a +better.</p> + +<p>"And may I carry it away with me?" asked Mr. Oxford.</p> + +<p>"I expect so," said Priam.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I might venture to ask you to come back to town with me?" +Mr. Oxford went on, in gentle deference. "I have one or two pictures I +should very much like you to see, and I fancy they might give you pleasure. +And we could talk over future business. If possibly you could spare an hour +or so. If I might request----"</p> + +<p>A desire rose in Priam's breast and fought against his timidity. The +tone in which Mr. Oxford had said "I fancy they might give you pleasure" +appeared to indicate something very much out of the common. And Priam could +scarcely recollect when last his eyes had rested on a picture that was at +once unfamiliar and great.</p> + + +<h2><i>Parfitts' Galleries</i></h2> + + +<p>I have already indicated that the machine was somewhat out of the +ordinary. It was, as a fact, exceedingly out of the ordinary. It was much +larger than electric carriages usually are. It had what the writers of +'motoring notes' in papers written by the wealthy for the wealthy love to +call a 'limousine body.' And outside and in, it was miraculously new and +spotless. On the ivory handles of its doors, on its soft yellow leather +upholstery, on its cedar woodwork, on its patent blind apparatus, on its +silver fittings, on its lamps, on its footstools, on its silken +arm-slings--not the minutest trace of usage! Mr. Oxford's car seemed to +show that Mr. Oxford never used a car twice, purchasing a new car every +morning, like stockbrokers their silk hats, or the Duke of Selsea his +trousers. There was a table in the 'body' for writing, and pockets up and +down devised to hold documents, also two arm-chairs, and a suspended +contrivance which showed the hour, the temperature, and the fluctuations of +the barometer; there was also a speaking-tube. One felt that if the machine +had been connected by wireless telegraphy with the Stock Exchange, the +leading studios and the Houses of Parliament, and if a little restaurant +had been constructed in the rear, Mr. Oxford might never have been under +the necessity of leaving the car; that he might have passed all his days in +it from morn to latest eve.</p> + +<p>The perfection of the machine and of Mr. Oxford's attire and complexion +caused Priam to look rather shabby. Indeed, he was rather shabby. +Shabbiness had slightly overtaken him in Putney. Once he had been a dandy; +but that was in the lamented Leek's time. And as the car glided, without +smell and without noise, through the encumbered avenues of London towards +the centre, now shooting forward like a star, now stopping with gentle +suddenness, now swerving in a swift curve round a vehicle earthy and +leaden-wheeled, Priam grew more and more uncomfortable. He had sunk into a +groove at Putney. He never left Putney, save occasionally to refresh +himself at the National Gallery, and thither he invariably went by train +and tube, because the tube always filled him with wonder and romance, and +always threw him up out of the earth at the corner of Trafalgar Square with +such a strange exhilaration in his soul. So that he had not seen the main +avenues of London for a long time. He had been forgetting riches and +luxury, and the oriental cigarette-shops whose proprietors' names end in +'opoulos,' and the haughtiness of the ruling classes, and the still sterner +haughtiness of their footmen. He had now abandoned Alice in Putney. And a +mysterious demon seized him and gripped him, and sought to pull him back in +the direction of the simplicity of Putney, and struggled with him fiercely, +and made him writhe and shrink before the brilliant phenomena of London's +centre, and indeed almost pitched him out of the car and set him running as +hard as legs would carry to Putney. It was the demon which we call habit. +He would have given a picture to be in Putney, instead of swimming past +Hyde Park Corner to the accompaniment of Mr. Oxford's amiable and +deferential and tactful conversation.</p> + +<p>However, his other demon, shyness, kept him from imperiously stopping +the car.</p> + +<p>The car stopped itself in Bond Street, in front of a building with a +wide archway, and the symbol of empire floating largely over its roof. +Placards said that admission through the archway was a shilling; but Mr. +Oxford, bearing Priam's latest picture as though it had cost fifty thousand +instead of five hundred pounds, went straight into the place without +paying, and Priam accepted his impressive invitation to follow. Aged +military veterans whose breasts carried a row of medals saluted Mr. Oxford +as he entered, and, within the penetralia, beings in silk hats as faultless +as Mr. Oxford's raised those hats to Mr. Oxford, who did not raise his in +reply. Merely nodded, Napoleonically! His demeanour had greatly changed. +You saw here the man of unbending will, accustomed to use men as pawns in +the chess of a complicated career. Presently they reached a private office +where Mr. Oxford, with the assistance of a page, removed his gloves, furs, +and hat, and sent sharply for a man who at once brought a frame which +fitted Priam's picture.</p> + +<p>"Do have a cigar," Mr. Oxford urged Priam, with a quick return to his +earlier manner, offering a box in which each cigar was separately encased +in gold-leaf. The cigar was such as costs a crown in a restaurant, +half-a-crown in a shop, and twopence in Amsterdam. It was a princely cigar, +with the odour of paradise and an ash as white as snow. But Priam could not +appreciate it. No! He had seen on a beaten copper plate under the archway +these words: 'Parfitts' Galleries.' He was in the celebrated galleries of +his former dealers, whom by the way he had never seen. And he was afraid. +He was mortally apprehensive, and had a sickly sensation in the +stomach.</p> + +<p>After they had scrupulously inspected the picture, through the clouds of +incense, Mr. Oxford wrote out a cheque for five hundred pounds, and, cigar +in mouth, handed it to Priam, who tried to take it with a casual air and +did not succeed. It was signed 'Parfitts'.'</p> + +<p>"I dare say you have heard that I'm now the sole proprietor of this +place," said Mr. Oxford through his cigar.</p> + +<p>"Really!" said Priam, feeling just as nervous as an inexperienced +youth.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Oxford led Priam over thick carpets to a saloon where electric +light was thrown by means of reflectors on to a small but incomparable band +of pictures. Mr. Oxford had not exaggerated. They did give pleasure to +Priam. They were not the pictures one sees every day, nor once a year. +There was the finest Delacroix of its size that Priam had ever met with; +also a Vermeer that made it unnecessary to visit the Ryks Museum. And on +the more distant wall, to which Mr. Oxford came last, in a place of marked +honour, was an evening landscape of Volterra, a hill-town in Italy. The +bolts of Priam's very soul started when he caught sight of that picture. On +the lower edge of the rich frame were two words in black lettering: 'Priam +Farll.' How well he remembered painting it! And how masterfully beautiful +it was!</p> + +<p>"Now that," said Mr. Oxford, "is in my humble opinion one of the finest +Farlls in existence. What do you think, Mr. Leek?"</p> + +<p>Priam paused. "I agree with you," said he.</p> + +<p>"Farll," said Mr. Oxford, "is about the only modern painter that can +stand the company that that picture has in this room, eh?"</p> + +<p>Priam blushed. "Yes," he said.</p> + +<p>There is a considerable difference, in various matters, between Putney +and Volterra; but the picture of Volterra and the picture of Putney High +Street were obviously, strikingly, incontestably, by the same hand; one +could not but perceive the same brush-work, the same masses, the same +manner of seeing and of grasping, in a word the same dazzling and austere +translation of nature. The resemblance jumped at one and shook one by the +shoulders. It could not have escaped even an auctioneer. Yet Mr. Oxford did +not refer to it. He seemed quite blind to it. All he said was, as they left +the room, and Priam finished his rather monosyllabic praise--</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's the little collection I've just got together, and I am very +proud to have shown it to you. Now I want you to come and lunch with me at +my club. Please do. I should be desolated if you refused."</p> + +<p>Priam did not care a halfpenny about the desolation of Mr. Oxford; and +he most sincerely objected to lunch at Mr. Oxford's club. But he said "Yes" +because it was the easiest thing for his shyness to do, Mr. Oxford being a +determined man. Priam was afraid to go. He was disturbed, alarmed, +affrighted, by the mystery of Mr. Oxford's silence.</p> + +<p>They arrived at the club in the car.</p> + + +<h2><i>The Club</i></h2> + + +<p>Priam had never been in a club before. The statement may astonish, may +even meet with incredulity, but it is true. He had left the land of clubs +early in life. As for the English clubs in European towns, he was familiar +with their exteriors, and with the amiable babble of their supporters at +<i>tables d'hôte,</i> and his desire for further knowledge had not +been so hot as to inconvenience him. Hence he knew nothing of clubs.</p> + +<p>Mr. Oxford's club alarmed and intimidated him; it was so big and so +black. Externally it resembled a town-hall of some great industrial town. +As you stood on the pavement at the bottom of the flight of giant steps +that led to the first pair of swinging doors, your head was certainly lower +than the feet of a being who examined you sternly from the other side of +the glass. Your head was also far below the sills of the mighty windows of +the ground-floor. There were two storeys above the ground-floor, and above +them a projecting eave of carven stone that threatened the uplifted eye +like a menace. The tenth part of a slate, the merest chip of a corner, +falling from the lofty summit of that pile, would have slain elephants. And +all the façade was black, black with ages of carbonic deposit. The +notion that the building was a town-hall that had got itself misplaced and +perverted gradually left you as you gazed. You perceived its falseness. You +perceived that Mr. Oxford's club was a monument, a relic of the days when +there were giants on earth, that it had come down unimpaired to a race of +pigmies, who were making the best of it. The sole descendant of the giants +was the scout behind the door. As Mr. Oxford and Priam climbed towards it, +this unique giant, with a giant's force, pulled open the gigantic door, and +Mr. Oxford and Priam walked imperceptibly in, and the door swung to with a +large displacement of air. Priam found himself in an immense interior, +under a distant carved ceiling, far, far upwards, like heaven. He watched +Mr. Oxford write his name in a gigantic folio, under a gigantic clock. This +accomplished, Mr. Oxford led him past enormous vistas to right and left, +into a very long chamber, both of whose long walls were studded with +thousands upon thousands of massive hooks--and here and there upon a hook a +silk hat or an overcoat. Mr. Oxford chose a couple of hooks in the expanse, +and when they had divested themselves sufficiently he led Priam forwards +into another great chamber evidently meant to recall the baths of Carcalla. +In gigantic basins chiselled out of solid granite, Priam scrubbed his +finger-nails with a nail-brush larger than he had previously encountered, +even in nightmares, and an attendant brushed his coat with a utensil that +resembled a weapon of offence lately the property of Anak.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go straight to the dining-room now," asked Mr. Oxford, "or +will you have a gin and angostura first?"</p> + +<p>Priam declined the gin and angostura, and they went up an overwhelming +staircase of sombre marble, and through other apartments to the +dining-room, which would have made an excellent riding-school. Here one had +six of the gigantic windows in a row, each with curtains that fell in huge +folds from the unseen into the seen. The ceiling probably existed. On every +wall were gigantic paintings in thick ornate frames, and between the +windows stood heroic busts of marble set upon columns of basalt. The chairs +would have been immovable had they not run on castors of weight-resisting +rock, yet against the tables they had the air of negligible toys. At one +end of the room was a sideboard that would not have groaned under an ox +whole, and at the other a fire, over which an ox might have been roasted in +its entirety, leaped under a mantelpiece upon which Goliath could not have +put his elbows.</p> + +<p>All was silent and grave; the floors were everywhere covered with heavy +carpets which hushed all echoes. There was not the faintest sound. Sound, +indeed, seemed to be deprecated. Priam had already passed the wide entrance +to one illimitable room whose walls were clothed with warnings in gigantic +letters: 'Silence.' And he had noticed that all chairs and couches were +thickly padded and upholstered in soft leather, and that it was impossible +to produce in them the slightest creak. At a casual glance the place seemed +unoccupied, but on more careful inspection you saw midgets creeping about, +or seated in easy-chairs that had obviously been made to hold two of them; +these midgets were the members of the club, dwarfed into dolls by its +tremendous dimensions. A strange and sinister race! They looked as though +in the final stages of decay, and wherever their heads might rest was +stretched a white cloth, so that their heads might not touch the spots +sanctified by the heads of the mighty departed. They rarely spoke to one +another, but exchanged regards of mutual distrust and scorn; and if by +chance they did converse it was in tones of weary, brusque disillusion. +They could at best descry each other but indistinctly in the universal +pervading gloom--a gloom upon which electric lamps, shining dimly yellow in +their vast lustres, produced almost no impression. The whole establishment +was buried in the past, dreaming of its Titantic yore, when there were +doubtless giants who could fill those fauteuils and stick their feet on +those mantelpieces.</p> + +<p>It was in such an environment that Mr. Oxford gave Priam to eat and to +drink off little ordinary plates and out of tiny tumblers. No hint of the +club's immemorial history in that excessively modern and excellent +repast--save in the Stilton cheese, which seemed to have descended from the +fine fruity days of some Homeric age, a cheese that Ulysses might have +inaugurated. I need hardly say that the total effect on Priam's temperament +was disastrous. (Yet how could the diplomatic Mr. Oxford have guessed that +Priam had never been in a club before?) It induced in him a speechless +anguish, and he would have paid a sum as gigantic as the club--he would +have paid the very cheque in his pocket--never to have met Mr. Oxford. He +was a far too sensitive man for a club, and his moods were incalculable. +Assuredly Mr. Oxford had miscalculated the result of his club on Priam's +humour; he soon saw his error.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we take coffee in the smoking-room?" he said.</p> + +<p>The populous smoking-room was the one part of the club where talking +with a natural loudness was not a crime. Mr. Oxford found a corner fairly +free from midgets, and they established themselves in it, and liqueurs and +cigars accompanied the coffee. You could actually see midgets laughing +outright in the mist of smoke; the chatter narrowly escaped being a din; +and at intervals a diminutive boy entered and bawled the name of a midget +at the top of his voice, Priam was suddenly electrified, and Mr. Oxford, +very alert, noticed the electrification.</p> + +<p>Mr. Oxford drank his coffee somewhat quickly, and then he leaned forward +a little over the table, and put his moon-like face nearer to Priam's, and +arranged his legs in a truly comfortable position beneath the table, and +expelled a large quantity of smoke from his cigar. It was clearly the +preliminary to a scene of confidence, the approach to the crisis to which +he had for several hours been leading up.</p> + +<p>Priam's heart trembled.</p> + +<p>"What is your opinion, <i>maître</i>," he asked, "of the ultimate value +of Farll's pictures?"</p> + +<p>Priam was in misery. Mr. Oxford's manner was deferential, amiable and +expectant. But Priam did not know what to say. He only knew what he would +do if he could have found the courage to do it: run away, recklessly, +unceremoniously, out of that club.</p> + +<p>"I--I don't know," said Priam, visibly whitening.</p> + +<p>"Because I've bought a goodish few Farlls in my time," Mr. Oxford +continued, "and I must say I've sold them well. I've only got that one left +that I showed you this morning, and I've been wondering whether I should +stick to it and wait for a possible further rise, or sell it at once."</p> + +<p>"How much can you sell it for?" Priam mumbled.</p> + +<p>"I don't mind telling you," said Mr. Oxford, "that I fancy I could sell +it for a couple of thousand. It's rather small, but it's one of the finest +in existence."</p> + +<p>"I should sell it," said Priam, scarcely audible.</p> + +<p>"You would? Well, perhaps you're right. It's a question, in my mind, +whether some other painter may not turn up one of these days who would do +that sort of thing even better than Farll did it. I could imagine the +possibility of a really clever man coming along and imitating Farll so well +that only people like yourself, <i>maître</i>, and perhaps me, could tell +the difference. It's just the kind of work that might be brilliantly +imitated, if the imitator was clever enough, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>"But what do you mean?" asked Priam, perspiring in his back.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Oxford vaguely, "one never knows. The style might be +imitated, and the market flooded with canvases practically as good as +Farll's. Nobody might find it out for quite a long time, and then there +might be confusion in the public mind, followed by a sharp fall in prices. +And the beauty of it is that the public wouldn't really be any the worse. +Because an imitation that no one can distinguish from the original is +naturally as good as the original. You take me? There's certainly a +tremendous chance for a man who could seize it, and that's why I'm inclined +to accept your advice and sell my one remaining Farll."</p> + +<p>He smiled more and more confidentially. His gaze was charged with a +secret meaning. He seemed to be suggesting unspeakable matters to Priam. +That bright face wore an expression which such faces wear on such +occasions--an expression cheerfully insinuating that after all there is no +right and no wrong--or at least that many things which the ordinary slave +of convention would consider to be wrong are really right. So Priam read +the expression.</p> + +<p>"The dirty rascal wants me to manufacture imitations of myself for him!" +Priam thought, full of sudden, hidden anger. "He's known all along that +there's no difference between what I sold him and the picture he's already +had. He wants to suggest that we should come to terms. He's simply been +playing a game with me up to now." And he said aloud, "I don't know that I +<i>advise</i> you to do anything. I'm not a dealer, Mr. Oxford."</p> + +<p>He said it in a hostile tone that ought to have silenced Mr. Oxford for +ever, but it did not. Mr. Oxford curved away, like a skater into a new +figure, and began to expatiate minutely upon the merits of the Volterra +picture. He analyzed it in so much detail, and lauded it with as much +justice, as though the picture was there before them. Priam was astonished +at the man's exactitude. "Scoundrel! He knows a thing or two!" reflected +Priam grimly.</p> + +<p>"You don't think I overpraise it, do you, <i>cher maître?</i> Mr. Oxford +finished, still smiling.</p> + +<p>"A little," said Priam.</p> + +<p>If only Priam could have run away! But he couldn't! Mr. Oxford had him +well in a corner. No chance of freedom! Besides, he was over fifty and +stout.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Now I was expecting you to say that! Do you mind telling me at what +period you painted it?" Mr. Oxford inquired, very blandly, though his hands +were clasped in a violent tension that forced the blood from the region of +the knuckle-joints.</p> + +<p>This was the crisis which Mr. Oxford had been leading up to! All the +time Mr. Oxford's teethy smile had concealed a knowledge of Priam's +identity!</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>The Secret</i></h2> + + +<p>"What do you mean?" asked Priam Farll. But he put the question weakly, +and he might just as well have said, "I know what you mean, and I would pay +a million pounds or so in order to sink through the floor." A few minutes +ago he would only have paid five hundred pounds or so in order to run +simply away. Now he wanted Maskelyne miracles to happen to him. The +universe seemed to be caving in about the ears of Priam Farll.</p> + +<p>Mr. Oxford was still smiling; smiling, however, as a man holds his +breath for a wager. You felt that he could not keep it up much longer.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> Priam Farll, aren't you?" said Mr. Oxford in a very low +voice.</p> + +<p>"What makes you think I'm Priam Farll?"</p> + +<p>"I think you are Priam Farll because you painted that picture I bought +from you this morning, and I am sure that no one but Priam Farll could have +painted it."</p> + +<p>"Then you've been playing a game with me all morning!"</p> + +<p>"Please don't put it like that, <i>cher maître</i>," Mr. Oxford +whisperingly pleaded. "I only wished to feel my ground. I know that Priam +Farll is supposed to have been buried in Westminster Abbey. But for me the +existence of that picture of Putney High Street, obviously just painted, is +an absolute proof that he is not buried in Westminster Abbey, and that he +still lives. It is an amazing thing that there should have been a mistake +at the funeral, an utterly amazing thing, which involves all sorts of +consequences! But that's not my business. Of course there must be clear +reasons for what occurred. I am not interested in them--I mean not +professionally. I merely argue, when I see a certain picture, with the +paint still wet on it: 'That picture was painted by a certain painter. I am +an expert, and I stake my reputation on it' It's no use telling me that the +painter in question died several years ago and was buried with national +honours in Westminster Abbey. I say it couldn't have been so. I'm a +connoisseur. And if the facts of his death and burial don't agree with the +result of my connoisseurship, I say they aren't facts. I say there's been +a--a misunderstanding about--er--corpses. Now, <i>cher maître</i>, what do +you think of my position?" Mr. Oxford drummed lightly on the table.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Priam. Which was another lie.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> Priam Farll, aren't you?" Mr. Oxford persisted.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you will have it," said Priam savagely, "I am. And now you +know!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Oxford let his smile go. He had held it for an incredible time. He +let it go, and sighed a gentle and profound relief. He had been skating +over the thinnest ice, and had reached the bank amid terrific crackings, +and he began to appreciate the extent of the peril braved. He had been +perfectly sure of his connoisseurship. But when one says one is perfectly +sure, especially if one says it with immense emphasis, one always means +'imperfectly sure.' So it was with Mr. Oxford. And really, to argue, from +the mere existence of a picture, that a tremendous deceit had been +successfully practised upon the most formidable of nations, implies rather +more than rashness on the part of the arguer.</p> + +<p>"But I don't want it to get about," said Priam, still in a savage +whisper. "And I don't want to talk about it." He looked at the nearest +midgets resentfully, suspecting them of eavesdropping.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," said Mr. Oxford, but in a tone that lacked conviction.</p> + +<p>"It's a matter that only concerns me," said Priam.</p> + +<p>"Precisely," Mr. Oxford repeated. "At least it <i>ought</i> to concern +only you. And I can't assure you too positively that I'm the last person in +the world to want to pry; but--"</p> + +<p>"You must kindly remember," said Priam, interrupting, "that you bought +that picture this morning simply <i>as</i> a picture, on its merits. You +have no authority to attach my name to it, and I must ask you not to do +so."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," agreed Mr. Oxford. "I bought it as a masterpiece, and I'm +quite content with my bargain. I want no signature."</p> + +<p>"I haven't signed my pictures for twenty years," said Priam.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," said Mr. Oxford. "Every square inch of every one is +unmistakably signed. You could not put a brush on a canvas without signing +it. It is the privilege of only the greatest painters not to put letters on +the corners of their pictures in order to keep other painters from taking +the credit for them afterwards. For me, all your pictures are signed. But +there are some people who want more proof than connoisseurship can give, +and that's where the trouble is going to be."</p> + +<p>"Trouble?" said Priam, with an intensification of his misery.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Oxford. "I must tell you, so that you can understand the +situation." He became very solemn, showing that he had at last reached the +real point. "Some time ago a man, a little dealer, came to me and offered +me a picture that I instantly recognized as one of yours. I bought it."</p> + +<p>"How much did you pay for it?" Priam growled.</p> + +<p>After a pause Mr. Oxford said, "I don't mind giving you the figure. I +paid fifty pounds for it."</p> + +<p>"Did you!" exclaimed Priam, perceiving that some person or persons had +made four hundred per cent. on his work by the time it had arrived at a big +dealer. "Who was the fellow?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a little dealer. Nobody. Jew, of course." Mr. Oxford's way of +saying 'Jew' was ineffably ironic. Priam knew that, being a Jew, the dealer +could not be his frame-maker, who was a pure-bred Yorkshireman from +Ravensthorpe. Mr. Oxford continued, "I sold that picture and guaranteed it +to be a Priam Farll."</p> + +<p>"The devil you did!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I had sufficient confidence in my judgment."</p> + +<p>"Who bought it?"</p> + +<p>"Whitney C. Witt, of New York. He's an old man now, of course. I expect +you remember him, <i>cher maître</i>." Mr. Oxford's eyes twinkled. "I sold +it to him, and of course he accepted my guarantee. Soon afterwards I had +the offer of other pictures obviously by you, from the same dealer. And I +bought them. I kept on buying them. I dare say I've bought forty +altogether."</p> + +<p>"Did your little dealer guess whose work they were?" Priam demanded +suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Not he! If he had done, do you suppose he'd have parted with them for +fifty pounds apiece? Mind, at first I thought I was buying pictures painted +before your supposed death. I thought, like the rest of the world, that you +were--in the Abbey. Then I began to have doubts. And one day when a bit of +paint came off on my thumb, I can tell you I was startled. However, I stuck +to my opinion, and I kept on guaranteeing the pictures as Farlls."</p> + +<p>"It never occurred to you to make any inquiries?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it did," said Mr. Oxford. "I did my best to find out from the +dealer where he got the pictures from, but he wouldn't tell me. Well, I +sort of scented a mystery. Now I've got no professional use for mysteries, +and I came to the conclusion that I'd better just let this one alone. So I +did."</p> + +<p>"Well, why didn't you keep on leaving it alone?" Priam asked.</p> + +<p>"Because circumstances won't let me. I sold practically all those +pictures to Whitney C. Witt. It was all right. Anyhow I thought it was all +right. I put Parfitts' name and reputation on their being yours. And then +one day I heard from Mr. Witt that on the back of the canvas of one of the +pictures the name of the canvas-makers, and a date, had been stamped, with +a rubber stamp, and that the date was after your supposed burial, and that +his London solicitors had made inquiries from the artist's-material people +here, and these people were prepared to prove that the canvas was made +after Priam Farll's funeral. You see the fix?"</p> + +<p>Priam did.</p> + +<p>"My reputation--Parfitts'--is at stake. If those pictures aren't by you, +I'm a swindler. Parfitts' name is gone for ever, and there'll be the +greatest scandal that ever was. Witt is threatening proceedings. I offered +to take the whole lot back at the price he paid me, without any commission. +But he won't. He's an old man; a bit of a maniac I expect, and he won't. +He's angry. He thinks he's been swindled, and what he says is that he's +going to see the thing through. I've got to prove to him that the pictures +are yours. I've got to show him what grounds I had for giving my guarantee. +Well, to cut a long story short, I've found you, I'm glad to say!"</p> + +<p>He sighed again.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said Priam. "How much has Witt paid you altogether for my +pictures?"</p> + +<p>After a pause, Mr. Oxford said, "I don't mind giving you the figure. +He's paid me seventy-two thousand pounds odd." He smiled, as if to excuse +himself.</p> + +<p>When Priam Farll reflected that he had received about four hundred +pounds for those pictures--vastly less than one per cent, of what the shiny +and prosperous dealer had ultimately disposed of them for, the traditional +fury of the artist against the dealer--of the producer against the +parasitic middleman--sprang into flame in his heart. Up till then he had +never had any serious cause of complaint against his dealers. (Extremely +successful artists seldom have.) Now he saw dealers, as the ordinary +painters see them, to be the authors of all evil! Now he understood by what +methods Mr. Oxford had achieved his splendid car, clothes, club, and +minions. These things were earned, not by Mr. Oxford, but <i>for</i> Mr. +Oxford in dingy studios, even in attics, by shabby industrious painters! +Mr. Oxford was nothing but an opulent thief, a grinder of the face of +genius. Mr. Oxford was, in a word, the spawn of the devil, and Priam +silently but sincerely consigned him to his proper place.</p> + +<p>It was excessively unjust of Priam. Nobody had asked Priam to die. +Nobody had asked him to give up his identity. If he had latterly been +receiving tens instead of thousands for his pictures, the fault was his +alone. Mr. Oxford had only bought and only sold; which was his true +function. But Mr. Oxford's sin, in Priam's eyes, was the sin of having been +right.</p> + +<p>It would have needed less insight than Mr. Oxford had at his disposal to +see that Priam Farll was taking the news very badly.</p> + +<p>"For both our sakes, <i>cher maître</i>," said Mr. Oxford persuasively, +"I think it will be advisable for you to put me in a position to prove that +my guarantee to Witt was justified."</p> + +<p>"Why for both our sakes?"</p> + +<p>"Because, well, I shall be delighted to pay you, say thirty-six thousand +pounds in acknowledgment of--er--" He stopped.</p> + +<p>Probably he had instantly perceived that he was committing a disastrous +error of tact. Either he should have offered nothing, or he should have +offered the whole sum he had received less a small commission. To suggest +dividing equally with Priam was the instinctive impulse, the fatal folly, +of a born dealer. And Mr. Oxford was a born dealer.</p> + +<p>"I won't accept a penny," said Priam. "And I can't help you in any way. +I'm afraid I must go now. I'm late as it is."</p> + +<p>His cold resistless fury drove him forward, and, without the slightest +regard for the amenities of clubs, he left the table, Mr. Oxford, becoming +more and more the dealer, rose and followed him, even directed him to the +gigantic cloak-room, murmuring the while soft persuasions and pacifications +in Priam's ear.</p> + +<p>"There may be an action in the courts," said Mr. Oxford in the grand +entrance hall, "and your testimony would be indispensable to me."</p> + +<p>"I can have nothing to do with it. Good-day!"</p> + +<p>The giant at the door could scarce open the gigantic portal quickly +enough for him. He fled--fled, surrounded by nightmare visions of horrible +publicity in a law-court. Unthinkable tortures! He damned Mr. Oxford to the +nethermost places, and swore that he would not lift a finger to save Mr. +Oxford from penal servitude for life.</p> + + +<h2><i>Money-getting</i></h2> + + +<p>He stood on the kerb of the monument, talking to himself savagely. At +any rate he was safely outside the monument, with its pullulating +population of midgets creeping over its carpets and lounging insignificant +on its couches. He could not remember clearly what had occurred since the +moment of his getting up from the table; he could not remember seeing +anything or anyone on his way out; but he could remember the persuasive, +deferential voice of Mr. Oxford following him persistently as far as the +giant's door. In recollection that club was like an abode of black magic to +him; it seemed so hideously alive in its deadness, and its doings were so +absurd and mysterious. "Silence, silence!" commanded the white papers in +one vast chamber, and, in another, babel existed! And then that terrible +mute dining-room, with the high, unscalable mantelpieces that no midget +could ever reach! He kept uttering the most dreadful judgments on the club +and on Mr. Oxford, in quite audible tones, oblivious of the street. He was +aroused by a rather scared man saluting him. It was Mr. Oxford's chauffeur, +waiting patiently till his master should be ready to re-enter the wheeled +salon. The chauffeur apparently thought him either demented or inebriated, +but his sole duty was to salute, and he did nothing else.</p> + +<p>Quite forgetting that this chauffeur was a fellow-creature, Priam +immediately turned upon his heel, and hurried down the street. At the +corner of the street was a large bank, and Priam, acquiring the reckless +courage of the soldier in battle, entered the bank. He had never been in a +London bank before. At first it reminded him of the club, with the addition +of an enormous placard giving the day of the month as a mystical +number--14--and other placards displaying solitary letters of the alphabet. +Then he saw that it was a huge menagerie in which highly trained young men +of assorted sizes and years were confined in stout cages of wire and +mahogany. He stamped straight to a cage with a hole in it, and threw down +the cheque for five hundred pounds--defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Next desk, please," said a mouth over a high collar and a green tie, +behind the grating, and a disdainful hand pushed the cheque back towards +Priam.</p> + +<p>"Next desk!" repeated Priam, dashed but furious.</p> + +<p>"This is the A to M desk," said the mouth.</p> + +<p>Then Priam understood the solitary letters, and he rushed, with a new +accession of fury, to the adjoining cage, where another disdainful hand +picked up the cheque and turned it over, with an air of saying, "Fishy, +this!"</p> + +<p>And, "It isn't endorsed!" said another mouth over another high collar +and green tie. The second disdainful hand pushed the cheque back again to +Priam, as though it had been a begging circular.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if that's all!" said Priam, almost speechless from anger. "Have you +got such a thing as a pen?"</p> + +<p>He was behaving in an extremely unreasonable manner. He had no right to +visit his spleen on a perfectly innocent bank that paid twenty-five per +cent to its shareholders and a thousand a year each to its directors, and +what trifle was left over to its men in rages. But Priam was not like you +or me. He did not invariably act according to reason. He could not be angry +with one man at once, nor even with one building at once. When he was angry +he was inclusively and miscellaneously angry; and the sun, moon, and stars +did not escape.</p> + +<p>After he had endorsed the cheque the disdainful hand clawed it up once +more, and directed upon its obverse and upon its reverse a battery of +suspicions; then a pair of eyes glanced with critical distrust at so much +of Priam's person as was visible. Then the eyes moved back, the mouth +opened, in a brief word, and lo! there were four eyes and two mouths over +the cheque, and four for an instant on Priam. Priam expected some one to +call for a policeman; in spite of himself he felt guilty--or anyhow +dubious. It was the grossest insult to him to throw doubt on the cheque and +to examine him in that frigid, shamelessly disillusioned manner.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> Mr. Leek?" a mouth moved.</p> + +<p>"Yes" (very slowly).</p> + +<p>"How would you like this?"</p> + +<p>"I'll thank you to give it me in notes," answered Priam haughtily.</p> + +<p>When the disdainful hand had counted twice every corner of a pile of +notes, and had dropped the notes one by one, with a peculiar snapping sound +of paper, in front of Priam, Priam crushed them together and crammed them +without any ceremony and without gratitude to the giver, into the right +pocket of his trousers. And he stamped out of the building with curses on +his lips.</p> + +<p>Still, he felt better, he felt assuaged. To cultivate and nourish a +grievance when you have five hundred pounds in your pocket, in cash, is the +most difficult thing in the world.</p> + + +<h2><i>A Visit to the Tailors'</i></h2> + + +<p>He gradually grew calmer by dint of walking--aimless, fast walking, with +a rapt expression of the eyes that on crowded pavements cleared the way for +him more effectually than a shouting footman. And then he debouched +unexpectedly on to the Embankment. Dusk was already falling on the noble +curve of the Thames, and the mighty panorama stretched before him in a +manner mysteriously impressive which has made poets of less poetic men than +Priam Farll. Grand hotels, offices of millionaires and of governments, +grand hotels, swards and mullioned windows of the law, grand hotels, the +terrific arches of termini, cathedral domes, houses of parliament, and +grand hotels, rose darkly around him on the arc of the river, against the +dark violet murk of the sky. Huge trams swam past him like glass houses, +and hansoms shot past the trams and automobiles past the hansoms; and +phantom barges swirled down on the full ebb, threading holes in bridges as +cotton threads a needle. It was London, and the roar of London, majestic, +imperial, super-Roman. And lo! earlier than the earliest municipal light, +an unseen hand, the hand of destiny, printed a writing on the wall of vague +gloom that was beginning to hide the opposite bank. And the writing said +that Shipton's tea was the best. And then the hand wiped largely out that +message and wrote in another spot that Macdonnell's whisky was the best; +and so these two doctrines, in their intermittent pyrotechnics, continued +to give the lie to each other under the deepening night. Quite five minutes +passed before Priam perceived, between the altercating doctrines, the high +scaffold-clad summit of a building which was unfamiliar to him. It looked +serenely and immaterially beautiful in the evening twilight, and as he was +close to Waterloo Bridge, his curiosity concerning beauty took him over to +the south bank of the Thames.</p> + +<p>After losing himself in the purlieus of Waterloo Station, he at last +discovered the rear of the building. Yes, it was a beautiful thing; its +tower climbed in several coloured storeys, diminishing till it expired in a +winged figure on the sky. And below, the building was broad and massive, +with a frontage of pillars over great arched windows. Two cranes stuck +their arms out from the general mass, and the whole enterprise was guarded +in a hedge of hoardings. Through the narrow doorway in the hoarding came +the flare and the hissing of a Wells's light. Priam Farll glanced timidly +within. The interior was immense. In a sort of court of honour a group of +muscular, hairy males, silhouetted against an illuminated latticework of +scaffolding, were chipping and paring at huge blocks of stone. It was a +subject for a Rembrandt.</p> + +<p>A fat untidy man meditatively approached the doorway. He had a roll of +tracing papers in his hand, and the end of a long, thick pencil in his +mouth. He was the man who interpreted the dreams of the architect to the +dreamy British artisan. Experience of life had made him somewhat +brusque.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said to Priam; "what the devil do you want?"</p> + +<p>"What the devil do I want?" repeated Priam, who had not yet altogether +fallen away from his mood of universal defiance. "I only want to know what +the h-ll this building is."</p> + +<p>The fat man was a little startled. He took his pencil from his mouth, +and spit.</p> + +<p>"It's the new Picture Gallery, built under the will of that there Priam +Farll. I should ha' thought you'd ha' known that." Priam's lips trembled on +the verge of an exclamation. "See that?" the fat man pursued, pointing to a +small board on the hoarding. The board said, "No hands wanted."</p> + +<p>The fat man coldly scrutinized Priam's appearance, from his greenish hat +to his baggy creased boots.</p> + +<p>Priam walked away.</p> + +<p>He was dumbfounded. Then he was furious again. He perfectly saw the +humour of the situation, but it was not the kind of humour that induced +rollicking laughter. He was furious, and employed the language of fury, +when it is not overheard. Absorbed by his craft of painting, as in the old +Continental days, he had long since ceased to read the newspapers, and +though he had not forgotten his bequest to the nation, he had never thought +of it as taking architectural shape. He was not aware of his cousin +Duncan's activities for the perpetuation of the family name. The thing +staggered him. The probabilities of the strange consequences of dead +actions swept against him and overwhelmed him. Once, years ago and years +ago, in a resentful mood, he had written a few lines on a piece of paper, +and signed them in the presence of witnesses. Then nothing--nothing +whatever--for two decades! The paper slept... and now this--this tremendous +concrete result in the heart of London! It was incredible. It passed the +bounds even of lawful magic.</p> + +<p>His palace, his museum! The fruit of a captious hour!</p> + +<p>Ah! But he was furious. Like every ageing artist of genuine +accomplishment, he knew--none better--that there is no satisfaction save +the satisfaction of fatigue after honest endeavour. He knew--none +better--that wealth and glory and fine clothes are nought, and that +striving is all. He had never been happier than during the last two years. +Yet the finest souls have their reactions, their rebellions against wise +reason. And Priam's soul was in insurrection then. He wanted wealth and +glory and fine clothes once more. It seemed to him that he was out of the +world and that he must return to it. The covert insults of Mr. Oxford +rankled and stung. And the fat foreman had mistaken him for a workman +cadging for a job.</p> + +<p>He walked rapidly to the bridge and took a cab to Conduit Street, where +dwelt a firm of tailors with whose Paris branch he had had dealings in his +dandiacal past.</p> + +<p>An odd impulse perhaps, but natural.</p> + +<p>A lighted clock-tower--far to his left as the cab rolled across the +bridge--showed that a legislative providence was watching over Israel.</p> + + +<h2><i>Alice on the Situation</i></h2> + + +<p>"I bet the building alone won't cost less than seventy thousand pounds," +he said.</p> + +<p>He was back again with Alice in the intimacy of Werter Road, and +relating to her, in part, the adventures of the latter portion of the day. +He had reached home long after tea-time; she, with her natural sagacity, +had not waited tea for him. Now she had prepared a rather special tea for +the adventurer, and she was sitting opposite to him at the little table, +with nothing to do but listen and refill his cup.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said mildly, and without the least surprise at his figures, +"I don't know what he could have been thinking of--your Priam Farll! I call +it just silly. It isn't as if there wasn't enough picture-galleries +already. When what there are are so full that you can't get in--then it +will be time enough to think about fresh ones. I've been to the National +Gallery twice, and upon my word I was almost the only person there! And +it's free too! People don't <i>want</i> picture-galleries. If they did +they'd go. Who ever saw a public-house empty, or Peter Robinson's? And you +have to pay there! Silly, I call it! Why couldn't he have left his money to +you, or at any rate to the hospitals or something of that? No, it isn't +silly. It's scandalous! It ought to be stopped!"</p> + +<p>Now Priam had resolved that evening to make a serious, gallant attempt +to convince his wife of his own identity. He was approaching the critical +point. This speech of hers intimidated him, rather complicated his +difficulties, but he determined to proceed bravely.</p> + +<p>"Have you put sugar in this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "But you've forgotten to stir it. I'll stir it for +you."</p> + +<p>A charming wifely attention! It enheartened him.</p> + +<p>"I say, Alice," he said, as she stirred, "you remember when first I told +you I could paint?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, at first you thought I was daft. You thought my mind was +wandering, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "I only thought you'd got a bee in your bonnet." She +smiled demurely.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hadn't, had I?"</p> + +<p>"Seeing the money you've made, I should just say you hadn't," she +handsomely admitted. "Where we should be without it I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You were wrong, weren't you? And I was right?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," she beamed.</p> + +<p>"And do you remember that time I told you I was really Priam Farll?"</p> + +<p>She nodded, reluctantly.</p> + +<p>"You thought I was absolutely mad. Oh, you needn't deny it! I could see +well enough what your thoughts were."</p> + +<p>"I thought you weren't quite well," she said frankly.</p> + +<p>"But I was, my child. Now I've got to tell you again that I am Priam +Farll. Honestly I wish I wasn't, but I am. The deuce of it is that that +fellow that came here this morning has found it out, and there's going to +be trouble. At least there has been trouble, and there may be more."</p> + +<p>She was impressed. She knew not what to say.</p> + +<p>"But, Priam----"</p> + +<p>"He's paid me five hundred to-day for that picture I've just +finished."</p> + +<p>"Five hund----"</p> + +<p>Priam snatched the notes from his pocket, and with a gesture pardonably +dramatic he bade her count them.</p> + +<p>"Count them," he repeated, when she hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Is it right?" he asked when she had finished.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's right enough," she agreed. "But, Priam, I don't like having +all this money in the house. You ought to have called and put it in the +bank."</p> + +<p>"Dash the bank!" he exclaimed. "Just keep on listening to me, and try to +persuade yourself I'm not mad. I admit I'm a bit shy, and it was all on +account of that that I let that d--d valet of mine be buried as me."</p> + +<p>"You needn't tell me you're shy," she smiled. "All Putney knows you're +shy."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure about that!" He tossed his head.</p> + +<p>Then he began at the beginning and recounted to her in detail the +historic night and morning at Selwood Terrace, with a psychological +description of his feelings. He convinced her, in less than ten minutes, +with the powerful aid of five hundred pounds in banknotes, that he in truth +was Priam Farll.</p> + +<p>And he waited for her to express an exceeding astonishment and +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Well, of course if you are, you are," she observed simply, regarding +him with benevolent, possessive glances across the table. The fact was that +she did not deal in names, she dealt in realities. He was her reality, and +so long as he did not change visibly or actually--so long as he remained +he--she did not much mind who he was. She added, "But I really don't know +what you were <i>dreaming</i> of, Henry, to do such a thing!"</p> + +<p>"Neither do I," he muttered.</p> + +<p>Then he disclosed to her the whole chicanery of Mr. Oxford.</p> + +<p>"It's a good thing you've ordered those new clothes," she said.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because of the trial."</p> + +<p>"The trial between Oxford and Witt. What's that got to do with me?"</p> + +<p>"They'll make you give evidence."</p> + +<p>"But I shan't give evidence. I've told Oxford I'll have nothing to do +with it at all."</p> + +<p>"Suppose they make you? They can, you know, with a sub--sub something, I +forget its name. Then you'll <i>have</i> to go in the witness-box."</p> + +<p>"Me in the witness-box!" he murmured, undone.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "I expect it'll be very provoking indeed. But you'd +want a new suit for it. So I'm glad you ordered one. When are you going to +try on?"</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>An Escape</i></h2> + + +<p>One night, in the following June, Priam and Alice refrained from going +to bed. Alice dozed for an hour or so on the sofa, and Priam read by her +side in an easy-chair, and about two o'clock, just before the first +beginnings of dawn, they stimulated themselves into a feverish activity +beneath the parlour gas. Alice prepared tea, bread-and-butter, and eggs, +passing briskly from room to room. Alice also ran upstairs, cast a few more +things into a valise and a bag already partially packed, and, locking both +receptacles, carried them downstairs. Meantime the whole of Priam's energy +was employed in having a bath and in shaving. Blood was shed, as was but +natural at that ineffable hour. While Priam consumed the food she had +prepared, Alice was continually darting to and fro in the house. At one +moment, after an absence, she would come into the parlour with a mouthful +of hatpins; at another she would rush out to assure herself that the +indispensable keys of the valise and bag with her purse were on the +umbrella-stand, where they could not be forgotten. Between her excursions +she would drink thirty drops of tea.</p> + +<p>"Now, Priam," she said at length, "the water's hot. Haven't you +finished? It'll be getting light soon."</p> + +<p>"Water hot?" he queried, at a loss.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "To wash up these things, of course. You don't suppose +I'm going to leave a lot of dirty things in the house, do you? While I'm +doing that you might stick labels on the luggage."</p> + +<p>"They won't need to be labelled," he argued. "We shall take them with us +in the carriage."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Priam," she protested, "how tiresome you are!"</p> + +<p>"I've travelled more than you have." He tried to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and fine travelling it must have been, too! However, if you don't +mind the luggage being lost, I don't."</p> + +<p>During this she was collecting the crockery on a tray, with which tray +she whizzed out of the room.</p> + +<p>In ten minutes, hatted, heavily veiled, and gloved, she cautiously +opened the front door and peeped forth into the lamplit street She peered +to right and to left. Then she went as far as the gate and peered +again.</p> + +<p>"Is it all right?" whispered Priam, who was behind her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Priam came out of the house with the bag in one hand and the valise in +the other, a pipe in his mouth, a stick under his arm, and an overcoat on +his shoulder. Alice ran up the steps, gazed within the house, pulled the +door to silently, and locked it. Then beneath the summer stars she and +Priam hastened furtively, as though the luggage had contained swag, up +Werter Road towards Oxford Road. When they had turned the corner they felt +very much relieved.</p> + +<p>They had escaped.</p> + +<p>It was their second attempt. The first, made in daylight, had completely +failed. Their cab had been followed to Paddington Station by three other +cabs containing the representatives and the cameras of three Sunday +newspapers. A journalist had deliberately accompanied Priam to the booking +office, had heard him ask for two seconds to Weymouth, and had bought a +second to Weymouth himself. They had gone to Weymouth, but as within two +hours of their arrival Weymouth had become even more impossible than Werter +Road, they had ignominiously but wisely come back.</p> + +<p>Werter Road had developed into the most celebrated thoroughfare in +London. Its photograph had appeared in scores of newspapers, with a cross +marking the abode of Priam and Alice. It was beset and infested by +journalists of several nationalities from morn till night. Cameras were as +common in it as lamp-posts. And a famous descriptive reporter of the +<i>Sunday News</i> had got lodgings, at a high figure, exactly opposite No. +29. Priam and Alice could do nothing without publicity. And if it would be +an exaggeration to assert, that evening papers appeared with Stop-press +News: "5.40. Mrs. Leek went out shopping," the exaggeration would not be +very extravagant. For a fortnight Priam had not been beyond the door during +daylight. It was Alice who, alarmed by Priam's pallid cheeks and tightened +nerves, had devised the plan of flight before the early summer dawn.</p> + +<p>They reached East Putney Station, of which the gates were closed, the +first workman's train being not yet due. And there they stood. Not another +human being was abroad. Only the clock of St. Bude's was faithfully +awakening every soul within a radius of two hundred yards each quarter of +an hour. Then a porter came and opened the gate--it was still exceedingly +early--and Priam booked for Waterloo in triumph.</p> + +<p>"Oh," cried Alice, as they mounted the stairs, "I quite forgot to draw +up the blinds at the front of the house." And she stopped on the +stairs.</p> + +<p>"What did you want to draw up the blinds for?"</p> + +<p>"If they're down everybody will know instantly that we've gone. Whereas +if I--"</p> + +<p>She began to descend the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Alice!" he said sharply, in a strange voice. The muscles of his white +face were drawn.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"D--n the blinds. Come along, or upon my soul I'll kill you."</p> + +<p>She realized that his nerves were in active insurrection, and that a +mere nothing might bring about the fall of the government.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well!" She soothed him by her amiable obedience.</p> + +<p>In a quarter of an hour they were safely lost in the wilderness of +Waterloo, and the newspaper train bore them off to Bournemouth for a few +days' respite.</p> + + +<h2><i>The Nation's Curiosity</i></h2> + + +<p>The interest of the United Kingdom in the unique case of Witt <i>v</i>. +Parfitts had already reached apparently the highest possible degree of +intensity. And there was reason for the kingdom's passionate curiosity. +Whitney Witt, the plaintiff, had come over to England, with his +eccentricities, his retinue, his extreme wealth and his failing eyesight, +specially to fight Parfitts. A half-pathetic figure, this white-haired man, +once a connoisseur, who, from mere habit, continued to buy expensive +pictures when he could no longer see them! Whitney Witt was implacably set +against Parfitts, because he was convinced that Mr. Oxford had sought to +take advantage of his blindness. There he was, conducting his action +regardless of his blindness. There he was, conducting his action regardless +of expense. His apartments and his regal daily existence at the Grand +Babylon alone cost a fabulous sum which may be precisely ascertained by +reference to illustrated articles in the papers. Then Mr. Oxford, the +youngish Jew who had acquired Parfitts, who was Parfitts, also cut a +picturesque figure on the face of London. He, too, was spending money with +both hands; for Parfitts itself was at stake. Last and most disturbing, was +the individual looming mysteriously in the background, the inexplicable man +who lived in Werter Road, and whose identity would be decided by the +judgment in the case of Witt <i>v</i>. Parfitts. If Witt won his action, +then Parfitts might retire from business. Mr. Oxford would probably go to +prison for having sold goods on false pretences, and the name of Henry +Leek, valet, would be added to the list of adventurous scoundrels who have +pretended to be their masters. But if Witt should lose--then what a +complication, and what further enigmas to be solved! If Witt should lose, +the national funeral of Priam Farll had been a fraudulent farce. A common +valet lay under the hallowed stones of the Abbey, and Europe had mourned in +vain! If Witt should lose, a gigantic and unprecedented swindle had been +practised upon the nation. Then the question would arise, Why?</p> + +<p>Hence it was not surprising that popular interest, nourished by an +indefatigable and excessively enterprising press, should have mounted till +no one would have believed that it could mount any more. But the evasion +from Werter Road on that June morning intensified the interest enormously. +Of course, owing to the drawn blinds, it soon became known, and the +bloodhounds of the Sunday papers were sniffing along the platforms of all +the termini in London. Priam's departure greatly prejudiced the cause of +Mr. Oxford, especially when the bloodhounds failed and Priam persisted in +his invisibility. If a man was an honest man, why should he flee the public +gaze, and in the night? There was but a step from the posing of this +question to the inevitable inference that Mr. Oxford's line of defence was +really too fantastic for credence. Certainly organs of vast circulation, +while repeating that, as the action was <i>sub judice</i>, they could say +nothing about it, had already tried the action several times in their +impartial columns, and they now tried it again, with the entire public as +jury. And in three days Priam had definitely become a criminal in the +public eye, a criminal flying from justice. Useless to assert that he was +simply a witness subpoenaed to give evidence at the trial! He had +transgressed the unwritten law of the English constitution that a person +prominent in a <i>cause célèbre</i> belongs for the time +being, not to himself, but to the nation at large. He had no claim to +privacy. In surreptitiously obtaining seclusion he was merely robbing the +public and the public's press of their inalienable right.</p> + +<p>Who could deny now the reiterated statement that <i>he</i> was a +bigamist?</p> + +<p>It came to be said that he must be on his way to South America. Then the +public read avidly articles by specially retained barristers on the +extradition treaties with Brazil, Argentina, Ecuador, Chili, Paraguay and +Uruguay.</p> + +<p>The curates Matthew and Henry preached to crowded congregations at +Putney and Bermondsey, and were reported verbatim in the <i>Christian Voice +Sermon Supplement</i>, and other messengers of light.</p> + +<p>And gradually the nose of England bent closer and closer to its +newspaper of a morning. And coffee went cold, and bacon fat congealed, from +the Isle of Wight to Hexham, while the latest rumours were being swallowed. +It promised to be stupendous, did the case of Witt <i>v</i>. Parfitts. It +promised to be one of those cases that alone make life worth living, that +alone compensate for the horrors of climate, in England. And then the day +of hearing arrived, and the afternoon papers which appear at nine o'clock +in the morning announced that Henry Leek (or Priam Farll, according to your +wish) and his wife (or his female companion and willing victim) had +returned to Werter Road. And England held its breath; and even Scotland +paused, expectant; and Ireland stirred in its Celtic dream.</p> + + +<h2><i>Mention of Two Moles</i></h2> + + +<p>The theatre in which the emotional drama of Witt Parfitts was to be +played, lacked the usual characteristics of a modern place of +entertainment. It was far too high for its width and breadth; it was badly +illuminated; it was draughty in winter and stuffy in summer, being +completely deprived of ventilation. Had it been under the control of the +County Council it would have been instantly condemned as dangerous in case +of fire, for its gangways were always encumbered and its exits of a +mediaeval complexity. It had no stage, no footlights, and all its seats +were of naked wood except one.</p> + +<p>This unique seat was occupied by the principal player, who wore a +humorous wig and a brilliant and expensive scarlet costume. He was a fairly +able judge, but he had mistaken his vocation; his rare talent for making +third-rate jokes would have brought him a fortune in the world of musical +comedy. His salary was a hundred a week; better comedians have earned less. +On the present occasion he was in the midst of a double row of fashionable +hats, and beneath the hats were the faces of fourteen feminine relatives +and acquaintances. These hats performed the function of 'dressing' the +house. The principal player endeavoured to behave as though under the +illusion that he was alone in his glory, but he failed.</p> + +<p>There were four other leading actors: Mr. Pennington, K.C., and Mr. +Vodrey, K.C., engaged by the plaintiff, and Mr. Cass, K.C., and Mr. +Crepitude, K.C., engaged by the defendant. These artistes were the stars of +their profession, nominally less glittering, but really far more glittering +than the player in scarlet. Their wigs were of inferior quality to his, and +their costumes shabby, but they did not mind, for whereas he got a hundred +a week, they each got a hundred a day. Three junior performers received ten +guineas a day apiece: one of them held a watching brief for the Dean and +Chapter of the Abbey, who, being members of a Christian fraternity, were +pained and horrified by the defendants' implication that they had given +interment to a valet, and who were determined to resist exhumation at all +hazards. The supers in the drama, whose business it was to whisper to each +other and to the players, consisted of solicitors, solicitors' clerks, and +experts; their combined emoluments worked out at the rate of a hundred and +fifty pounds a day. Twelve excellent men in the jury-box received between +them about as much as would have kept a K.C. alive for five minutes. The +total expenses of production thus amounted to something like six or seven +hundred pounds a day. The preliminary expenses had run into several +thousands. The enterprise could have been made remunerative by hiring for +it Convent Garden Theatre and selling stalls as for Tettrazzini and Caruso, +but in the absurd auditorium chosen, crammed though it was to the perilous +doors, the loss was necessarily terrific. Fortunately the affair was +subsidized; not merely by the State, but also by those two wealthy +capitalists, Whitney C. Witt and Mr. Oxford; and therefore the management +were in a position to ignore paltry financial considerations and to +practise art for art's sake.</p> + +<p>In opening the case Mr. Pennington, K.C., gave instant proof of his +astounding histrionic powers. He began calmly, colloquially, treating the +jury as friends of his boyhood, and the judge as a gifted uncle, and stated +in simple language that Whitney C. Witt was claiming seventy-two thousand +pounds from the defendants, money paid for worthless pictures palmed off +upon the myopic and venerable plaintiff as masterpieces. He recounted the +life and death of the great painter Priam Farll, and his solemn burial and +the tears of the whole world. He dwelt upon the genius of Priam Farll, and +then upon the confiding nature of the plaintiff. Then he inquired who could +blame the plaintiff for his confidence in the uprightness of a firm with +such a name as Parfitts. And then he explained by what accident of a +dating-stamp on a canvas it had been discovered that the pictures +guaranteed to be by Priam Farll were painted after Priam Farll's death.</p> + +<p>He proceeded with no variation of tone: "The explanation is simplicity +itself. Priam Farll was not really dead. It was his valet who died. Quite +naturally, quite comprehensibly, the great genius Priam Farll wished to +pass the remainder of his career as a humble valet. He deceived everybody; +the doctor, his cousin, Mr. Duncan Farll, the public authorities, the Dean +and Chapter of the Abbey, the nation--in fact, the entire world! As Henry +Leek he married, and as Henry Leek he recommenced the art of painting--in +Putney; he carried on the vocation several years without arousing the +suspicions of a single person; and then--by a curious coincidence +immediately after my client threatened an action against the defendant--he +displayed himself in his true identity as Priam Farll. Such is the simple +explanation," said Pennington, K.C., and added, "which you will hear +presently from the defendant. Doubtless it will commend itself to you as +experienced men of the world. You cannot but have perceived that such +things are constantly happening in real life, that they are of daily +occurrence. I am almost ashamed to stand up before you and endeavour to +rebut a story so plausible and so essentially convincing. I feel that my +task is well-nigh hopeless. Nevertheless, I must do my best."</p> + +<p>And so on.</p> + +<p>It was one of his greatest feats in the kind of irony that appeals to a +jury. And the audience deemed that the case was already virtually +decided.</p> + +<p>After Whitney C. Witt and his secretary had been called and had filled +the court with the echoing twang of New York (the controlled fury of the +aged Witt was highly effective), Mrs. Henry Leek was invited to the +witness-box. She was supported thither by her two curates, who, however, +could not prevent her from weeping at the stern voice of the usher. She +related her marriage.</p> + +<p>"Is that your husband?" demanded Vodrey, K.C. (who had now assumed the +principal <i>rôle</i>, Pennington, K.C., being engaged in another +play in another theatre), pointing with one of his well-conceived dramatic +gestures to Priam Farll.</p> + +<p>"It is," sobbed Mrs. Henry Leek.</p> + +<p>The unhappy creature believed what she said, and the curates, though +silent, made a deep impression on the jury. In cross-examination, when +Crepitude, K.C., forced her to admit that on first meeting Priam in his +house in Werter Road she had not been quite sure of his identity, she +replied--</p> + +<p>"It's all come over me since. Shouldn't a woman recognize the father of +her own children?"</p> + +<p>"She should," interpolated the judge. There was a difference of opinion +as to whether his word was jocular or not.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Henry Leek was a touching figure, but not amusing. It was Mr. +Duncan Farll who, quite unintentionally, supplied the first relief.</p> + +<p>Duncan pooh-poohed the possibility of Priam being Priam. He detailed all +the circumstances that followed the death in Selwood Terrace, and showed in +fifty ways that Priam could not have been Priam. The man now masquerading +as Priam was not even a gentleman, whereas Priam was Duncan's cousin! +Duncan was an excellent witness, dry, precise, imperturbable. Under +cross-examination by Crepitude he had to describe particularly his boyish +meeting with Priam. Mr. Crepitude was not inquisitive.</p> + +<p>"Tell us what occurred," said Crepitude.</p> + +<p>"Well, we fought."</p> + +<p>"Oh! You fought! What did you two naughty boys fight about?" (Great +laughter.)</p> + +<p>"About a plum-cake, I think."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Not a seed-cake, a plum-cake?" (Great laughter.)</p> + +<p>"I think a plum-cake."</p> + +<p>"And what was the result of this sanguinary encounter?" (Great +laughter.)</p> + +<p>"My cousin loosened one of my teeth." (Great laughter, in which the +court joined.)</p> + +<p>"And what did you do to him?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I didn't do much. I remember tearing half his clothes off." +(Roars of laughter, in which every one joined except Priam and Duncan +Farll.)</p> + +<p>"Oh! You are sure you remember that? You are sure that it wasn't he who +tore <i>your</i> clothes off?" (Lots of hysteric laughter.)</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Duncan, coldly dreaming in the past. His eyes had the 'far +away' look, as he added, "I remember now that my cousin had two little +moles on his neck below the collar. I seem to remember seeing them. I've +just thought of it."</p> + +<p>There is, of course, when it is mentioned in a theatre, something +exorbitantly funny about even one mole. Two moles together brought the +house down.</p> + +<p>Mr. Crepitude leaned over to a solicitor in front of him; the solicitor +leaned aside to a solicitor's clerk, and the solicitor's clerk whispered to +Priam Farll, who nodded.</p> + +<p>"Er----" Mr. Crepitude was beginning again, but he stopped and said to +Duncan Farll, "Thank you. You can step down."</p> + +<p>Then a witness named Justini, a cashier at the Hôtel de Paris, +Monte Carlo, swore that Priam Farll, the renowned painter, had spent four +days in the Hôtel de Paris one hot May, seven years ago, and that the +person in the court whom the defendant stated to be Priam Farll was not +that man. No cross-examination could shake Mr. Justini. Following him came +the manager of the Hôtel Belvedere at Mont Pélerin, near +Vevey, Switzerland, who related a similar tale and was equally +unshaken.</p> + +<p>And after that the pictures themselves were brought in, and the experts +came after them and technical evidence was begun. Scarcely had it begun +when a clock struck and the performance ended for the day. The principal +actors doffed their costumes, and snatched up the evening papers to make +sure that the descriptive reporters had been as eulogistic of them as +usual. The judge, who subscribed to a press-cutting agency, was glad to +find, the next morning, that none of his jokes had been omitted by any of +the nineteen chief London dailies. And the Strand and Piccadilly were quick +with Witt <i>v</i>. Parfitts--on evening posters and in the strident mouths +of newsboys. The telegraph wires vibrated to Witt <i>v</i>. Parfitts. In +the great betting industrial towns of the provinces wagers were laid at +scientific prices. England, in a word, was content, and the principal +actors had the right to be content also. Very astute people in clubs and +saloon bars talked darkly about those two moles, and Priam's nod in +response to the whispers of the solicitor's clerk: such details do not +escape the modern sketch writer at a thousand a year. To very astute people +the two moles appeared to promise pretty things.</p> + + +<h2><i>Priam's Refusal</i></h2> + + +<p>"Leek in the box."</p> + +<p>This legend got itself on to the telegraph wires and the placards within +a few minutes of Priam's taking the oath. It sent a shiver of anticipation +throughout the country. Three days had passed since the opening of the case +(for actors engaged at a hundred a day for the run of the piece do not +crack whips behind experts engaged at ten or twenty a day; the pace had +therefore been dignified), and England wanted a fillip.</p> + +<p>Nobody except Alice knew what to expect from Priam. Alice knew. She knew +that Priam was in an extremely peculiar state which might lead to extremely +peculiar results; and she knew also that there was nothing to be done with +him! She herself had made one little effort to bathe him in the light of +reason; the effort had not succeeded. She saw the danger of renewing it. +Pennington, K.C., by the way, insisted that she should leave the court +during Priam's evidence.</p> + +<p>Priam's attitude towards the whole case was one of bitter resentment, a +resentment now hot, now cold. He had the strongest possible objection to +the entire affair. He hated Witt as keenly as he hated Oxford. All that he +demanded from the world was peace and quietness, and the world would not +grant him these inexpensive commodities. He had not asked to be buried in +Westminster Abbey; his interment had been forced upon him. And if he chose +to call himself by another name, why should he not do so? If he chose to +marry a simple woman, and live in a suburb and paint pictures at ten pounds +each, why should he not do so? Why should he be dragged out of his +tranquillity because two persons in whom he felt no interest whatever, had +quarrelled over his pictures? Why should his life have been made unbearable +in Putney by the extravagant curiosity of a mob of journalists? And then, +why should he be compelled, by means of a piece of blue paper, to go +through the frightful ordeal and flame of publicity in a witness-box? That +was the crowning unmerited torture, the unthinkable horror which had broken +his sleep for many nights.</p> + +<p>In the box he certainly had all the appearance of a trapped criminal, +with his nervous movements, his restless lowered eyes, and his faint, hard +voice that he could scarcely fetch up from his throat. Nervousness lined +with resentment forms excellent material for the plastic art of a +cross-examining counsel, and Pennington, K.C., itched to be at work. +Crepitude, K.C., Oxford's counsel, was in less joyous mood. Priam was +Crepitude's own witness, and yet a horrible witness, a witness who had +consistently and ferociously declined to open his mouth until he was in the +box. Assuredly he had nodded, in response to the whispered question of the +solicitor's clerk, but he had not confirmed the nod, nor breathed a word of +assistance during the three days of the trial. He had merely sat there, +blazing in silence.</p> + +<p>"Your name is Priam Farll?" began Crepitude.</p> + +<p>"It is," said Priam sullenly, and with all the external characteristics +of a liar. At intervals he glanced surreptitiously at the judge, as though +the judge had been a bomb with a lighted fuse.</p> + +<p>The examination started badly, and it went from worse to worse. The idea +that this craven, prevaricating figure in the box could be the illustrious, +the world-renowned Priam Farll, seemed absurd. Crepitude had to exercise +all his self-control in order not to bully Priam.</p> + +<p>"That is all," said Crepitude, after Priam had given his preposterous +and halting explanations of the strange phenomena of his life after the +death of Leek. None of these carried conviction. He merely said that the +woman Leek was mistaken in identifying him as her husband; he inferred that +she was hysterical; this inference alienated him from the audience +completely. His statement that he had no definite reason for pretending to +be Leek--that it was an impulse of the moment--was received with mute +derision. His explanation, when questioned as to the evidence of the hotel +officials, that more than once his valet Leek had gone about impersonating +his master, seemed grotesquely inadequate.</p> + +<p>People wondered why Crepitude had made no reference to the moles. The +fact was, Crepitude was afraid to refer to the moles. In mentioning the +moles to Priam he might be staking all to lose all.</p> + +<p>However, Pennington, K.C., alluded to the moles. But not until he had +conclusively proved to the judge, in a cross-questioning of two hours' +duration, that Priam knew nothing of Priam's own youth, nor of painting, +nor of the world of painters. He made a sad mess of Priam. And Priam's +voice grew fainter and fainter, and his gestures more and more +self-incriminating.</p> + +<p>Pennington, K.C., achieved one or two brilliant little effects.</p> + +<p>"Now you say you went with the defendant to his club, and that he told +you of the difficulty he was in!"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Did he make you any offer of money?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Ah! What did he offer you?"</p> + +<p>"Thirty-six thousand pounds." (Sensation in court.)</p> + +<p>"So! And what was this thirty-six thousand pounds to be for?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You don't know? Come now."</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You accepted the offer?"</p> + +<p>"No, I refused it." (Sensation in court.)</p> + +<p>"Why did you refuse it?"</p> + +<p>"Because I didn't care to accept it."</p> + +<p>"Then no money passed between you that day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Five hundred pounds."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"A picture."</p> + +<p>"The same kind of picture that you had been selling at ten pounds?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"So that on the very day that the defendant wanted you to swear that you +were Priam Farll, the price of your pictures rose from ten pounds to five +hundred?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't that strike you as odd?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You still say--mind, Leek, you are on your oath!--you still say that +you refused thirty-six thousand pounds in order to accept five +hundred."</p> + +<p>"I sold a picture for five hundred."</p> + +<p>(On the placards in the Strand: "Severe cross-examination of Leek.")</p> + +<p>"Now about the encounter with Mr. Duncan Farll. Of course, if you are +really Priam Farll, you remember all about that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What age were you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. About nine."</p> + +<p>"Oh! You were about nine. A suitable age for cake." (Great laughter.) +"Now, Mr. Duncan Farll says you loosened one of his teeth."</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"And that he tore your clothes."</p> + +<p>"I dare say."</p> + +<p>"He says he remembers the fact because you had two moles."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Have you two moles?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." (Immense sensation.)</p> + +<p>Pennington paused.</p> + +<p>"Where are they?"</p> + +<p>"On my neck just below my collar."</p> + +<p>"Kindly place your hand at the spot."</p> + +<p>Priam did so. The excitement was terrific.</p> + +<p>Pennington again paused. But, convinced that Priam was an impostor, he +sarcastically proceeded--</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, if I am not asking too much, you will take your collar off and +show the two moles to the court?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Priam stoutly. And for the first time he looked Pennington in +the face.</p> + +<p>"You would prefer to do it, perhaps, in his lordship's room, if his +lordship consents."</p> + +<p>"I won't do it anywhere," said Priam.</p> + +<p>"But surely--" the judge began.</p> + +<p>"I won't do it anywhere, my lord," Priam repeated loudly. All his +resentment surged up once more; and particularly his resentment against the +little army of experts who had pronounced his pictures to be clever but +worthless imitations of himself. If his pictures, admittedly painted after +his supposed death, could not prove his identity; if his word was to be +flouted by insulting and bewigged beasts of prey; then his moles should not +prove his identity. He resolved upon obstinacy.</p> + +<p>"The witness, gentlemen," said Pennington, K.C., in triumph to the jury, +"has two moles on his neck, exactly as described by Mr. Duncan Farll, but +he will not display them!"</p> + +<p>Eleven legal minds bent nobly to the problem whether the law and justice +of England could compel a free man to take his collar off if he refused to +take his collar off. In the meantime, of course, the case had to proceed. +The six or seven hundred pounds a day must be earned, and there were +various other witnesses. The next witness was Alice.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></h1> + + +<h2><i>Alice's Performances</i></h2> + + +<p>When Alice was called, and when she stood up in the box, and, smiling +indulgently at the doddering usher, kissed the book as if it had been a +chubby nephew, a change came over the emotional atmosphere of the court, +which felt a natural need to smile. Alice was in all her best clothes, but +it cannot be said that she looked the wife of a super-eminent painter. In +answer to a question she stated that before marrying Priam she was the +widow of a builder in a small way of business, well known in Putney and +also in Wandsworth. This was obviously true. She could have been nothing +but the widow of a builder in a small way of business well known in Putney +and also in Wandsworth. She was every inch that.</p> + +<p>"How did you first meet your present husband, Mrs. Leek?" asked Mr. +Crepitude.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Farll, if you please," she cheerfully corrected him.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Farll, then."</p> + +<p>"I must say," she remarked conversationally, "it seems queer you should +be calling me Mrs. Leek, when they're paying you to prove that I'm Mrs. +Farll, Mr.----, excuse me, I forget your name."</p> + +<p>This nettled Crepitude, K.C. It nettled him, too, merely to see a +witness standing in the box just as if she were standing in her kitchen +talking to a tradesman at the door. He was not accustomed to such a +spectacle. And though Alice was his own witness he was angry with her +because he was angry with her husband. He blushed. Juniors behind him could +watch the blush creeping like a tide round the back of his neck over his +exceedingly white collar.</p> + +<p>"If you'll be good enough to reply----" said he.</p> + +<p>"I met my husband outside St. George's Hall, by appointment," said +she.</p> + +<p>"But before that. How did you make his acquaintance?"</p> + +<p>"Through a matrimonial agency," said she.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" observed Crepitude, and decided that he would not pursue that +avenue. The fact was Alice had put him into the wrong humour for making the +best of her. She was, moreover, in a very difficult position, for Priam had +positively forbidden her to have any speech with solicitors' clerks or with +solicitors, and thus Crepitude knew not what pitfalls for him her evidence +might contain. He drew from her an expression of opinion that her husband +was the real Priam Farll, but she could give no reasons in support--did not +seem to conceive that reasons in support were necessary.</p> + +<p>"Has your husband any moles?" asked Crepitude suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Any what?" demanded Alice, leaning forward.</p> + +<p>Vodrey, K.C., sprang up.</p> + +<p>"I submit to your lordship that my learned friend is putting a leading +question," said Vodrey, K.C.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Crepitude," said the judge, "can you not phrase your questions +differently?"</p> + +<p>"Has your husband any birthmarks--er--on his body?" Crepitude tried +again.</p> + +<p>"Oh! <i>Moles</i>, you said? You needn't be afraid. Yes, he's got two +moles, close together on his neck, here." And she pointed amid silence to +the exact spot. Then, noticing the silence, she added, "That's all that I +<i>know</i> of."</p> + +<p>Crepitude resolved to end his examination upon this impressive note, and +he sat down. And Alice had Vodrey, K.C., to face.</p> + +<p>"You met your husband through a matrimonial agency?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Who first had recourse to the agency?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"And what was your object?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to find a husband, of course," she smiled. "What <i>do</i> +people go to matrimonial agencies for?"</p> + +<p>"You aren't here to put questions to me," said Vodrey severely.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I should have thought you would have known what +people went to matrimonial agencies for. Still, you live and learn." She +sighed cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Do you think a matrimonial agency is quite the nicest way of----"</p> + +<p>"It depends what you mean by 'nice,'" said Alice.</p> + +<p>"Womanly."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Alice shortly, "I do. If you're going to stand there and +tell me I'm unwomanly, all I have to say is that you're unmanly."</p> + +<p>"You say you first met your husband outside St George's Hall?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Never seen him before?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"How did you recognize him?"</p> + +<p>"By his photograph."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he'd sent you his photograph?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"With a letter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"In what name was the letter signed?"</p> + +<p>"Henry Leek."</p> + +<p>"Was that before or after the death of the man who was buried in +Westminster Abbey?"</p> + +<p>"A day or two before." (Sensation in court.)</p> + +<p>"So that your present husband was calling himself Henry Leek before the +death?"</p> + +<p>"No, he wasn't. That letter was written by the man that died. My husband +found my reply to it, and my photograph, in the man's bag afterwards; and +happening to be strolling past St. George's Hall just at the moment +like--"</p> + +<p>"Well, happening to be strolling past St. George's Hall just at the +moment like--" (Titters.)</p> + +<p>"I caught sight of him and spoke to him. You see, I thought then that he +was the man who wrote the letter."</p> + +<p>"What made you think so?"</p> + +<p>"I had the photograph."</p> + +<p>"So that the man who wrote the letter and died didn't send his own +photograph. He sent another photograph--the photograph of your +husband?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, didn't you know that? I should have thought you'd have known +that."</p> + +<p>"Do you really expect the jury to believe that tale?"</p> + +<p>Alice turned smiling to the jury. "No," she said, "I'm not sure as I do. +I didn't believe it myself for a long time. But it's true."</p> + +<p>"Then at first you didn't believe your husband was the real Priam +Farll?"</p> + +<p>"No. You see, he didn't exactly tell me like. He only sort of +hinted."</p> + +<p>"But you didn't believe?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You thought he was lying?"</p> + +<p>"No, I thought it was just a kind of an idea he had. You know my husband +isn't like other gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"I imagine not," said Vodrey. "Now, when did you come to be perfectly +sure that, your husband was the real Priam Farll?"</p> + +<p>"It was the night of that day when Mr. Oxford came down to see him. He +told me all about it then."</p> + +<p>"Oh! That day when Mr. Oxford paid him five hundred pounds?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Immediately Mr. Oxford paid him five hundred pounds you were ready to +believe that your husband was the real Priam Farll. Doesn't that strike you +as excessively curious?"</p> + +<p>"It's just how it happened," said Alice blandly.</p> + +<p>"Now about these moles. You pointed to the right side of your neck. Are +you sure they aren't on the left side?"</p> + +<p>"Let me think now," said Alice, frowning. "When he's shaving in a +morning--he get up earlier now than he used to--I can see his face in the +looking-glass, and in the looking-glass the moles are on the left side. So +on <i>him</i> they must be on the right side. Yes, the right side. That's +it."</p> + +<p>"Have you never seen them except in a mirror, my good woman?" +interpolated the judge.</p> + +<p>For some reason Alice flushed. "I suppose you think that's funny," she +snapped, slightly tossing her head.</p> + +<p>The audience expected the roof to fall. But the roof withstood the +strain, thanks to a sagacious deafness on the part of the judge. If, +indeed, he had not been visited by a sudden deafness, it is difficult to +see how he would have handled the situation.</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea," Vodrey inquired, "why your husband refuses to +submit his neck to the inspection of the court?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know he had refused."</p> + +<p>"But he has."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Alice, "if you hadn't turned me out of the court while he +was being examined, perhaps I could have told you. But I can't as it is. So +it serves you right."</p> + +<p>Thus ended Alice's performances.</p> + + +<h2><i>The Public Captious</i></h2> + + +<p>The court rose, and another six or seven hundred pounds was gone into +the pockets of the celebrated artistes engaged. It became at once obvious, +from the tone of the evening placards and the contents of evening papers, +and the remarks in crowded suburban trains, that for the public the trial +had resolved itself into an affair of moles. Nothing else now interested +the great and intelligent public. If Priam had those moles on his neck, +then he was the real Priam. If he had not, then he was a common cheat. The +public had taken the matter into its own hands. The sturdy common sense of +the public was being applied to the affair. On the whole it may be said +that the sturdy common sense of the public was against Priam. For the +majority, the entire story was fishily preposterous. It must surely be +clear to the feeblest brain that if Priam possessed moles he would expose +them. The minority, who talked of psychology and the artistic temperament, +were regarded as the cousins of Little Englanders and the direct +descendants of pro-Boers.</p> + +<p>Still, the thing ought to be proved or disproved.</p> + +<p>Why didn't the judge commit him for contempt of court? He would then be +sent to Holloway and be compelled to strip--and there you were!</p> + +<p>Or why didn't Oxford hire some one to pick a quarrel with him in the +street and carry the quarrel to blows, with a view to raiment-tearing?</p> + +<p>A nice thing, English justice--if it had no machinery to force a man to +show his neck to a jury! But then English justice <i>was</i> notoriously +comic.</p> + +<p>And whole trainfuls of people sneered at their country's institution in +a manner which, had it been adopted by a foreigner, would have plunged +Europe into war and finally tested the blue-water theory. Undoubtedly the +immemorial traditions of English justice came in for very severe handling, +simply because Priam would not take his collar off.</p> + +<p>And he would not.</p> + +<p>The next morning there were consultations in counsel's rooms, and the +common law of the realm was ransacked to find a legal method of inspecting +Priam's moles, without success. Priam arrived safely at the courts with his +usual high collar, and was photographed thirty times between the kerb and +the entrance hall.</p> + +<p>"He's slept in it!" cried wags.</p> + +<p>"Bet yer two ter one it's a clean 'un!" cried other wags. "His missus +gets his linen up."</p> + +<p>It was subject to such indignities that the man who had defied the +Supreme Court of Judicature reached his seat in the theatre. When +solicitors and counsel attempted to reason with him, he answered with +silence. The rumour ran that in his hip pocket he was carrying a revolver +wherewith to protect the modesty of his neck.</p> + +<p>The celebrated artistes, having perceived the folly of losing six or +seven hundred pounds a day because Priam happened to be an obstinate idiot, +continued with the case. For Mr. Oxford and another army of experts of +European reputation were waiting to prove that the pictures admittedly +painted after the burial in the National Valhalla, were painted by Priam +Farll, and could have been painted by no other. They demonstrated this by +internal evidence. In other words, they proved by deductions from squares +of canvas that Priam had moles on his neck. It was a phenomenon eminently +legal. And Priam, in his stiff collar, sat and listened. The experts, +however, achieved two feats, both unintentionally. They sent the judge +soundly to sleep, and they wearied the public, which considered that the +trial was falling short of its early promise. This <i>expertise</i> went on +to the extent of two whole days and appreciably more than another thousand +pounds. And on the third day Priam, somewhat hardened to renown, reappeared +with his mysterious neck, and more determined than ever. He had seen in a +paper, which was otherwise chiefly occupied with moles and experts, a +cautious statement that the police had collected the necessary +<i>primâ facie</i> evidence of bigamy, and that his arrest was +imminent. However, something stranger than arrest for bigamy happened to +him.</p> + + +<h2><i>New Evidence</i></h2> + + +<p>The principal King's Bench corridor in the Law Courts, like the other +main corridors, is a place of strange meetings and interviews. A man may +receive there a bit of news that will change the whole of the rest of his +life, or he may receive only an invitation to a mediocre lunch in the +restaurant underneath; he never knows beforehand. Priam assuredly did not +receive an invitation to lunch. He was traversing the crowded +thoroughfares--for with the exception of match and toothpick sellers the +corridor has the characteristics of a Strand pavement in the forenoon--when +he caught sight of Mr. Oxford talking to a woman. Now, he had exchanged no +word with Mr. Oxford since the historic scene in the club, and he was +determined to exchange no word; however, they had not gone through the +formality of an open breach. The most prudent thing to do, therefore, was +to turn and take another corridor. And Priam would have fled, being capable +of astonishing prudence when prudence meant the avoidance of unpleasant +encounters; but, just as he was turning, the woman in conversation with Mr. +Oxford saw him, and stepped towards him with the rapidity of thought, +holding forth her hand. She was tall, thin, and stiffly distinguished in +the brusque, Dutch-doll motions of her limbs. Her coat and skirt were quite +presentable; but her feet were large (not her fault, of course, though one +is apt to treat large feet as a crime), and her feathered hat was even +larger. She hid her age behind a veil.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Farll?" she addressed him firmly, in a voice which +nevertheless throbbed.</p> + +<p>It was Lady Sophia Entwistle.</p> + +<p>"How do you do?" he said, taking her offered hand.</p> + +<p>There was nothing else to do, and nothing else to say.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Oxford put out his hand.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Farll?"</p> + +<p>And, taking Mr. Oxford's hated hand, Priam said again, "How do you +do?"</p> + +<p>It was all just as if there had been no past; the past seemed to have +been swallowed up in the ordinariness of the crowded corridor. By all the +rules for the guidance of human conduct, Lady Sophia ought to have +denounced Priam with outstretched dramatic finger to the contempt of the +world as a philanderer with the hearts of trusting women; and he ought to +have kicked Mr. Oxford along the corridor for a scheming Hebrew. But they +merely shook hands and asked each other how they did, not even expecting an +answer. This shows to what extent the ancient qualities of the race have +deteriorated.</p> + +<p>Then a silence.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know, Mr. Farll," said Lady Sophia, rather suddenly, +"that I have got to give evidence in this case."</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "I didn't."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it seems they have scoured all over the Continent in vain to find +people who knew you under your proper name, and who could identify you with +certainty, and they couldn't find one--doubtless owing to your peculiar +habits of travel."</p> + +<p>"Really," said Priam.</p> + +<p>He had made love to this woman. He had kissed her. They had promised to +marry each other. It was a piece of wild folly on his part; but, in the +eyes of an impartial person, folly could not excuse his desertion of her, +his flight from her intellectual charms. His gaze pierced her veil. No, she +was not quite so old as Alice. She was not more plain than Alice. She +certainly knew more than Alice. She could talk about pictures without +sticking a knife into his soul and turning it in the wound. She was better +dressed than Alice. And her behaviour on the present occasion, candid, +kind, correct, could not have been surpassed by Alice. And yet... Her +demeanour was without question prodigiously splendid in its ignoring of all +that she had gone through. And yet... Even in that moment of complicated +misery he had enough strength to hate her because he had been fool enough +to make love to her. No excuse whatever for him, of course!</p> + +<p>"I was in India when I first heard of this case," Lady Sophia continued. +"At first I thought it must be a sort of Tichborne business over again. +Then, knowing you as I did, I thought perhaps it wasn't."</p> + +<p>"And as Lady Sophia happens to be in London now," put in Mr. Oxford, +"she is good enough to give her invaluable evidence on my behalf."</p> + +<p>"That is scarcely the way to describe it," said Lady Sophia coldly. "I +am only here because you compel me to be here by subpoena. It is all due to +your acquaintanceship with my aunt."</p> + +<p>"Quite so, quite so!" Mr. Oxford agreed. "It naturally can't be very +agreeable to you to have to go into the witness-box and submit to +cross-examination. Certainly not. And I am the more obliged to you for your +kindness, Lady Sophia."</p> + +<p>Priam comprehended the situation. Lady Sophia, after his supposed death, +had imparted to relatives the fact of his engagement, and the unscrupulous +scoundrel, Mr. Oxford, had got hold of her and was forcing her to give +evidence for him. And after the evidence, the joke of every man in the +street would be to the effect that Priam Farll, rather than marry the +skinny spinster, had pretended to be dead.</p> + +<p>"You see," Mr. Oxford added to him, "the important point about Lady +Sophia's evidence is that in Paris she saw both you and your valet--the +valet obviously a servant, and you obviously his master. There can, +therefore, be no question of her having been deceived by the valet posing +as the master. It is a most fortunate thing that by a mere accident I got +on the tracks of Lady Sophia in time. In the nick of time. Only yesterday +afternoon!"</p> + +<p>No reference by Mr. Oxford to Priam's obstinacy in the matter of +collars. He appeared to regard Priam's collar as a phenomenon of nature, +such as the weather, or a rock in the sea, as something to be accepted with +resignation! No sign of annoyance with Priam! He was the prince of +diplomatists, was Mr. Oxford.</p> + +<p>"Can I speak to you a minute?" said Lady Sophia to Priam.</p> + +<p>Mr. Oxford stepped away with a bow.</p> + +<p>And Lady Sophia looked steadily at Priam. He had to admit again that she +was stupendous. She was his capital mistake; but she was stupendous.</p> + +<p>At their last interview he had embraced her. She had attended his +funeral in Westminster Abbey. And she could suppress all that from her +eyes! She could stand there calm and urbane in her acceptance of the +terrific past. Apparently she forgave.</p> + +<p>Said Lady Sophia simply, "Now, Mr. Farll, shall I have to give evidence +or not? You know it depends on you?"</p> + +<p>The casualness of her tone was sublime; it was heroic; it made her feet +small.</p> + +<p>He had sworn to himself that he would be cut in pieces before he would +aid the unscrupulous Mr. Oxford by removing his collar in presence of those +dramatic artistes. He had been grossly insulted, disturbed, maltreated, and +exploited. The entire world had meddled with his private business, and he +would be cut in pieces before he would display those moles which would +decide the issue in an instant.</p> + +<p>Well, she had cut him in pieces.</p> + +<p>"Please don't worry," said he in reply. "I will attend to things."</p> + +<p>At that moment Alice, who had followed him by a later train, +appeared.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Lady Sophia," he said, raising his hat, and left her.</p> + + +<h2><i>Thoughts on Justice</i></h2> + + +<p>"Farll takes his collar off." "Witt <i>v</i>. Parfitts. Result." These +and similar placards flew in the Strand breezes. Never in the history of +empires had the removal of a starched linen collar (size 16-1/2) created +one-thousandth part of the sensation caused by the removal of this collar. +It was an epoch-making act. It finished the drama of Witt <i>v</i>. +Parfitts. The renowned artistes engaged did not, of course, permit the case +to collapse at once. No, it had to be concluded slowly and majestically, +with due forms and expenses. New witnesses (such as doctors) had to be +called, and old ones recalled. Duncan Farll, for instance, had to be +recalled, and if the situation was ignominious for Priam it was also +ignominious for Duncan. Duncan's sole advantage in his defeat was that the +judge did not skin him alive in the summing up, nor the jury in their +verdict. England breathed more freely when the affair was finally over and +the renowned artistes engaged had withdrawn enveloped in glory. The truth +was that England, so proud of her systems, had had a fright. Her judicial +methods had very nearly failed to make a man take his collar off in public. +They had really failed, but it had all come right in the end, and so +England pretended that they had only just missed failing. A grave injustice +would have been perpetrated had Priam chosen not to take off his collar. +People said, naturally, that imprisonment for bigamy would have included +the taking-off of collars; but then it was rumoured that prosecution for +bigamy had not by any means been a certainty, as since leaving the box Mrs. +Henry Leek had wavered in her identification. However, the justice of +England had emerged safely. And it was all very astounding and shocking and +improper. And everybody was exceedingly wise after the event. And with one +voice the press cried that something painful ought to occur at once to +Priam Farll, no matter how great an artist he was.</p> + +<p>The question was: How could Priam be trapped in the net of the law? He +had not committed bigamy. He had done nothing. He had only behaved in a +negative manner. He had not even given false information to the registrar. +And Dr. Cashmore could throw no light on the episode, for he was dead. His +wife and daughters had at last succeeded in killing him. The judge had +intimated that the ecclesiastical wrath of the Dean and Chapter might +speedily and terribly overtake Priam Farll; but that sounded vague and +unsatisfactory to the lay ear.</p> + +<p>In short, the matter was the most curious that ever was. And for the +sake of the national peace of mind, the national dignity, and the national +conceit, it was allowed to drop into forgetfulness after a few days. And +when the papers announced that, by Priam's wish, the Farll museum was to be +carried to completion and formally conveyed to the nation, despite all, the +nation decided to accept that honourable amend, and went off to the seaside +for its annual holiday.</p> + + +<h2><i>The Will to Live</i></h2> + + +<p>Alice insisted on it, and so, immediately before their final departure +from England, they went. Priam pretended that the visit was undertaken +solely to please her; but the fact is that his own morbid curiosity moved +in the same direction. They travelled by an omnibus past the Putney Empire +and the Walham Green Empire as far as Walham Green, and there changed into +another one which carried them past the Chelsea Empire, the Army and Navy +Stores, and the Hotel Windsor to the doors of Westminster Abbey. And they +vanished out of the October sunshine into the beam-shot gloom of Valhalla. +It was Alice's first view of Valhalla, though of course she had heard of +it. In old times she had visited Madame Tussaud's and the Tower, but she +had not had leisure to get round as far as Valhalla. It impressed her +deeply. A verger pointed them to the nave; but they dared not demand more +minute instructions. They had not the courage to ask for <i>It</i>. Priam +could not speak. There were moments with him when he could not speak lest +his soul should come out of his mouth and flit irrecoverably away. And he +could not find the tomb. Save for the outrageous tomb of mighty Newton, the +nave seemed to be as naked as when it came into the world. Yet he was sure +he was buried in the nave--and only three years ago, too! Astounding, was +it not, what could happen in three years? He knew that the tomb had not +been removed, for there had been an article in the <i>Daily Record</i> on +the previous day asking in the name of a scandalized public whether the +Dean and Chapter did not consider that three months was more than long +enough for the correction of a fundamental error in the burial department. +He was gloomy; he had in truth been somewhat gloomy ever since the trial. +Perhaps it was the shadow of the wrath of the Dean and Chapter on him. He +had ceased to procure joy in the daily manifestations of life in the +streets of the town. And this failure to discover the tomb intensified the +calm, amiable sadness which distinguished him.</p> + +<p>Alice, gazing around, chiefly with her mouth, inquired suddenly--</p> + +<p>"What's that printing there?"</p> + +<p>She had detected a legend incised on one of the small stone flags which +form the vast floor of the nave. They stooped over it. "PRIAM FARLL," it +said simply, in fine Roman letters and then his dates. That was all. Near +by, on other flags, they deciphered other names of honour. This austere +method of marking the repose of the dead commended itself to him, caused +him to feel proud of himself and of the ridiculous England that somehow +keeps our great love. His gloom faded. And do you know what idea rushed +from his heart to his brain? "By Jove! I will paint finer pictures than any +I've done yet!" And the impulse to recommence the work of creation surged +over him. The tears started to his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I like that!" murmured Alice, gazing at the stone. "I do think that's +nice."</p> + +<p>And <i>he</i> said, because he truly felt it, because the will to live +raged through him again, tingling and smarting:</p> + +<p>"I'm glad I'm not there."</p> + +<p>They smiled at each other, and their instinctive hands fumblingly +met.</p> + +<p>A few days later, the Dean and Chapter, stung into action by the +majestic rebuke of the <i>Daily Record</i>, amended the floor of Valhalla +and caused the mortal residuum of the immortal organism known as Henry Leek +to be nocturnally transported to a different bed.</p> + + +<h2><i>On Board</i></h2> + + +<p>A few days later, also, a North German Lloyd steamer quitted Southampton +for Algiers, bearing among its passengers Priam and Alice. It was a rough +starlit night, and from the stern of the vessel the tumbled white water +made a pathway straight to receding England. Priam had come to love the +slopes of Putney with the broad river at the foot; but he showed what I +think was a nice feeling in leaving England. His sojourn in our land had +not crowned him with brilliance. He was not a being created for society, +nor for cutting a figure, nor for exhibiting tact and prudence in the +crises of existence. He could neither talk well nor read well, nor express +himself in exactly suitable actions. He could only express himself at the +end of a brush. He could only paint extremely beautiful pictures. That was +the major part of his vitality. In minor ways he may have been, upon +occasions, a fool. But he was never a fool on canvas. He said everything +there, and said it to perfection, for those who could read, for those who +can read, and for those who will be able to read five hundred years hence. +Why expect more from him? Why be disappointed in him? One does not expect a +wire-walker to play fine billiards. You yourself, mirror of prudence that +you are, would have certainly avoided all Priam's manifold errors in the +conduct of his social career; but, you see, he was divine in another +way.</p> + +<p>As the steamer sped along the lengthening pathway from England, one +question kept hopping in and out of his mind:</p> + +<p>"<i>I wonder what they'll do with me next time</i>?"</p> + +<p>Do not imagine that he and Alice were staring over the stern at the +singular isle. No! There were imperative reasons, which affected both of +them, against that. It was only in the moments of the comparative calm +which always follows insurrections, that Priam had leisure to wonder, and +to see his own limitations, and joyfully to meditate upon the prospect of +age devoted to the sole doing of that which he could so supremely, in a +sweet exile with the enchantress, Alice.</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Buried Alive: A Tale of These Days +by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BURIED ALIVE: A TALE OF THESE DAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 10911-h.htm or 10911-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/9/1/10911/ + +Produced by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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